Life, or something like it

Saliva dripped from the alien's mouth. A gut-wrenching scream erupted from its many mouths. I jammed a canister in my C176I alien deterrent cannon and fired the weapon. The creature in front of my exploded in greens slime, covering me. Gross, I muttered to myself. I moved forward, up a hill and over a couple rocks. There didn't seem to be any more of them nearby, but you can never be too sure. Suddenly, I had a premonition. I looked behind me, where a shadow edged up the grassy meadow. I looked up, where the menacing prow of a C-6 destroyer ship moved in ominous silence. I uttered a curse word that can't be repeated, then took action. Removing my grappling from my gadget belt, I did a quick calculation and aimed it in the top quarter-region of the ship. I fired the gun and waited for the characteristic snag on the rope that meant I had struck gold. The rope snagged. A flick of a button and I was on my way up. I sailed through the air, the black shape above me growing bigger and bigger. As I neared the point where my elctro-magnetic grapple spike had sunk in I realized a flaw in my plan. There were no windows or entrances anywhere nearby. That's alright, I thought to myself, I'll just bust my way in. I bit down on my cigar stub and reached for the sticky C5B13 explosive putty and stuck a generous gob of it to the side immediately next to me. I pulled a small vial from a case on my utility belt and crushed the vial in the putty, then held the f**k on.

BOOOOOOOOOOM

My body was forcibly throw to the left as smoke, fire and shrapnel shot from the newly-created hole in the ship. Swinging back and crashing hard against the side of the ship hurt, but I was more gratified that I didn't a have a piece of alien steel stuck through my forehead. I crawled in through the hole and, immediately, got riddled with alien rifle rounds. Most were stopped by my armor, but a couple pierced through to my flesh. Good, I thought to myself, that only ignites my blood lust.

"YOU GODDAMN ALIEN BASTARDS! YOU'RE ABOUT TO GET SERVED – THE WAY HUMANS DO IT! MEET MY FRIENDS – SMITH AND WESSON!"

I whipped out my dual miniguns and fired until all I could taste was lead and my eyes stung from gunpowder residue. When the smoke cleared, it looked like Nickolodeon Slime Fest 2006, when Zac Efron was covered in record amounts of slime. Except this was real slime. And some of it was purple.

"Hell Yeah." I pulled a pepsi can from my pack and cracked it open. "Time to get hydrated."

...

I flick off the TV and rise from the couch. My body is stiff and uncomfortable. The clock reads 3:03 am. I go out to the fire escape stairwell to smoke a cigarette. The smell of marijuana wafted down – it was impossible to tell where from. The harsh cough tells me. I look up, to where a gristled man looks down at me with a leery grin. Paint streaks his shirt. He leers down at me with a toothy grin.

"Hey, Pardner." Wanna buy a paintin'?"

"How much?"

He grins again.

"A quarter."

"Okay."

He cracks up, wheezing.

"I'm just kiddin', pardner, unless you're talking about a quarter of some fine arabian tropical. These here are fine paintin's, made out of sweat and heartache. 60$."

What the hell. I climb the stairs take a look. The paintings are bad; earnest in intent but lacking in execution. I can sympathize with the man. I can't spend $60 on his paintings though.

"Sorry, my friend. Call me after some practice." The man looks crestfallen, but he seems to understand. I climb back out and go back to my apartment.