NOTES: This is a fanfic shorter than my usual ones, because I've had the biggest case of writers block. I am simply writing not to advance the storyline, but to give you out there proof that I'm still alive and writing the series. I hope to start writing more once I can get some plot ideas. E-mails please!
DISCLAIMER: Power Rangers belongs to Saban. Q belongs to Star Trek. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Rogue Squadron belongs to George Lucas.
Most of the characters are from the above sources, but a few are mine. You know who they are. Feel free to use them, if you have my permission first. The title, "A Daze in the Life," comes from a Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure comic book that a friend showed me.
A Daze in the Life
By Adam Safran
The Blunder Rangers were out miniature golfing. Bretta was at the
driving range. She walked up to the man in charge of it, who boredly sat watching tv.
"Uhm, excuse me sir. Can I um, please, like have some more balls?" Bretta asked politely.
"Why, does the little girly want to get them for her big boyfriend? Or does she want to pretend that she's out here hitting balls with all of the big men? Ha-ha! Thats rich, a girl getting through all the balls and not complaining about her nails having chipped," the guy insultingly grunted at Bretta, and then he began laughing. Her eyes spat red fire at him, figuratively, and her hands shot out and grabbed him by the scuff of the collar. He started screaming as she drug him by his feet back to the shooting range. She straightened him out, held him upside down like a golf club, and swung him towards the ball with all of her energy. She missed the ball, but she sent a divot flying.
"Hmmm, only 1784 yards. I'm slipping. But then, he is a little heavier than a club, but I did miss the ball." She dropped the ball attendant, whose hair was on fire, was missing teeth, and brushed her hands off and left the driving range. Several of the men there grunted in sympathy, and went back to their games. This wasn't the first guy that had yelled at her and paid the price. Some guys would just never learn.
Poindexter sat with a club that didn't look like a club. It had dozens of electronic devices and computers all over it. It weighed over 100 lbs. Poindexter proudly said, "This device will revolutionize the golf game by automatically swinging for you, and by analyzing all effects that go into the actual movement of the ball, it guarantees a hole in one."
Someone walked up to him and stated the obvious, "One, that club is illegal to use. Two, it will probably break upon contact. And three, there's no way you can swing that thing. You can barely lift it, much less swing it." Poindexter turned, looked, and immediately became depressed. He tried to throw it into a garbage can, but it dropped on his foot and he
danced around, screaming at the top of his lungs holding his foot.
Bulk and Skull were at the first hole. They didn't notice several
monsters creeping up behind them. Skull took a swing, and in his backswing he nailed a monster right where the reproductive glands would be if it were human. The monster let out a brief wail and then collapsed to the ground. Bulk took a swing, and his ball richochetted off of the windmill that was an obstacle, off the roof of the building, skimming the water, off the nearby rock, off Goldar's head, and then off several more monsters, until they all fell unconscious and teleported off. The ball finally rolled back onto the green for a hole in one. Bulk smiled and motioned for Skull to take his shot.
At Rogue Base, the potential inductees into Rogue Squadron had begun to arrive. As soon as they got there they were ushered into the briefing room, and without any chance for discussion, they were divided up into several teams. Each team was given a different background and mission. Some were mercenaries escorting someone, some were bounty hunters, others were escorting a convoy. They would be flying a large variety of craft with a large variety of missions. Ravage came up and briefed each one. "Your
score will be based upon two things. One, how many kills you make, and two, how many of you survive. The more of you survive, the more points you get. Good luck."
The cadets entered the simulator, and the missions began. They all noticed that they were coming out of hyperspace prematurely. Then they
noticed the Kiljoy pirate fleet, which had superior weapons, craft and technology to them. The trainees were completely unorganized, unled, and outclassed, and outnumbered. The story of their mission will be next.