Dronebirds
Dronebirds
Welcome back. We’re here with Thom6Mary, who you all know is the first person to escape the Dronebirds. Unscathed, as they used to say. Hey, first of all, thanks for agreeing to do this.
Oh, my pleasure, Mike14Lauren. I really enjoy your showbrand. My wifepet and I watch you all the time.
Thanks. So, we know you’ve had quite a harrowing experience. Everyone was watching on Comm5 as the Dronebirds methodically drove you to the edge of Bristolbank Riverflood.
Not just any part of the riverflood. Those fuckweens forced me onto Shawan Heights Ridge.
That’s a two-hundred-meterfoot drop!
I know it is, Mike14Lauren! I almost urinespat my utility holster.
C’mon now, Tom6Mary.
Okay, okay, I did urinespit my utility holster. Hahaha.
Hahaha. You’re fine; nobody can blame you for that. Let’s go back to the beginning. How did this start, and why were you up in that particular regionblock?
Well, that morning I was in the kitchen with my daughter/son, Lucy3Markus.
They’re a cutie; I’ve seen the photodrawings on Comm5.
Thanks, they are. So I asked them what they wanted for breakfast. They said, “Wafflestones.” I said, “Wafflestones?? For breakfast??”
Kids these days.
I know. Anyway, I ordered the wafflestones. By the way, my wifepet and my wifejan were still in sleepmode.
Where was your wifedroid?
Cosmetic enhancements.
Gotcha. Sorry, go ahead.
So anyway, I got a call from my supplycrim, Maggie98. She told me, “There’s gold in them thar hills.”
What the jeezfux does that mean?
You know oldskins; they’re pretty weird like that. Hahaha.
Hahaha.
Well, “gold” is her term for dinghemp, and “them thar hills” meant Chester Fields, you know, up past Winston Drag Fortkill.
Can’t say I know it well, but I’ve seen vidpacks on CommX.
Oh, you dirty fuckween, Mike14Lauren. Hahaha.
Guilty as charged. Hahaha.
So after the kid finishes their wafflestones, I throw them in the schoolchute, get my hammerprong and ditchboots, and head out. But then my wifepet wakes up, and she wants to, you know, throw the ol’ back out, as my grandfather used to say.
So, you have just the one wifepet?
Yeah, just the one. So we do the Slippery Elmsworth for a couple of hours.
Hahaha. I remember that old one.
Hey, it’s still good. It’s still damn good. Anyway, we cleaned up, and then I headed off to Chester Fields. So I get there, and I’m digging up some fine dinghemp and stuffing it in my green grabbag, when I hear the zipbuzz sounds overhead.
Uh-oh.
Yeah.
Do you think Maggie98 called it in? Like a seizetrap?
Dunno. Sure would be some dirty skivwaste if she did. I’ve known her for twenty-two staryears. Family almost. Even if she is a geriscab.
Did you run or did you lie still? They say you’re supposed to lie still.
Let me tell you. They’re all spewing buttlint. I knew they were Dronebirds, so I said to myself, “Time to blow the brine off this pickle,” as my grandfather used to say.
You’re one brave fuckween, my friend.
What else could I do? Lie there and get eviscerated by their scissortongues? Not this digger. Not on that morning. So I dropped my green grabbag and ran. I hated to leave all the fresh dinghemp behind, but I had no choice.
Ah, but I bet you chewed on some goldbuds before you ran. Am I right?
Hahaha, you got me. Had to make the trip worthwhile, you know.
Hahaha.
Thing is, they started to surround me, but not too threatening yet, you know. It seemed like they were pushing me toward the river. Metaphorically speaking.
Gotcha.
I didn’t have the area memorized in my cloundbank so, yeah, I ran in the direction they allowed me, and I would figure it all out later. The goldbuds kicked in, and I was yelling and cursing at them.
What?! They hate that. I saw a poor fuckween on Comm12 who did that. He was in pieces in less than a minute. They only had his right patella to give to his wifepets for the burialfire.
I can’t watch Comm12. It’s way too much for me.
I hear you. I need to, for work, you see. What happened next?
I ran. I didn’t know it at the time, but the Dronebirds were directing me to Peterson’s Overhang at Shawan Heights Ridge—exactly where the Bristolbank Riverflood is the nastiest.
Those buzzfuck weenwankers.
Yeah. So I got to the ridge, and I could hear them zipbuzzing overhead, and I could hear the splashdump of the riverflood below. I looked over the edge, and I almost lost my breakfast tablets. Luckily, the goldbuds are anti-nausea, you know.
I’ve been told.
Hahaha.
Hahaha.
So I had to make a decision to jump or not. Hopefully hit a soft pelicanshank on the way down.
I wouldn’t want to be in your crusty ditchboots.
No kidding. The Dronebirds surrounded me and were coming in closer. And they had their scissortongues out. I could only think of one thing to do. I got out my Commpoint and slid it on. I called Vinnie’s and ordered a pizza.
What?!
Yeah, an extra large garlic and asparagus pie with extra garlic and extra asparagus. It took eight torturous minutes. The Dronebirds got one whiff of the pie and started chasing the pizzadrone. I redirected the delivery to an abandoned farmhouse in Blueville.
Wow! Unbelievable.
Yeah. So I walked back, picked up my green grabbag, and skedoodled home, as my grandfather used to say.
I think it’s skedaddled.
Whatever.
Wow. Thanks for sharing your story, Thom6Mary. Now everyone knows how to avoid Dronebirds.
Sorry, the weenwankers at Warslice already updated their firmware. Won’t work anymore on Dronebirds.
Well, thanks for your story, at least. It was fascinating. I almost urinespat in my slackleggers.
Ah, thanks. Nice to be here.
Well, have a good night, everyone. It’s your old pal Mike14Lauren signing off. See you next time.
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Okay, we’re out.
Hey, so you think I should get another wifepet?
