Stardate 188.8.131.52.52.67.23… automatic computer report to reconnaissance destination. Ship’s integrity has been breached, all systems are failing. Signaling SOS in rotations, terminal log out.
“Sir, I don’t shouldn’t Mr. Meyers know of Poochie’s fatal non-return?”
“This is not a matter for that human Roger Meyer’s concern. It is our problem… without Poochie, I just don’t know what will happen to our planet. That is our only concern.”
“But without Mr. Meyer’s invitation for Poochie to engage himself in the cartoon world of Earth, our brave hero would have never learned hippie ninja surfing… the crucial element to our survival.”
“If you wish to congratulate that human Roger Meyers on the production of our now most useless asset, I’m not going to stop you, but it’s just a breathless effort.”
Alone… lost in space… with no robot to guide him… floated Poochie, the sole survivor, and genius remedy of Poochanus, of the solo flight. The bubble over his head was squishing his brown elongation, bending his sunglasses, and pushing the brim of his purple hat against the back of his head, while his trusty surfboard was frozen to the side of his green argyle spacejump suit.
Could this be the end of the awesomenest gangsta’ Poochie? What legends could his fellow Poochaney home grown boys spread if they never knew of his telly-rocking powers? This dug more pain into the depths of Poochie’s plastic framed oblongs.
Just then, those very same surfaces gave a distant glistening glint of silver in the distance. What could that be? Poochie couldn’t understand his eyes. It was as if there was a silver man, on a silver surfboard, riding along through, space against a backdrop of, a silver galaxy… what a spectacular spactacle!
It came closer and then closer, and then closer still, until it was close enough. Then it stopped. Poochie, unable to control his movements, floated there, helplessly, unable to move.
The creature extended what looked like a very shiny arm towards the beagle-hound-genius, shiny enough to see your face in it. Yes, even yours!?! A giant silvery voice boomed, “What’cha doin’ there li’l guy?”
“Bark bark bark!”
Silver eyebrows raised themselves.
“Nah, just kidding you fool, I’m Poochie, in your face Frezno style!” Poochie barked some more, “Popozow hippie!”
The giant silvery voice of purlesence boomed again, “Ain’t you cute li’l feller… look at that toy surfboard you got there, aw, it’s all stuck to ya.”
Poochie frowned, “This ain’t no toy surboard, you da fool I pity! This is a deadly kung-fu weapon and extraterrestrial travelling device!” Then grinned, and made w-fingers.
“Lookie ‘ere, maybe you could use a little warmth…” the silver god soothed boomingly, “I know I could….
“Boys and girls, Moms and Dads, brothers and sisters, cats and dogs…
Honey could hear the sun announcing a new adventure, and grumbled herself, “I bet she’s out there Shortcake skipping down her little Strawberry Lane, to tend to her Strawberry Garden, and clean her Cake made of Strawberry and walk her little Pupcake, in her Cake Made of Strawberry, cause she lives in a Cake made of Strawberry. Sleeping all night in a Cake made of Strawberry, cleaning her all day in a Cake made of Strawberry, and playing outside of a Cake made of Strawberry. Who am I talking about?”
Her purple companion chimed, “Strawberry Shortcake wouldn’t you know?”
Honey oozed a glare towards Puddin “I tell you what she can do, she can play with my pupcake, repay me for helping her win the baking contest, see how she berry likes that.”
Puddin’ leaned forward, “Aw, come on T, it’s not like you don’t have your…” She hesitated realizing her insensitive future words.
T. N. Honey whipped herself around, “What? Health? All the shortening in the world you and I combined, and all we could berry do is get me sick and turn you into a berry girl.”
“Me? I didn’t get you sick, you’re the one who decided she needed performance enhancing artificial sweetener injections, I told you that stuff was berry bad, but did you berry listen? Oh noooo, and now you have berry AIDs. You’re not icing that on me.”
“And don’t forget the cancer…”
“It’s short and purple. Besides, What do you have to complain about? Once we berried you up, you got to back to Strawberryland. But you don’t know you didn’t have to fall in berry love with him.”
“Hey, Huckleberry’s not a bad kid, I mean, pie, er, guy… besides who could resist a pad like that? I mean, it’s a skate park… with pie!” Plum Puddin rolded her shoulders, “Besides Strawberry Shortcake says there’s always room for more berry friends in her Worldwide Friendship Club… I mean look how long she put up with Pepperment Fizz.”
Honey stirred up a laugh, “Yeah, but when Cola disappeared… nobody asked questions. Besides, who cares about them…”
“If you didn’t care you wouldn’t be talking about us!” A dewy Raspberry Tart’s head popped into the window, looking in straight at them. T. N. Honey falls out of her chair, and Puddin rushes to her side.
“What are you!? The berry gestapo?”
Raspberry hopped away from the window, and comes into the front door, “Well, Ms. Honey, I’ve got to berry bad news that’s berry good to you might want to hear.”
“What’s that Tart?”
“Well, Strawberry Shortcake…” Suddenly Raspberrie’s hues began to widen and pool up, “Dammit! I knew Peppermint should’ve done this, she would’ve enjoyed it.” She took in a berry small breath and regained her control of her composure, “But that’s why I’m doing it, well… Strawberry Shortcake has fallen berry ill.”
This percolated Honey’s interest despite being decaffenaited for five years now, and made Plum Puddin’s stomach jiggle, “You mean she’s berry sick?”
Raspberry leaned in and put a hand to the wide of her mouth, “They think she’s got… berry cancer.” She spotted a cupcake on the table near her and stuffs it in her mouth whole and swallows, “Ugh, I’ve got such a weight problem, oh well, I’ll just throw it up later like berry always…”
That’s the kick-off folks! Thanks for reading and look forward to more,