Adventures of Corkhorn Issue 1: Bubble Tea Blues

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Chapter 7

The Anthro-life support package depressurized automatically the second gravity went down. Corkhorn’s body had a silvery spacesuit slapped around him. The moment his helmet sealed shut. The magic leaking out his broken horn filled any snares. Corkhorn’s eyes popped open. He gasped in air.

Something miraculous crossed his vision. It was big. It was shiny. It needed delivered.

“My Boba Pearls,” Corkhorn cheered.

The Boba Pearls crate was one in a long line of spilled cargo trailing back to the ship. Each crate got caught in the beam of a green light. A cone opened in the middle of it and Zoop! In the Crate shot inside.

“A Gravity chute?” Corkhorn questioned. “Isn’t that a bit forceful on a slow tractor beam?”


Flames engulfed her body. She breathed in deep. Fire licked down her throat. She sighed unholy smoke and grinned to promised torture.

Corkhorn gulped. Certain parts of his body retreated into themselves. First being his courage. Next being manly vigor.

“TIME TO FRY PONY PUNK!” Captain Cluck-vers ordered.

“Aw hell no!” Corkhorn responded. He activated his jet boots and padded away.

Cluck-vers unfurled her wings. Lit the darkness ablaze with her power. One deep breath in. The flames rushed fourth.

. . . into a cutesy puff of smoke.

A pleasant breeze caressed Corkhorn’s back. The unicorn risked a glance. Captain Cluck-ver’s dragon breath didn’t go very far. Even though her entire being engulfed in flames. The Captain’s attacks never flung off her primary feathers.

It all clicked the more Captain Cluck-vers struggled to attack. Here outside her element the oxygen kept coming in. Combustible gasses kept crackling out. Yet the flames would not spread away.

“That name your Boatswain called you, Air Fried Chicken Witch was it?” Corkhorn guessed, “That name hasn’t always been there has it? The damage the ship and her crew suffered. That was you.”

“PUNK!” Captain Cluck-vers roared, “If I can’t torch you I’ll roast you instead.”

The ship was getting closer and closer to the Boba Pearls. Corkhorn pulled on his breathing tube. Warning signs flashed holograms in his face. He pulled off a chunk of asteroid. Trapped it in the pressurized tube. As Captain Cluck-vers loomed ever closer. Her flames extended her reach to Corkhorn’s throat.

Corkhorn unplugged one end of the breathing tube. The asteroid chunk rocketed into Cluck-vers face with a smash. It still kept going. Captain Cluck-vers oxygen and moisture levels did not.

Like a potato left too long in an air fryer. Captain Cluck-vers lit like a match. Flames couldn’t reach their target. So, in a bid to burn turned on their Air-Fried-Chicken master. Heat licked at Cluck-vers body. Anger twisted her features into something ugly.

Corkhorn squeezed his eyes shut. He pushed the Boba Pearls away from the flames. Prayers to God he’d survive. Only to get sucked in.



His helmet got clouded by foam. He wiped the sticky cloud away. Pirates on either side of him had extinguishers aimed at his face. Their grips had slackened on the nozzle. Corkhorn gazed up and up at the giant Pachycephalosaurus striding forward. Fresh burns made Corkhorn’s stomach twist and squeeze. Yet somehow everyone else was on tenterhooks?

Corkhorn turned to look behind him and suddenly wished he hadn’t. Captain Cluck-vers, the Air Fried Chicken Witch of the universe had burned off enough feathers that her skin crisped to a nasty mess. Her flesh stretched taught over her bones from lack of moisture. Her clothes fared no better than her feathers.

Corkhorn’s eyes bulged out in his skull. He gulped down a bundle of nerves. The Captain’s crew at his front. Their whooped Captain at the back. Corkhorn gathered his haunches beneath him. Injuries laced agony up his ribs and pounding headache from his broken horn. Fore-hooves gently touched the ship’s burnt floor. Corkhorn bowed but his shoulders shook and his tail lashed around in distress.

“I’m sorry,” Corkhorn professed, “But I might destroy the whole ship if I don’t put a cork in it. Do you have a spare cork please?”

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