StarLord origins (Guardians of the Galaxy Fanfiction)

Chapter 1 - Comfortably Hung

Chapter 1- Comfortably Hung

         As a general rule of thumb, whilst navigating any corner of the universe, one must assume at all times that every human, Oritopak, Barrikopot, and Drap Flallion that you run across is completely and utterly baked out of their mind. Don’t make the mistake for even one second, that anyone else has any fucking clue what is going on, what was said, or how things work, even if they insist that they do.

        If you make a plan with someone to meet somewhere, or exchange a specific amount of cash for goods or services,  you'd better make sure you've got a holo cord of it. A holo cord is short for holographic recording, or some similar recording device. 

        You must understand that this absence of memory in every living organism outside of an atmosphere is not for lack of interest or consideration. This is because, in fact, not one living thing that’s spent over a week in space has any recollection of anything beyond what JUST happened. Partly this is because of the drifter attitude everyone out here has, but it’s also primarily due to the fact that after the first time you fold space and time, your brain wants to seep out of your ears and melt back into your nostrils, planting little brain seeds for future bright ideas. That’s why mankind couldn’t sustain space flight long enough to reach the stars back in the day. It wasn't because of fuel burn, or sustainable air. We have oxygen generators for that for fucks sake. No no. We couldn’t stay in space for too long because after you've seen the kind of shit that I see on the daily, you're going to need something mighty powerful just to keep your brain in it’s dome. I'm not talking about that weak ass skunk weed you used to get from Skeedy Johnson down the block either. When mankind made first contact with life from other systems, it wasn't the technology we wanted... It was the reefer, space reefer. "Miley Cypress" to be exact. Of course, that’s what WE called it.  Probably because after just one hit, it feels like your hypothalamus is twerking your infundibulum lobes. You can’t even grow this shit in the central systems. So yes, we made a deal with our newfound pale skinned galactic neighbors. Of course, the first time was free. But after our initial test subjects started seeing other dimensions, and unlocking the potential of the human brain on scale we’d never seen, the world economy threw everything it had into deep space exploration. This was also credited to have been perpetuated by the rebirth of the Star Wars franchise by JJ Abrams, and the seemingly unrelated simultaneous legalization of marijuana on a planet wide scale. 

        It was Purple haze all over again. We didn’t just expand our minds, we expanded our lives. Some of us living for over 200 years. Our bodies prolonged, yet still mortal, and our souls - infinite and bright, reached into the vast empty blackness of space to cultivate our own awakening amongst the stars. Just as a side effect, and purely coincidental, but I think my junk is bigger because of it also.

        Surely we wanted to end world hunger and cure cancer and aids, and racism, sexism and politics, but once you've realized that every great film, song, game or novel you've ever experienced was conceived while under the influence of some hallucinogenic, you start to wonder if your parents were high when they told you to not do drugs.

        More than likely, this is why my parents named me... "Blaze", after their favorite thing to do after a shit day at their shit job. I guess that these days you could call me “Captain Blaze, but I’ve never been one for formalities. I’m 27 years old, but I still look 19. When I’m 55, I’ll finally be able to grow a goatee and hopefully have enough pubes to get some proper dreads going down there. I’ve been a deep space drifter for probably 12 years. Believe me when I say that I’ve had my kicks in that time. 

        Sure, I got a little debt. But I’m an opportunistic guy, and good stuff always comes around for me. Things are really picking up. I do a little of everything, Blogging, Pizza delivery, and on occasion, freelance cab work. They call it shyft. What you do is strap a nose with glasses to the front of your c class cruiser or light freighter, and fares holocall in for a ride. It's a great way to make a little cash, and meet new people... Er... Life forms. If she's cute or rich, we're there in five minutes, if she's ugg-ugg... I switch off the monitor.