🛸 I Got the Munchies for Your Moonbeams
The alert on The Mothaship isn’t a siren. It’s a wrong note.
A sour little tri-tone squeals through the engine room, makes the nebula outside flicker. The band freezes. The Captain squints up at the dome.
“Yeah, that’s not us,” he says. “That’s external.”
The starfield zooms, refocuses. Out from behind a dull gray moon slides an angular glass-and-steel ship, all hard edges and KPI green lights.
The Radio Operator grimaces. “Origin: Series X sector. Registry: Capital Ship Market Correction.”
A voice oozes over comms, flat as a spreadsheet:
“Unaligned craft, transmit your pitch deck. We’re not seeing a clear path to 1000x.”
The Engineer mutters, “Sucka VCs,” and checks the readings. “They’re charging a Term Sheet Ray. One hit and we’re locked into 36 months of board slides.”
The Captain smiles slow.
“Nah,” he says. “We’re good.”
He nods to the band. The ship drops into a heavy groove; engines sync to the kick drum. On the underside of The Mothaship, a circular aperture opens and condenses into a tight, glowing beam.
“I Got the Munchies for Your Moonbeams,” he says. “Fire.”
The Moonbeam lances out—through their hull, into their dashboards, their lizard-brain metrics. For a second, every display on the VC bridge shows live glimpses of unfunded joy: indie devs shipping weird stuff, laptop workers humming, mushrooms glowing gently in a greenhouse corridor.
On the enemy bridge, suits wobble.
“Sir,” whispers an analyst, eyes wide, “I don’t understand the business model… but the vibes are incredible.”
The Term Sheet Ray powers down.
A small escape shuttle peels off and hails The Mothaship:
“Hey. Ex–Sucka VC here. I, uh… got the munchies for your moonbeams.”
“Docking bay three,” says the Captain. “Somebody get ’em a laptop and some real shoes.”
They on our azz and dat ain't no joke!
Gotta leave them mothafuckin’ lizards in the smoke!
Tryna buy the vibe, tryna own the code,
But the Mothaship bumpin’ in rogue dev mode.
They want that deck? We just drop that set,
Beam moonbeams down, leave they suits all sweat.