Flyn' Solo, Commodore Ludwig. Part 1/5

Personal Log. Commodore Ludwig. 04.05.01

The Liberace has been out of central command for over a week now and the J-Lud has spent the better part of that time gettin' the 411 on his pepes. Today, I thought I'd pay some homage to the Liberace, cuz a cat that don't know his ride just ain't jive. We were cruisn' on through the Gold Nugget Solar System – so dubbed cuz a posse of 49ers found some major bling in an asteroid belt hummin' through the system – and I decided to bust out my piloting moves.

Now as numero uno of this bad boy, I can't just pop in a few commands and let the auto pilot do its thing. I've got a reputation to consider, being the youngest ever to command a star ship and all. So, I thought I'd get more props flyin' solo through that bitchn' plague of roids.

Let me tell you, jaws dropped when the crew witnessed J-Lud's mad piloting skills. Bet a wad of Benjamins none of them figured a dude with only thirty hours of simulation pilot training could cut such cool lines, but the J-Lud's not your run of the mill chinco. I got instincts like a Milotopian Wombat and reflexes like a Koosh Koosh tiger fox.

So impressed in the way I handled my hot rod, Officer Varook couldn't help but crunch on the J-Lud's rad vibes. I swear she was standing so close you couldn't pass a radio signal between us. Though she is one dope dame, I didn't let her feminine bits distract me from slicing scintillating s-curves around those rockin' roids.