Chronicles of the Chrome Visitor

Previously

…“What was that?” Barry asked, his voice barely a whisper. Gay wrung his hands, his iridescent glow dimming slightly. “That,” he whimpered, “was the galactic emergency signal. Used only for… extreme cases of unauthorized vacationing and severe breaches of intergalactic protocol.” From the inky blackness of space, a new light began to descend. It was sharp, precise, and utterly devoid of any sparkle. It was the color of stern disapproval. “Oh, dear,” Gay repeated, his voice a faint, mournful chime. “I think my vacation just got significantly less fun.”