Silly Story I started

Cosmic Toothless Space Monkeys Gumming Their Way to Happiness

123 looked at his assignment in the human realm.. It was just no good studying like this, nothing ever stuck with hm anyway. Being a 3000 year old alien certainly had it's drawbacks at times. He squinted in the dim light and read:

“The first thing to remember about humans is that they believe that they come from monkeys. They believe this thoroughly and without question. The fact that there are monkeys in every zoo does not deter them from the belief. From this we can gather only: that they display the same behavior as animals. Confirmation of this data was gathered during their strange habitual ceremonies such as a thing they call, “Super Bowl Sunday”. And in the female of the species a sacred ceremony observed religiously every year entitled, “Black Friday.”

However our top minds have discussed this and researched it thoroughly. We have come to understand that they actually evolved from a thing called a “banana.” Our top scientist 708 has confirmed this information. Your mission on earth: Gather data and over throw the human race.

123 sighed and smacked his intercom switch to the “ON” position. The ancient intercom was faulty and filled with wiring misconceptions that were firmly believed in and implemented by 123 himself. Upon his orders the efficiency manual was followed to the letter, so that worried staff would get only parts of his commands. He figured it was safer that way, it allowed him plausible deniability and it saved on batteries.

“Crew,” he screeched in his least high-pitched speaking voice, “let me draw your attention to the screen. We have an important mission. We must defeat the animals that call themselves humans. This will indeed be a historic day when we do indeed attack! I have implemented a strategy that will no doubt render our enemies helpless. The humans it is said derive from the most base fruit entitled the bananas. See screen.”

However since 123 had refused the help of any snobby mechanic his message was sparse and sporadic. So what the crew actually heard was this, “Crew Draw your attention to the mission. We must defeat historic, helpless bananas.”

At this moment the spaceship hit a pod of space trash floating higglty-migledy through the milkyway. This might have caused no trouble at all had it not been for the fact that 123 had again rejected any advice from the snobby guys in mechanics and installed the air-breaks himself. His ship swerved and smashed right into a large asteroid, just as the two teen aliens on the ship were sneaking an escape pod out for a joy-ride. The 2 had gotten away unscathed but only just in time to watch as the Mother-in-law ship smashed into the asteroid and exploded.

The 2 teen aliens having been brother and sister tried hard to console each other. Fazer looked at 591 as if she might cry. 591 put his webbed arm around his sister and said, “Perhaps they survived.”

“I doubt it, “replied Fazer, “And that can only mean one thing.”

“What's that?” 591 inquired.

“From now on we have to clean up after ourselves.” And at that thought both were reduced to tears.

It was a while before the whole mourning mixed with a sense of patriotic duty flooded the teens minds and so they headed to earth but not until their sullen teen-age bellies were sufficiently stuffed with the alien equivalent of pizza. It was clearly their mission to defeat the bananas in loving memory of their ancestry. The how and why was still not very clear to them but being naturally curious they decided to do their best.

An hour or so later Fazer stood atop an earth hill that looked down on a human community. Lights and neon signs dotted her view and as her brother walked up beside her he stated, “Wow. It's really ugly. Probably the fault of the bananas.”

“I dunno,” Fazer mused, “I kinda like it. It's shiny.” She began to walk towards the stone steps cut into the side of the hill when her brother anxiously wailed, “Where are you going?”

“We can't fight the bananas if we can't find them. Can we?” Fazer pointed out.

“You can't go down there. You don't know what's out there. They could be waiting in ambush. You don't even have any weapons. Things have to be planned!” 591 snapped.

“How long will that take?” Fazer asked rolling her eyes at waiting for something that was so obviously designed to keep her from having any fun in the human city below.

“Well, we have to make a plan, then we'll write them up somewhere and send them to the orbital space congess where they can be debated and voted on by the public. Once that's done we will wait while the space-buerocrats argue and debate the pro's and con's of the actual plan of invasion. Then...”

“How long?” Fazer interuppted.

“Could take years... I'd say best case scenario... about a century for it to become an actual law,” 591 informed her bluntly.

“I haven't got time like that! I'm going,” Fazer proclaimed and stomped off.

“Okay then report back to me at 0500,” ordered her brother.

“What time is that here?” Fazer asked turning on her heel.

“No idea,” explained 591, “I only just got here.” This reponse was met with Fazer again rolling her eyes and was puncuated with a sigh and a grumble. She turned her sights to the city below.

Fazer stood outside of a dwelling from which came sounds of boisterous laughter, loud whoops and yells comingled with the sound of synthsized musical notes that seemed to hang high in the air, encircle her and disapate into the hills all at the same time. She had no idea of what music actually was... but she could already tell she liked it.

The first human she saw walking up to the establishment was dressed in garments that must not have been made for him as the trousers hung too low in the back. He called him self Baby Love in order to make all of the lovely ladies swarm to him where ever he went.

At this moment Fazer had busied herself trying to decode the message that the blinking neon sign was obviously sending out in Morse code. Her face changed here and there as the sign flashhed long for dashes and short for dots... yet could make no sense out of it. “Guess it's encrypted,”she thought.

Baby Love looked at Fazer standing there and though he usually didn't go out for bald girls, he was in an adventurous mood due to a few too many shots of tequilla he'd consumed at another club.

Fazer watched as the being with the ill-fitting trousers approached her. By way of greeting Baby Love tried out his never-fail pick-up line, “ S'up Dawg!”

Fazer waited before she spoke. “If the Morse code in the neon blinking of the sign is encrypted this could be a ploy. I am unarmed. I'll just try to fit in, ' she thought.

Baby Love now more adamant then ever to score tonight repeated his pick-up line, “S'up dawg!”

Fazer thought for a moment as to what response might be socially acceptable in this setting. The boy with the ill-fitting trousers had called her a dog, and so she decided to play along. She began to bark loudly.

Baby Love jumped backwards as he had not yet consumed enough liqour to make a bald, meth-head honey look sexy. He shook his head and walked into the bar alone, wondeing to himself why the sure-fire pick-up line had never worked for him once.