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.
