Aliens took over the Earth last night while I was asleep. It’s about the fourth time they’ve managed it this year the nasty bastards. I lie down, close my eyes, and then spend the next few hours in a life and death struggle against extra planetary forces from somewhere behind Betelgeuse.
They must approach the Earth from behind the moon or something because everybody (NASA and radio telescope geeks included) seems to be surprised when they arrive on the scene. But once they rip on through the ozone layer, well, everyone kind of goes a little bit nuts. Dogs start running around in aimless circles. Women get to screaming and carrying babies in blankets while men hoist pitchforks and shotguns and quote Nostradamus. And bad luck if you’re in the military kid. You get smoked in the first few hours. It’s those funky invisible shields – they’ll pop you every time.
I like to think that I’d be a bold hero for all of humanity in times such as these but it seems that I’m not the most dependable person in an apocalypse. My first reaction involves a desperate amount of running and generally avoiding being squashed or burned (or whatever the killing flavour is that particular night). In my defense these aliens really are a fearsome lot with their flesh searing weaponry and expensive chrome accessories.
Last night’s invaders were intelligent jellyfish that could fly. Sometimes you get cosmic octopi or those big-eyed midgets from the X-Files. I think I like the midgets the best. At least with them you feel like you have a chance. Like you could maybe get an almighty kick to the head in before one lobotomizes you with its psychic powers. Anyway, like I said the jellyfish were a somber lot and doing quite well with the whole unleashing mayhem and destroying mankind thing before events for them turned for the worse.
It always happens the same way. Some dopey guy stumbles about in his pajamas and accidentally finds the invader’s weakness just as he’s about to get squished. (Note that this usually only happens after most of the Earth lay in rubble and hope has clocked off for lunch.) Last night the jellyfish’s Achilles’ heel was garlic-infused water. Once Dopey’s discovery went public the men with the pitchforks descended upon delicatessens and pizza places everywhere, skewering every piece of garlic bread in sight.
This, of course, turned the tide. The jellyfish beat a hasty retreat. They send down apologetic fruit baskets as they leave, as if to say the whole thing was just a big misunderstanding – some kind of intergalactic double-park. People the world over are elated. They elect pajama man President. They want to make something out of this whole mess. Kinda like big Arnie in California.