Category Archives: aliens

December 27, 2016 · 2:55 pm

Stardusters… Canto 27

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Canto Twenty-Seven – In the Bio-Dome

The delicate creature was four-legged and long-necked.  It looked a lot like Bambi to Alden if Bambi had been a reptilian creature with hexagonal violet-colored scales all over it.  It had large indigo eyes that made it look fawn-like and vulnerable.

“It is called a zhar-doe,” said Sizzahl sadly.  She was standing next to Alden and Gracie with the creature in front of them.  She reached out and stroked the side of its Bambi-like head fondly.  “It is the last of its kind, and when it dies, its species will be extinct.”

“Is Zahr-Doe its name?” Gracie asked.

“It is the species.  Why would you give it a name?  When we had vast herds of them, they were a domesticated food animal.”

“Will you eat this one?” asked Alden.   He still had his hands clamped over his private parts, but he reached out with his left hand to touch the thing’s velvety-soft ear.  It was an exquisitely beautiful creature.

“Only if it is a last resort.  It is too beautiful and precious to be butchered without great need.”  Sizzahl was petting the creature tenderly.  Hard to believe it didn’t have a name already.

“Is there no way the species can be saved?” asked Gracie, stroking the creatures neck with both hands.  Alden had loved Gracie since the moment he had first met her, but now, looking at her standing in the Bio-dome’s artificial forest of dying trees and plants petting the Bambi-thing, he noticed how lovely she looked as a completely nude young girl in the middle of a browning pastoral setting.  He was attracted to her in spite of the fact that her body was now a child’s body, but it was so much more than that.  Gracie’s simple, loving concern for a gentle creature of another world… well, it was looking more directly at what he knew to be Gracie’s soul than he had ever done before.

“I have the cloning technology at my finger tips,” said Sizzahl.  “This place was my parents’ attempt to save our natural world from the predations of the greedy and ruthless creatures that dominated our society.  But, the question becomes, should we save the species by cloning it if we cannot feed it and the new creatures will only starve, suffer, and die?”

“We brought you the plants you needed, didn’t we?” Alden asked.

“You did.  I thought being on the space station would protect those plants and I could bring them here to grow new food sources.”

“Is something wrong with the plants?”  Alden shivered, not with the cold of being completely naked in an alien place, but with a sudden fear that he already knew the answer to the question.

“They are all blighted and dying.  I asked he Tellerons to verify it with the instruments, but I’m nearly certain.”  Sizzahl was actually crying.  Alden saw tears in her snake’s eyes.  It was difficult to comprehend a lizard-person crying, but the little-girl alien was so human-like as she was crying…

Gracie, bless her Iowegian heart, wrapped both her arms around Sizzahl and held her in a comforting hug.

“My goodness, girl,” Gracie said, “You are warm and soft to hug.  You are more like us than the Tellerons are.”

“My people are warm-blooded just like yours.  We are not really reptiles, you know.  We are more saurian… like your birds or your dinosaurs on planet Earth.”

“How do you know so much about Earth?” asked Alden.

“Well, I am a genius among my kind.  I have what you would call an I.Q. of about 195 in the terms of your science on Earth.  Besides, the alien visitors that used to come to our world, like the Sylvani or the Zeta Reticulans have brought specimens of your people here for study and to perform certain special tasks that aided in their off-world agendas.”

“Earth people have been to your planet before?” asked Gracie, cuddling the lizard-girl close to her warm heart.

“Oh, yes, and I imagine some of our people have been taken to your world too.  The governments of both our planets have been contacted long, long ago by space-faring races.”

“Really?”  Alden was skeptical.  Walter Cronkite and Bryant Gumbel never said anything about aliens contacting the government.  “Why haven’t we been told about this?”

“Judging by your television broadcasts, I believe your government believes the average person is too stupid and easily upset to comprehend the truth.  Our leaders were like that for many years before your leaders even were told.  There will come a crisis point one day, though, that people will have to find out.  Here it came shortly before we started to destroy ourselves with unending war for profit.”

“You are going to save your planet, aren’t you, Sizzahl?” Gracie asked, suddenly seeming alarmed.

“I don’t know.  Sometimes I think they are not worth saving.  Sometimes a people on a planet can become so self-centered and terrible that they don’t deserve to survive.  The alien visitors gave up on us a few years ago and left.”

“We are alien visitors,” said Alden, “and we aren’t giving up on you yet.”

“You are not afraid I might eat you or take advantage of you?”

“Of course not,” said Gracie.  She patted Sizzahl on the back in a way Alden knew was meant to be reassuring.

“I do want to take advantage of you, though.”

“Oh?” asked Gracie.  “How?”

“Your DNA is somewhat compatible with my own.  Not yours, Grace, because you are a simuloid now, not a real person.  I want some of Alden’s DNA to use to make a fusion race, half Galtorrian, half Earth human.”

“You mean you want me to make babies with you?” Alden gasped.

“Not the way you think.   I want to make them in a sealed jar and grow them in vats.  I will just need samples of your blood and tissues.  It doesn’t even need to hurt.”

Alden felt a bit shaken.  Could he do that?  Or was Sizzahl right to suggest her people deserved to go extinct?  And what did she mean when she suggested Gracie wasn’t real?

At that moment, Davalon and Tanith came in looking sad.  Both were naked.  Both were holding each other’s hands.

“We have bad news,” said Tanith.  “The plants we saved from the space station are all diseased according to the instruments.”

Sizzahl only nodded, then buried her scale-covered face in Gracie’s shoulder to cry more loudly.

*****

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December 20, 2016 · 4:42 pm

Stardusters… Canto 26

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Canto Twenty-Six – On the Moon Gundahl

Farbick and Starbright sat together on the bench outside the fat Galtorrian’s office in the moon base where the Tellerons were now prisoners.  Biznap was inside arguing vehemently about something.  The two lizard-men, apparently the only lizard-men on the entire moon, were arguing from a position of strength and superiority, though Farbick could plainly see that the Telleron landing party out-numbered them, seemed smarter than them, and definitely had better and more capable technology.

“Do you think Commander Biznap will secure our freedom?” Starbright asked guilelessly.  Her large green eyes were shimmering with tremulous female uncertainty.  She was attractive in ways no other female had ever seemed to Farbick before.

“He’s the best officer and negotiator we have in Xiar’s entire fleet,” Farbick answered, “so, no… probably not.  We are not very competent when it comes to things like this.”

“We are doomed?  Will they eat us?”

“Well, Biznap couldn’t bargain his way out of a paper sack,” said Farbick.  “Especially in view of the fact that we can’t really let these cannibal lizards get their claws on high tech devices like cloaking fields, invisibility cloaks, and skortch rays… certainly not star drives for space ships.  But a paper sack is made of paper, after all.  We could punch our way out.”

“What do you mean?”

“These lizard men are not very smart.  They are not very well armed, as long as they don’t acquire and learn how to use our weapons.  They seem tough on the outside, but I think we could beat them in a fight.”

Starbright looked at him skeptically.  “You think so?”

“We need to take the initiative.  I’m sure if the three of us, as Tellerons, worked together and eliminated the little warrior-guy, the fat one would surrender easily.  He doesn’t appear to be the kind who fights his own battles.”

“You are very brave and haves been through lots of difficult situations, but I’m a poor, frail female with skills I learned in the egg, but no practical experience.  I would end up causing you and brave Commander Biznap to die needlessly.  It would be a terrible thing.”

“We are not going to give up and be beaten so easily,” said Farbick.  “If I learned one thing in my time as a captive among Earther primates, it is that every individual has inner resources that they may not even know they have.  Together we are more formidable than we have ever let ourselves believe.”

“You really think so?”

Farbick looked at her lovely round face and earnest expression.  He thought about the kissing thing.  He had seen Alden and Gracie Morrell do it.  He had seen Harmony Castille and Commander Biznap do it.  It was a strange Earther thing, but if he turned his face just a little to the right, he could…

“What are you… mmmph… doing?”  She looked shocked.

“It is an Earther custom, expressing respect and admiration.”

“Oh… it is?”

“And love.”

Her eyes lit up at the Earther human concept that had seemingly been the only thing to thwart the invasion of Earth.  He could see she was intrigued.  Old reruns of I Love Lucy and Bewitched were part of every Telleron tadpole’s how-to-be-like-an-Earther training, programmed directly into their developing brains while in their amniotic egg-sacks.  Tellerons were gestated in eggs and programmed with learning programs until they were the equivalent of an Earther eight-year-old, at which point they were all saturated with the kissing thing poured directly into embryonic brains, and ready to be born.

“Like Darren and Samantha?  In Bewitched?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She leaned in and repeated the gesture.  She improved on it.  It lasted a very long time and Farbick felt that she liked it nearly as much as he did.  They could make tadpoles together… even if he did have inferior Fmoogish blood in his veins.

At that moment they were interrupted by Commander Biznap.

“Good news!  I have secured our release, Farbick!”

“What did you promise them?” asked Farbick.

“That we would strip the entire available tech out of the wing and leave it here, along with Starbright to teach them how to use it all.”

“And how do we get Starbright back?”

“Oh, uh… we don’t.  When they are finished learning how to use the technology, they will eat her.”

*****

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Starbright

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December 18, 2016 · 5:14 pm

The Interstellar Bad Poetry Challenge

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The Ixcanixian Cultural Ambassador from the Squeelix Sector of the Planet Ixcanix sent me an e-mail about his planet’s newest idea for a cultural exchange.  He calls it the “Ixcanixian Spleegle Gorn Vorpaloop” which translates to the “Ixcanixian Interstellar Bad Poetry Challenge”.  At least, it does if I am conjugating the verb “Vorpaloop” correctly.  It is difficult because you have to drop the silent “y” before adding the “aloop” without causing it to explode.  I know it is probably a very bad idea to present it here on this planet, but he talked me into it by promising to promote my novel Catch a Falling Star on his homeworld and at least two other planets in the Bugeye Federation.

Here are the rules for the alien poetry contest;

  1. Entries can only come from planets in the Orion Spur of the Sagittarius  Spiral Arm of the Milky Way Galaxy.  (So, for you non-astronomers out there, we on Earth do qualify.)
  2. All poets must be less intelligent than the Mud-Eaters of Paralaxos IV as they will be employed as judges of what poetry is truly bad.  (Again, Earth qualifies as we have recently elected Trump and also allow Nigel Farage of Great Britain to continue to exist.)
  3. Entries must not be so long that the total weight of letters exceed critical mass and form black holes in the intergalactic servers when uploaded.
  4. Vogons need not apply.  Their poetry is so bad, they would automatically win, causing the death of trillions of bad poetry readers in the galaxy.
  5. Entries must not cause thermonuclear reactions with cesium.
  6. Please refrain from confusing good poetry with bad poetry.  The Vornloos of Talos XII are looking for poetry they can weaponize, and no one wants a poetry contest winner to suddenly create World Peace on Talos XII.  That would be bad for the galaxy as a whole in ways that are very difficult to explain.

A sample of interstellar bad poetry is included here to inspire the kind of poetry we seek.

Ratzen Bargle’s Bisketoon  (a love poem by Touperary Kloob, Poet Laureate of Antares VI)

Ratzen Bargle was a Doofus,

From the planet Rufus-Ploofiss,

And he had a lovely bride,

With a head not tall, but twice as wide.

She had three eyes and two were green.

She had the loveliest fleen you’ve ever seen.

And as they sat ‘neath a wayward moon,

He kissed his lovely bisketoon.

Immediately before naught was said,

She bit off his tiny three-eyed head.

And then she ate him bones and all

With sauce that really becomes the fall.

And so it is on Rufus-Ploofiss,

That  males all die with one last roof-kiss.

Because they sit under wayward moons

With their lovely, hungry bisketoons.
 

 

Should you have the unfortunate urge to participate in this senseless and probably suicidal poetry contest, you are welcome to offer four-line poems in the comment section, or email longer poems to Mickey at mbeyer51@gmail.com.  I will attempt to transmit the worst offers to the Ixcanixians as soon as I get my interstellar flooglebeeder transmitting again.  I will also post winners in a future alien poetry blog.

I have been warned that prizes range from instant execution by the Lizard Lords of Galtorr Prime to a beat up copy of Mickey’s 2012 novel Catch a Falling Star.  So, good luck with the bad poetry.

 

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December 13, 2016 · 3:56 pm

Stardusters… Canto 25

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Canto Twenty-Five – Inside the Bio-dome

As Davalon, Tanith, and both of the Morrells scurried into the airlock of the Bio-dome, Brekka, Menolly, and George Jetson, already naked, were merely standing around watching them.  There was a lizard girl covered in green and yellow scales, more human-looking than any Telleron, completely naked too, and only about the size of an eight-year-old human.

“Why aren’t you running?” cried Alden Morrell.

“Take off your clothes,” said the lizard girl, “and then you don’t have to worry either.”

“What?  Why?”

Alden had gone all red in the face, a look that Davalon had come to know as embarrassment.

“The guardian machine-man reads anything artificial as signs of a scabby.”  The lizard girl seemed no more embarrassed by her nudity than were the tadpoles.  “It looks for manufactured goods like clothing or weapons to determine a target.  Naked you become part of the flora and fauna that it guards.”

Davalon and Tanith quickly stripped down and the Morrells were forced to follow suit.  When the machine-man came into the chamber, all clothing, skortch rays, monitors, computers, and tracking devices that the tadpole expedition had brought with them lay in a pile in a corner by the door.  The artificial man wandered over to the pile, examined it, picked up a few items, and then put them down again.  Davalon wondered at Alden, all red in the face, hands clamped over his genital area.  Gracie, it seemed, was far more comfortable being nude and did not display the same behaviors.

“When can we get dressed again?” asked Alden immediately after the machine-man left.

“Never,” said the lizard girl.  “I have a number of still-functioning machine-men guarding this place and all the bio-forms in it.   You are only safe as long as you remain completely natural and bear no artificial clothing or gear.”

“We have to be naked as long as we’re here?”  Poor Alden seemed distressed.

“It’s all right, Alden,” said Gracie with a huge grin.  “You haven’t looked this good naked in a number of years.  You need to let go and learn to love your new body.  I certainly think you are handsome!”

Alden grimaced uncomfortably.  Davalon agreed with Gracie.  His foster father’s child-like form was not at all unpleasant to look at.  In fact, he was beautiful to a Telleron tadpole who loved him for all the sacrifices he had made to be here with his foster son of another world.  He had given up life in Iowa.  He had given up his home and all his possessions.  He had given up his former identity as Alden Morrell, Iowa farmer.  And he had even given up his adult body to return to the body he had inhabited as a child so he could be the same age as his wife in her new simuloid body.

“You are Sizzahl?” Davalon asked the little naked lizard girl.

“Yes.  I brought you here.  Hopefully your cart is full of plants, seeds, and spores that I can use to save this world.  I might need samples of your flesh and blood as well.”

“You brought us here to eat us?” squealed Brekka.

“Of course not, stupid frog-girl.  I just mean I might have use for your froggy DNA.”

Davalon noticed how human-like she was.  Sizzahl had no hair.  She had a bony ridge on the centerline of the top of her head, and she was covered in soft-looking hexagonal scales, but otherwise she looked very human.  Her body proportions were the same as an Earther primate.  Her eyes had vertically-slitted pupils, but her face was human-shaped.  Even her pre-pubescent breasts and genitals looked more human than Telleron-like.

“Why would you need our DNA?” asked Tanith.

“Haven’t you noticed?  The biosphere of this planet is dying.  The stupid politicians, warriors, and industrialists killed it by over-using and abusing all of its natural resources.  And besides, boneheads like Senator Tedhkruhz poisoned what was left to bring his enemies down without realizing he would kill himself too.”

“How will you do that kind of restorative science without artificial devices?” asked George Jetson.

“There is plenty of tech built into this place that we can use without ever having to carry any of it with us and reveal ourselves to the machine-men.”

“How does that protect us from the scabbies?” Davalon asked.

“The scabbies are like the creatures in your Earther zombie movies.  They carry whatever they were wearing or carrying in life.  They don’t have enough brains left to get naked and put down their weapons.  The few that wander in here naked are fairly easy for me to kill by myself.  I assume that will be even easier now that you are all here to help me.”

“Who said we were willing to help you?” asked George Jetson.

“Will you not help me?” asked Sizzahl.  Her eyes, though snake-like, seemed almost to beg.  All tadpole eyes turned toward Davalon.

“I don’t see any reason not to,” Davalon said.

*****

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December 6, 2016 · 2:37 pm

Stardusters… Canto 24

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Canto Twenty-Four – In the Midst of Mayhem on Board the Base Ship

No one was about to argue with Harmony Castille.  She was intent on putting together a tadpole-hunting team to go after the runaway children, and the two adults who were in child-sized bodies now and therefore suspect as well.

“All right,” said Xiar skeptically, “exactly what do you want me to do about this situation of yours?”

Harmony arched her sleek black eyebrows and puckered up her beauteous visage into an angry old-lady stare that chilled Xiar to his very amphibian bones.  He had never known any female could put so much venom and vinegar into one look, but he was humbled now.  Nothing in his experience as a colony leader and deep space explorer had prepared him for this level of determined, disciplined horror.

“You will give me the commando team I ask for, and if you are any sort of war leader at all, you will grab a gun and lead from in front.  It is your heathen little frog-brats I intend to rescue after all.”

Xiar shuddered.  “All of my best men went with Commander Biznap.  And if I go be the war leader you speak of, who will run this ship?”

“May I suggest,” offered the beautiful Shalar, “that Harmony herself is the kind of war leader you need for this expedition.  Not only is she fierce enough, and capable enough of teaching the troops everything they will need to know, she has a good heart and a moral conscience.  You can trust her to do the right thing.”

Xiar let out a small sigh of relief at that suggestion… but he certainly wasn’t about to let Harmony herself hear it.  “Harmony, I will put you in charge and allow you to select the assault force.”

“Well, in that case, I need Shalar as my executive officer.  She has the smarts that are going to be needed in this combat theater.  I anticipate a bloody campaign, but we will prevail because God and science are both on our side!”

Xiar was once again horrified.  Since the Earthers had taught him all about love, he had been totally at the mercy of Shalar’s beauty.  What if something were to happen to her?  The love of his life?  The mother of a few of his favorite tadpoles?   “Does it have to be Shalar?”

“Yes, Captain, it does.”  Harmony’s eyes narrowed to vicious slits.  “I need you to actually care enough about this rescue mission to be willing to do whatever it takes to bring everyone back safely.  She will be my incentive for you to do the right thing at the right time.  Am I wrong, Shalar?  Doesn’t it seem he loves you enough to do anything it takes to get you back safely?”

“Oh, I hope so,” said Shalar, giving him that loving look that made him feel so squishy on the inside.  He did love her more than anything… more than life itself… well, almost.

“So, we will take Shalar, fifteen of your very brightest men, and Sub-lieutenant Studpopper… because he owes me!”

“You mean Sub-sub-sub-lieutenant Studpopper?”  Xiar grinned at that thought.

“Yes, that chicken-livered fellow who is not so smart most of the time, whatever you are calling him now.”

“Oh, fine choice.  He’s one of my finest junior officers.”

“That better not be true,” grumbled Mrs. Castille, “for Shalar’s sake and safety, if for no other reason.”

“Well, then,” muttered Xiar morosely, “I wish you luck in finding fifteen Tellerons who are actually smarter and braver than Studpopper.  Taken as a whole, they are a pretty sorry lot.”

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December 2, 2016 · 12:48 pm

Lizard Politicians

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This scary-faced man is the nutball known as David Icke.  My essay today is not about him, but about his amazing conspiracy theory that puts to rest once and for all the notion that intelligent life exists on the planet Earth.  His theory clearly shows that the correct answer to the notion is, “No, there is absolutely no intelligent life on the planet Earth.”

Seriously… this man believes there is a race of reptilian aliens living in the center of the planet Earth which is apparently hollow.  But not content to live in the center of the Earth and kidnap people to eat, they morph into human form and replace world leaders and important humans with cold-blooded reptilian aliens.  Queen Elizabeth of England is one.  Both Presidents Bush are also aliens.  He offers as proof that sometimes they begin to let their disguises drop and photos have been taken that reveal the true nature of these disguised individuals.  Particularly if they are photographed or videoed poorly.

Or, you know, maybe the photos were altered slightly to bring out the change.

And you know that this theory must be true.  David Icke has all those years as a soccer commentator to back up the validity of his analysis.

Anyway… I believe he is right.  At least, metaphorically speaking.  Many of the bad guys that keep winning  against the odds and the interests of the American people are obviously cold-blooded lizards underneath.  Especially Republicans.

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Notice the simpering lizard grin.  The self-satisfied smile of a blood-drinker who has recently slaked his thirst on the blood of other immigrants.  He is elected by a State that is is largely made up of Hispanic immigrants, yet his idea of immigration reform centers around deportation and cruelty to people who nominally share the same cultural background as he does.  He loves to eat machine-gun bacon, cooked on the hot barrel of an assault weapon that it is his sacred second-amendment right to own and to open carry.  He is ever ready to stand his ground and shoot down anyone whom he might perceive as a threat, including, no doubt food-stamp-fed grandmothers and their children… or rather “Abuelas y nietos”.  It is not hard to believe in his cold-bloodedness.  And since he is obviously the darling of the Koch Brothers and other scions of the greedy right, it is easy to believe that he eats little children for breakfast.  Or at least wants to take public assistance  monies away from them to give it out in tax breaks to the wealthy corporate elites.tea-party-idiots-ryan

Senator Tedhkruzh

Senator Tedhkruzh, the lizard-man from the doomed planet Galtorr Prime.

These lizard politicians have sympathy for no one but the wealthy and the powerful, most of which are also presumably lizard people.  And now that the Trumpasaurus Rex has taken over the White House, the lizard people are going to feast, stripping the bones of the poor and the helpless, along with the ground meat from the withering middle class.

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Does all of this nonsense about lizards scare you?  If it doesn’t, it probably should.  But none of it is my fault.  If you have to blame someone… it’s David Icke’s conspiracy theory.

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November 29, 2016 · 3:38 pm

Stardusters… Canto 23

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Canto Twenty-Three – On the Terrible Surface Amidst the Ruined Palaces

The tadpoles had been totally on edge for half an Earther hour by the time they reached the bio-dome that Sizzahl had guided them towards.  Only Tanith and Davalon had been trusted enough to carry skortch rays, and Tanith had nearly disintegrated the grav-cart by which they were moving the precious plants merely because she heard a loud, un-explained sound from the near distance.

But the door to the bio-dome was in sight.  It appeared that they were going to make it without seeing, hearing, smelling, or even suspecting the presence of those nasty, horrible scabbies that Sizzahl had warned them about.

“What is that sound that sounds like claws clicking on concrete?” said Brekka through her helmet.  “It sounds real close!”

Tanith whirled around and skortched a stone gargoyle drain-spout.

“Not there!” cried George Jetson, “It is behind us and coming fast!”

The dinosaur-like creature the scabby was riding disappeared in a fog of disintegrating atoms as Tanith whirled and fired.  The scabby landed on Tanith and drove her down into the rubble at their feet.  Davalon immediately launched himself onto the crazed lizard-man’s back, grabbed him around the throat and rolled him headfirst to the ground.  As it was momentarily stunned, Davalon lifted Tanith and carried her towards the rest of the group.

“Look out!” cried Brekka.  “There’s another one!”

The second was not a lizard-man, scabby or otherwise.  It was some kind of mechanical man made of corroded and discolored metal.  It had blades instead of hands, and it leaped on the prostrate lizard man, cutting, filleting, and murdering the scabby.

“It’s rescuing us!” cried Menolly in surprise.

“It’s going to kill you as soon as it is done with that scabby!” said Sizzahl from the shadowy doorway.  “Come inside as quickly as you can and strip off every stitch of your clothes!”

Davalon was surprised, but never-the-less took action.  He pushed Tanith to lead the way to the voice in the shadows.  Then he forced Brekka, Menolly, and George into the shadows after her.

“Please, Dav, come with us,” said Gracie Morrell pulling on Davalon’s sleeve.  Alden took hold of the other sleeve.

“Mother, I need to make sure that thing doesn’t catch up to you.”

“You may not sacrifice yourself to save us,” said Grace.  “You may not!”

“You do not have permission,” said Alden.

“If you don’t come with us now,” said Gracie, “then we all stay and die together.”

“Um, Gracie…” said Alden nervously.

Davalon looked at the monster as its metal claws finished ripping the heart out of the lizard man’s lifeless corpse.  Its metal visual sensors focused on the three of them.  “Okay… let’s go fast!”

*****

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November 24, 2016 · 4:46 pm

Lie la Lie

I suppose it is ironic that on Thanksgiving Day I am posting about lies.  After all, I really am thankful for the lies in some very specific ways.  Paul Simon’s song is the reason for the odd title and underscores the feeling I am trying to explain;

Yes, I am grateful that most of what the orange-faced man has said on the campaign trail has turned out to be lies.  I thank the Lord that the great ball of cantaloupe-colored mouth-flatulence has indicated he might not actually pull out of the Paris Accords on climate change.  That little item being a lie may save our entire planet and all life on Earth.  I thank the Lord that the orangutan president has had second thoughts about prosecuting Hillary Clinton for crimes she didn’t actually commit.

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I thank the Lord that the goal of repealing Obamacare is just a lie.  My diabetes is grateful too.  King Donald, seen in the photo above pitching snake oil and bananas to an innocent member of the American public, has strongly indicated he will keep all the good parts of Obamacare… and will basically just change the name to Trumpacare.  Of course, he will be preserving high premiums and profits for the insurance industry as well.

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I have a strong suspicion the wall is just a lie as well.  In fact, the nature of President Cinnamon Hitler is such that if he is trying to keep alien secrets about Area 51 with the same talent for keeping secrets he displayed on the bus video and in his formation of a cabinet in his administrative transition, we may soon know the complete truth about Roswell.

But I’m sure you realize by now that all this is in the manner of lies and jests.  In reality I am Paul Simon’s boxer;

Yes, I am beaten down by life.  I have been lied to.  I have been tricked.  And if I only could, I would give that monkey such a punch!  But we are all the boxer, all scarred.  And we all together vastly outnumber the monkey’s minions.  I may not live to see it, but it will always be a possibility, for as long as the fighter still remains.  And I am thankful for that.

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November 22, 2016 · 2:41 pm

Stardusters… Canto 22

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Canto Twenty-Two – In Golden Wing One, Fighting for Life

It first appeared over the horizon and the orange-brown clouds of the atmosphere as a sort of bright star-thingy.  It was an enemy space ship.  Farbick couldn’t identify it any more than that.  It was shooting at him with very large slug-throwers, cannons as the Earthers called them.

“Why are they attacking?” asked Biznap of the fat Galtorrian.

“Since the last war started, every ship you meet is an enemy craft.  We won’t survive if we don’t shoot them first.”  Stabharh didn’t wait for the fat one to answer.  Farbick supposed it was because war was the little lizard’s area of expertise.

“Well, come on!” squealed the fat Galtorrian, “before they kill me!   Shoot them!  Shoot them now!”

“We’ll be all right,” said Farbick, rolling away from the cannon fire.

“We will not!  That’s a top of the line space ship from the Overlord’s private fleet.  They will kill us just because we’re here!”  The fat fool Bahbahr was so frightened he squeaked when he talked… like a frightened child who was about to soil his pants.

“Don’t worry,” soothed Starbright with her calming female voice, “Farbick knows how to do this better than any Telleron pilot I know.”

Suddenly the cannon shot that Farbick couldn’t dodge came directly at the view screen.

“Aagh!  We are dead!” screeched Bahbahr.

The shot, however, exploded a fair distance away against the ship’s energy field.

“How did you do that?” asked Stabharh in amazement, and possibly enviously.

“Higher tech level than our enemy,” said Biznap smugly.  “Your people don’t even know how to generate a force field, let alone breach one with projectiles.”

“All right!” cried the fat Galtorrian.  “Now shoot him down.”

“Can’t do that.  We don’t carry ship to ship weaponry,” said Farbick.  “Defense only… the explorer’s code.”

“What?” growled Stabharh, “he’ll go back to Senator Tedhkruhz and relay our location.”

“He most certainly will not!” cried Biznap.  The Commander reached over to the proper switch on his control panel and flipped the cloaking mechanism on.

They heard the electric buzz of the device and saw the tell-tale shimmer across the viewing screen.  Moments later the enemy space craft began to drift away in a confused spiral search pattern.

“Why did they leave like that?” asked the fat Galtorrian.

“They lost visual contact and had to give up,” said Farbick.  “They can’t track what they don’t see.”

“You can be invisible?” crooned Stabharh.

“Of course we can,” crowed Biznap proudly.

“You must teach us this!” said the little lizard warrior.

“Now, hold on, junior,” said Biznap, “We still have an agreement to work out.  Are we still prisoners?”

“Well,” said the fat one, stalling, “we must still decide that matter.”

“Open to negotiation?” asked Biznap.

“Yes,” said Bahbahr in an oily voice.  “Definitely looking forward to bargaining.”

“We need coordinates to land,” said Starbright.  “You still haven’t explained where we are going.”

“I wanted to go to my secret base on Gundahl, the second moon of Galtorr Prime,” said the fat one.  “The bad guys will not find us there.  And very few of our enemies still have any kind of flight or space travel capability.”

“Which is the second moon?” asked Farbick with the navigation program pulled up on his pilot’s main computer.

“Gundahl is the big irregular one.  Rekhpahree had a base there too before the war.  The chunk missing from the moon is the result of Senator Tedhkruhz blasting it from orbit.  Melted moon-bits rained down on Galtorr Prime for a ten-cycle after that.”

“Okay,” said Farbick, “I have the moon locked in to the computer, but where on the moon?”

“The entrance to my base,” said Bahbahr, “is under the Silica Falls near the Sea of Black Bones on that big hunk of stone.”

“I see it,” said Farbick.  “We will go there directly.  But tell me, why do the names on your home-world all sound like a horror movie set?”

“You might as well ask, why do Galtorrians hate each other with such passion?” said Stabharh.

“Or why do Galtorrians eat each other after they have slain Galtorrians in battle?” said Bahbahr.

“Yes,” said Farbick.  “I want to know that too.  Why do you people eat each other?”

“We wish to absorb the fighting spirit of the defeated warrior,” said Stabharh.

“Personally,” said Bahbahr, somewhat cattily, “I just like the taste.”

“Yes,” agreed Stabharh, “I do also.  Especially in savory blood sauce.”

“Savory blood sauce?” asked Starbright as if she were about to be ill.

“Yeah, you know,” said Bahbahr, “What the Earthers call ketchup in those Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello movies.”

*****

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November 15, 2016 · 3:41 pm

Stardusters… Canto 21

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Canto Twenty-One – In the Wreckage

The repaired anti-gravity coils were not one hundred per cent successful.  The station whirled to the surface of the planet in a flaming spiral that scattered red-hot sparks throughout the dirty brown clouds that made Galtorr’s atmosphere nearly solid.  The impact cracked the seal between the station and the space ship that had impaled it.  Smoke and toxic atmosphere rushed in.

“Ah!  The air stinks!” cried Menolly.

“The hostile environment suits!”  cried Tanith.  “Get them on!”

Everyone obeyed as quickly as they could peel themselves off the floor.  Alden and Gracie had trouble with the helmets since they were designed for beings with a head fin on their heads.  Brekka’s suit was almost too tight to put on.  She had to wriggle, pull, and squeal to get it on.  But when it was on and all she had to do was push a button to make it fit properly, she didn’t push it.  Davalon wasn’t exactly sure why, but he did notice her admiring the reflection of her shapely behind in a piece of interior chrome.

“What do we do now?” asked George Jetson.  He turned his helmeted eyes toward the intercom that had been their connection to Sizzahl.  “Sizzahl?  Are you still there?”

“Of course I am.  I’m not the one crashing through the atmosphere.  How many of you died?  Are the Earthers okay?”

“Is anybody dead?” George asked.  “Speak up if you’re dead!”

“We’re all okay,” said Tanith.  “I already counted all the survivors.  All seven of us made it into environment suits.”

“So, we’re all here.  What do we do next, Sizzahl?” Davalon asked the intercom.

“I need live plants.  Round up every live plant on the station and bring it to me.”

“Where do we find you?” asked George Jetson.

“Well, I need to have you tune your communicators into the intercom broadcast so I can talk to you and guide you.  This dome I am in is hidden well.  You will need to follow my directions very carefully to find me without guiding scabbies to my sanctuary.”

“Er…” said Menolly, “what are scabbies?  That doesn’t sound good.”

“There’s a movie called Night of the Living Dead, the Galtorrians’ favorite Earther movie, do you know it?”

“No.”  They were all quiet, but Davalon wondered what Alden was thinking.  He seemed to have heard of the movie.

“In the movie, dead people crawl out of their graves and eat the living people,” Sizzahl explained.  “That’s a little bit like the scabbies.  They are diseased, and they attack and eat anything they can get their rotten claws on.”

“Oh, no!”  Menolly fainted and her metallic helmet clunked against the floor of the station.

“Don’t worry.  If you can get here without being discovered by them, I am well protected here.  I am looking forward to having you here.  I’ve been alone for a very long time.”

“We are coming, Sizzahl,” said Tanith.  “Tell us how to tune our com units.”

As Sizzahl explained, Davalon looked at the plants the Galtorrian wanted.  They were rather browned and blighted.  He wasn’t sure they were really what Sizzahl wanted.  Still, gathering up the plants was not too much for her to ask.  After all, she had saved all of their lives.  By rights, Davalon and his crew of truants should all have died already for their mistakes.

*****

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