Canto Eighteen – On an Over-Large Fireball Falling Out of Orbit
The orbital station was really no longer able to be classified as orbital. Flames licked up all around the perimeter of the vehicle, and looking out any porthole or window let you see instantly that they were all minutes away from burning up.
“What is the next step, Sizzahl?” asked Davalon with a hint of panic in his voice.
“You have the two coils in place? One inside the other?”
“Yes.”
“Turn it on. The coils should then spiral in opposite directions. That is what will provide the antigravity field, the inner and outer coils pulsing with opposing electro-magnetic energies. It should begin almost immediately to interact with the planet’s magnetic field and slow you to a stop.”
Davalon nodded to George Jetson, and the somewhat cocky Telleron boy instantly flipped the power switch. The light show that started made a prickly sensation run up and down the spines of everyone on board.
“It’s working. I think you have saved us, Sizzahl.”
“To be honest, I didn’t do it to save you. I really needed the plants on board that station. And I was really lucky that you had Earthers on your ship when you crashed. I need some of their genes, too.”
“You didn’t mean to save us?” asked Davalon. “So… are you going to eat us after all?”
“I would if I were anyone else from Galtorr Prime. We are a carnivorous race, you know. But you lucked out. I am probably the only vegetarian Galtorrian in existence… even before the wars wiped out ninety per cent of the population.”
“Are there other Galtorrians with you?” asked George Jetson nervously.
“No, I… I’m all alone here. I have been since the armies of Senator Tedhkruhz overran our facility and… and… killed my parents.”
“Sizzahl?” said Davalon. “Are you crying?”
“Yeah… I mean, no!” she sniffed loudly. “What makes you think that? Galtorrians are too mean to cry.”
“I know our intelligence reports on your planet suggest Galtorrians are much less sentimental than Tellerons, and Tellerons are so bad that they ate their own children until recently… when the Earthers taught us to love each other.”
“Tellerons are just too stupid to know better. Every intelligent species tries to preserve themselves, especially through family units.”
George and Davalon were the only tadpoles hearing this from Sizzahl. Davalon made a promise to himself that he would discuss it with Alden and Gracie Morrell later. Perhaps Galtorrians could become better people in the same way that Tellerons had through exposure to Earth humans.
“How did you get this technology?” asked George Jetson while studying the spiraling coils. This is tech level twelve at least. We thought Galtorr Prime was just like Earth, only at tech level nine.”
“Ha! That shows how uninformed you superior-minded idiots really are. Alien races from advanced worlds have been visiting and living on both Galtorr Prime and Earth for millennia. Probably even longer.”
“Alien races?” said Davalon, “like who?”
“You know about the Utopians, right?” said Sizzahl.
“The who?”
“The Utopians from the Zeta Reticuli systems. The Earthers call them the Grays.”
“That’s creepy,” said Davalon. “That double-star system is well within the borders of the Telleron Empire. How is it that we don’t know about what they are up to?”
“Are they a part of your so-called empire?”
“No.” admitted Davalon. “We have never really conquered any star-faring races who tried to resist us.”
“Yeah,” said George Jetson, “we are better at conquering little fuzzy critters and bug-people.”
“Are you referring to Kriitians?”
“Um, yeah. Why?” asked George.
“We have some of them here on Galtorr as well. I’ll bet the Utopians took a few of them to Earth as well. Much the same way that Galtorrians were established in underground bases on Earth.”
“How can all of this happen without Telleron knowledge of it?” asked Davalon.
“Simple. You guys are really pretty stupid.”
Sizzahl’s lack of respect and constant insults were beginning to grind at Davalon’s gizzard. Of course, Tellerons didn’t have gizzards… hopefully. That was just an Earth expression from some old western movies Davalon had seen. But it fit. His gizzard, whatever that truly was, was feeling very, very ground down.
*****
During my middle-school teaching years I also bought and read copies of The Prince and the Pauper, Roughing It, and Life on the Mississippi. I would later use a selection from Roughing It as part of a thematic unit on Mark Twain where I used Will Vinton’s glorious clay-mation movie, The Adventures of Mark Twain as a way to painlessly introduce my kids to the notion that Mark Twain was funny and complex and wise.
Doom is Imminent, It’s Time to Sing!
Yessir, the Cubs have a chance to win their first World Series since 1908 tonight. They have not won the title since Tinker to Evers to Chance was the double-play combo of poetic proportions. They have never won in my lifetime, and I am quite old. So, there is proof positive the world is about to end.
Yes, I can even describe the mechanics of the thing. Donald Trump will be elected President of the United States thanks to Mr. Comey’s timely reveal of more scandalous emails that he has not read and chuckled about yet. You know, the ones that he couldn’t have actually read yet because they come from potential pedophile Anthony Weiner’s computer, and he had to have a separate warrant from a judge to read anything that may have to do with Hillary, even though probably none of them contain nude pictures from Hillary, and she probably didn’t even write those emails. The world had to know about that right before the election, especially members of the Republican House Committee for examining Hillary’s every boo-boo. So, the Donald will win, because nobody is doing any press conferences on the FBI investigation on his ties to the Russian government through the biggest bank in Russia. ‘Taint important, Pogo.
And once the great orange pumpkin-head is our next president, our health care will no longer be under the misguided protection of Obamacare. Instead, it will will be taken care of by “something terrific” that will make high profits for somebody, and make certain that I will never be able to pay another medical bill (since those who are deceased rarely do).
And, of course, President Pompadoodle will be able to declare that we no longer have to believe in the climate change hoax. The result being that we will soon be able to buy beachfront property in Iowa and Missouri, be able to purchase our breathable air in factory-made brick-form, and possibly grow a helpful third eye from the mutating effects of nuclear radiation.
And, lastly, I would like to thank the late great Walt Kelly for illustrating today’s post. One wonders how a cartoonist can look so far ahead from the 1960’s to do such a fine job of illustrating the problems of 2016? Will miracles never cease? I mean, really, we could probably do with a few less of these industrial grade miracles made out of recycled elephant poop.
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Filed under angry rant, comic strips, commentary, conspiracy theory, feeling sorry for myself, goofy thoughts, humor, politics, satire
Tagged as Chicago Cubs, Donald Trump, doom, end of the world, Hillary Clinton, humor, politics, satire, Walt Kelly