An Affable Alien's Allocution: PART 3 of 3 (Far out encounters of the curd kind)

Sleeping alien

The aliens looked sloppy and sluggish as they awoke from their deep sleeps. Some had crashed on my couch, some on my floor, others noticing that they could make a particular cranny warm with a turn of a dial decided to sleep in my oven. Some were even hanging by their feet from main lines of the sails. It looked ravishingly ghoulish with their jagged bodies, green eyes and flipper like appendages sluggishly moving over the floor. It was as if they were dying... in reverse, since their movements grew less slothful with the passing of time. As one particularly droopy one slid out of my bathtub I thought that it was as if death itself had staggered to the gates of hell after a hefty meal; loosing his desire to ride his horse he instead resolved that today he would crawl on his mission to conquer the world of the living (he had been crippled in his childhood as he did not listen to his mother when she told him not to run with scythes). Not uncoincidentally my ex-wife was on my yatch too, for reasons I will elucidate shortly. Her mere presence poisoned the already deadly atmosphere engendering a respirability fit for the likes of Shiva, the destroyer of worlds.

The night before the aliens did not ask if they could sleep on my yatch, they merely gave me a queer sensation (through my hippo-campus neural pathways) that they would, and marched on board. They demanded a bed time story (or rather made me feel that they did) and I obliged them. I had a wide selection of 4 out of 5 popishly erudite books at my disposal; I thought that that would be able to please even their staggering intellect, but oddly they would have none of any of the classics. Apparently humans are so badly and haphazardly evolved that the only decent novel we have been able to write is the "Twilight" series which is disliked by almost all human critics. (The world of literature has really been turned upside down) I also soon found out that instead of them wanting to be read to, they wanted to "read" the book directly out of my mind. I told them I didn't have it in there, (as I had never read "Twilight") but that my ex-wife had. "Why don't you go and abduct her!" I told them, which they gladly did. So yes, now she is on my yacht and rather disorientated, which doesn't bother me in the least, her disorientation that is.

However, we are forgetting the substance of the story, which is: what exactly are these silly aliens going to tell me about how to solve the world's problems? Well, for that you will have to wait for the fourth post in the trilogy. Apparently when it comes to everything that humans have evolved awry, counting is just another one of those things.

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