Thursday, January 20th, 2011

Space aliens! I was being chased by space aliens all night! And what did they want from me? Did they need me to complete an act of betrayal that would give them the entire world? Did they want to suck my soul out through my eyeballs? Did they want to make me their uranium-mining slave?

As it turned out, they wanted my shirt. To be perfectly factual, they wanted the shirt I was wearing, a soft, cotton twill that had been entrusted to my safekeeping by the spunky guerrilla resistance movement fighting to destroy the aliens, so I put it on and tried to run. Naturally that didn’t work, because I was dreaming. Can’t run in a dream. What was I thinking? Luckily for the resistance and for me, the aliens were piss-poor at catching one lone middle-aged man.

As is always the way with alien invasions, for reasons that make alien invasion movies hugely popular but make no sense at all. How does anyone think it’s possible for an alien race to grow brains so amazingly large they can develop technology powerful enough to cross the space between the stars, yet when they get here, usually for the purpose of either exterminating us like bugs or eating us like tasty, tasty piglets, they have to hunt us down one at a time and shoot us with laser guns that look very flashily cool but really aren’t much more sophisticated than shotguns? Okay, it’s a blaster, but it can miss. Big deal.

The aliens who wanted my shirt didn’t even have sparkly laser guns, but they could change shape to look like anybody, and they stuck to a strategy of backing me into a corner after lulling me into a false sense of security, then doing something that obviously gives themselves away, like licking their eyebrows with their lizard tongues, or blinking they eyelids sideways. Yet still they tried to talk me into just giving them the shirt, as if I still believed they were the person they looked like, giving me plenty of time to fish a good, old-fashioned Colt forty-five out of my pocket and shoot them point-blank in the face. That “talking to the victim like you’re still his friend after he realizes you’re a space alien” strategy never works.

Last I remember, I was fleeing across the Russian taiga with the space aliens in hot pursuit and an agreed-upon rendezvous date with the resistance six years hence. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Not Giving You Any Shirt! | 5:53 am CDT
Category: daily drivel | Tags:
4 Comments | Add a comment


  1. 1 The Seanster said at 8:09 pm on January 20th, 2011:

    Again: We need a dream disclaimer, prior to each post. ;)

  2. 2 Dave said at 8:46 pm on January 20th, 2011:

    You really had to be told I wasn’t being chased by space aliens?

  3. 3 B said at 6:38 am on January 21st, 2011:

    Sean, I think we can just assume most posts will be about weird dreams. Why not a reality disclaimer?

  4. 4 gary*j said at 12:09 pm on January 21st, 2011:

    Best alien invasion story ever written in my opinion: Arthur C Clarke _ Childhoods End. The best aliens ever to invade earth.