Explaining It To The Aliens – The Cosmic Connection Between Fossilized Sunshine And Anal Probing
I’ll never forget the first time I had to Explain It To The Aliens. It’s etched indelibly on my brain. It’s also carved fairly permanently on other parts of my anatomy, but we’ll come to that later. But at least I can confirm that beings from other worlds actually do walk among us, for all you conspiracy nuts out there.
Now, I’m not a redneck so The Aliens didn’t appear to me in the middle of nowhere as I was driving my pick-up truck down a deserted road. They just materialized in my bedroom one night, which was a bit embarrassing because I was “perusing” a copy of Fiesta Readers’ Wives magazine at the time.
The Aliens looked pretty much as you might think. Grey skin, big black almond shaped eyes and spindly as supermodels. There were three of them. Two of them just wore plain, long grey robes but the third one was dressed very differently. He looked like a cross between a Dentist and a Catholic Priest. Never a happy combination. He also had a shiny, metallic attaché case which he kept stroking rather too fondly for my liking. Nothing good ever comes out of a shiny metallic attaché case. Particularly not one whose owner is stroking it fondly.
I was hanging onto the hope that it might just be camera equipment. I was sort of right….
They didn’t say anything initially. Just stood there looking stern. I knew what they were. It was pretty obvious they weren’t Trick or Treaters in search of candy bars. So it was actually me that spoke first. It was all a bit surreal, and I assumed it was only a dream anyway, so I just blurted out the first thing that came into my head:
“What’s with all this anal probing business then?” I said. “Is that you lot or is that some of the others?”
And as it turned out, it was them who did the anal probing. This is how they explained it to me. Apparently, they had been visiting The Earth for many years, trying to make sense of the human race. They had tried everything and looked everywhere. Out of sheer desperation, they tried to find some sense from the human race in the one place they hadn’t looked. Up our arses. As good a place as any, I guess. And so anal probing was born.
They weren’t really there to answer my questions though. They wanted to ask a few questions of their own. I sincerely hoped I could give them satisfactory answers because I now had a fairly good idea what was in the Dentisty/Preisty one’s metal attaché case and why he was stroking in such a lurid, and quite frankly disturbing, manner.
The conversation went something like this:
“We want to ask you about fossilized sunshine” said the Dentisty/Priesty one, who was clearly the leader of the group.
I relaxed a little when he said that. I had thought for one horrible moment that he was going to ask me about religion. There’s no way I could have offered a satisfactory explanation for that and it would have been “speculum up the jacksy” at the double with no more questions asked.
Then I clenched up again because I realized I had no idea what the hell he meant by “fossilized sunshine”.
“What the hell do you mean by fossilized sunshine? I asked.
“You humans consume enormous amounts of energy,” said the leader. “And you get most of it by harvesting sunshine that fell on your planet millions of years ago. Oil and coal and gas and the like. Yet fresh sunshine falls on your planet twenty four hours a day. More than enough to service all of your needs if you bothered to collect it. Why is this?”
Ah, I thought. I think I can quite confidently answer this.
“Well,” I said, in a remarkably blasé fashion given the circumstances, “the technology is not quite there yet. We’re working on it though. And the infrastructure would be very difficult to set up.”
There, I thought. Pick the bones out of that. I was particularly proud of throwing the word “infrastructure” in there. I allowed myself a hint of a smile and clasped my hands behind my head in really rather cocky manner. My cockiness was short lived.
The alien leader eyed me with a sceptically arched eyebrow. At least, he would have done if he’d had any eyebrows. Which he didn’t.
“I think you’ll find you do have the technology. We should know, we gave it to your scientists over thirty years ago. As for the infrastructure, you just put the solar panels somewhere in a desert and collect the power at the other end. You don’t seem to have any trouble setting up infrastructure when you have one of these…wars you seem so partial to. One minute there’s an empty bit of desert and the next there’s a small city. You’re just not trying.”
Oh shit, I thought. He’s mentioned war. If he asks me to explain that one I’ll have to use an inflatable rubber ring for a week to have any chance of sitting down comfortably. Luckily, he glossed over the war thing and carried on in the direction he was already going.
“Harvesting ancient sunshine is messy and dangerous. It’s like eating pickled eggs when there are fresh eggs lying around all over the place. It makes no sense.”
At this point, one of the minions piped up.
“Nothing wrong with pickled eggs” he said. “Very piquante. Quite addictive”
The leader shot him an old fashioned look and said:
“And just how do you know that? We are not allowed to eat their food.”
“Er…I read it somewhere” said the minion. The leader was still stroking his metal attaché case and the minion was eyeing that case nervously. Very nervously indeed.
The leader didn’t pursue this point with his minion though, and the minion looked visibly relieved when once again the questioning was directed towards me.
“A great deal of this fossilized sunshine is used to power these automobiles of yours” said the leader.
“But”, he continued “your first automobiles used peanut oil as a fuel. A renewable resource. Why did you switch from peanut oil to what was, at the time, regarded as useless black gunk that inconveniently oozed out of the ground in certain places?”
“I like peanuts” said one of the minions. The other one this time. And he too was shot an old fashioned look. A slightly different old fashioned look though. Sort of like that “wait until I get you home” look that wives give their husbands when they’ve said something particularly fucking stupid in mixed company.
Maybe the leader was the minion’s wife, I thought. Or whatever the alien equivalent might be. I was thinking of them all as male, but I didn’t really have any sound basis for that assumption. I’m going to stick with “he” for the most of the rest of this story though. English not being a terribly friendly language for things like feminism and gender equality.
“So”, said the leader, once again turning his attention to me, “why the switch from peanuts to petroleum?”
“Erm..Peanut allergies?” I ventured.
“Peanut allergies?” he said. And this time it was me that was on the receiving end of an old fashioned look.
“Yes, peanut allergies. Burning all that peanut oil. People would be dropping dead from anaphylactic shock left right and centre, wouldn’t they?”
This did not placate him. In fact if anything it made him even angrier.
“People did not have peanut allergies back then” he said coldly. “They would not have them now either if you ate proper food and didn’t insist on disinfecting everything in your houses. You’re systematically disabling your immune systems.”
“We are?” I said.
“You are,” he said firmly. “If you carry on the way you’re going, you’ll suffer the same fate as the Martians. Haven’t you read War of the Worlds?”
“The War of the Worlds is just a story” I said, a little puzzled.
For the first time, the alien leader looked a bit flustered.
“Ahem…yes. Of course it is. That’s definitely what it is. Just a story” And he/she looked sideways at the alien that may or may not have been his/her spouse and gave a bit of a shrug and the other alien also did a similar sideways look and shrugged back.
“The only thing that is saving you is your primitive vaccination programmes”
And the other alien, the possible spouse one, turned to the leader and whispered something into where his ear should have been. I was sure I caught the phrase “anti-vaxxers”. A look of absolute shock and horror crossed his face. This quickly turns to a mask of rage.
“They’re…doing…fucking…what!” he gasped.
That was it. No more questions. The leader had gone from stroking his attaché case fondly to just outright fondling it. I spent the rest of the evening unable to move while The Aliens looked for any traces of sense I might have had about my person. As I suspected they would, they looked for that sense where the sun don’t shine. And I don’t mean Penrith.
The Aliens leave me alone nowadays. There’s no telling who they will visit next, though. So I recommend that you keep some haemorrhoid cream and a pre-inflated rubber ring available at all times. Just in case they ask you to explain anything to them. These items will come in very handy if they do. Trust me.
Copyright Michael Grimes 2016