When you've Nothing Sensible to Write, Write Rubbish it Helps Pass the TIme

This evening, just before leaving for work, I hold down the highly responsible post of toilet cleaner, at the out-patient centre, to prevent the normal humans realising my exalted alien fighting status, I experienced a spirit vision warning me of impending danger. Never one to ignore such valuable insights I immediately went to the secret room in the attic and borrowed my resident ET’s ray gun.

I couldn’t be more thankful that, by abandoning rational thought, neglecting my medications and removing my foil helmet, I was able to hear and choose to act on my spirit guides warning because no sooner had I reached my place of work than I was set upon by a marauding pack of invisible baboon faced dog-twats from the planetary system of Offamymeds.


Invisible they were yes but only to normal morals blessed not, as I am, with the all seeing super vision of the Hallucinartii. Armed with this, my superior vision, I spotted them as they swopped down toward me and immediately drew my megawhat blaster of extinction, which I had discreetly hidden in my pants, disguised as a mobile super absorbent man-pad, and opened fire thus upon them.

How they loudly screamed as my blaster destructed their semi - corporeal bodies of dnagalaxoslime with bursts of protoplasmic incandescence.

Each of my shots consigned another of those hell creatures to Hell where they did so belong to be. I knew if they got close enough then my very immoral soulfrag would be gravely at risk of being permanently endamnationed. Hastily I began embiggening the aperture of my weapon so that I could destroy more with each of my telling shots that I kept shooting at them. My strategy paid me off in handsome dividends of success as more after more of the monsters fell by my feet.

Flushed with my success I immediately rode my disguised

galactoturbocycle

to the tobacconist and cider shop, which is the secretly disguised headquarters of the Galactic Peace Overseers, to advise them of my successful fightings, so that they could make ready for my parade of congratulations. The confirmed, in the secret language of their race, they would do so:

“Take your effing cider and eff off outta here you effing looney” they said, as they always do when I inform them of another of my triumphs. So, taking my Omega Order medal of honour, cunningly disguised as a bottle of cider,

I did, knowing once more that once more right and justice had triumphed once more over the darkness forces of evil as we have done more than once before I did it this time.