Friday, January 18, 2008


This time it's kind of not out fault...

For weeks now, residents around Stephanville and Dublin, Texas have been seeing UFO’s, and the media has only laughed and put it on TV at the end of the hour, because they’re out of polar bear cub footage.

However, Friday morning, as the slow winter sun rises over Texas, the evidence will be undeniable. More people than ever before will see the UFOs—primarily because they’re all sleeping on the street and on dirt patches because they lost their homes overnight in the mortgage crisis.

As the alien ships land, it’s too beautiful for words. They didn’t chose Texas because they needed the space to land their vessels as everyone had speculated, but because the State of Texas brags so loud about how great they are, it’s audible from Space, and word of mouth got ‘round the aliens.

As the crafts touch ground, an infinite halo seems to embrace them, and a harmony that can only be described as angelic, or even Beach Boy-esque, gently envelopes the spacecrafts and crowd of homeless Texans that has gathered.
The head alien, kindly approaches the Texans bearing gifts of mouth waterin’ smoked meats from various foreign galaxies, a 6 pack of beer, and weed. His first words are a little hack, but very important just the same, “People of Texas, I mean y’all no harm.” BOOM! The Texans shoot him. Another alien just like him, carrying the same smoked alien meat, beer, and weed gestates from his slimy corps. “I bring Peace…” BOOM! They shoot him, and so on for an hour.

The people of Texas really don’t mean any harm either, they just like to shoot things, and none of them have ever bagged anything from another planet before. Eventually the Texans let the aliens exit their ship, and they get along wonderfully. It’s a full on party. They all laugh, and joke, and the Texans show them that viral video of Tom Cruise that’s goin’ around. The aliens laugh their asses off and say they’ve never heard of him or his bullshit shit church, but they agree, he sure is shit-ass crazy.

The aliens and Texans eat meat, drink and smoke their hearts out. It’s a grand ol’ time. Even ol’ Willie comes down from Austin, and says “you aliens are all right.” Once Willie Nelson says you’re all right, the rest of Texas is on board, and the aliens have been accepted. Then comes that one line we’ve all been waiting for our whole lives, “Take me to your leader,” and no one knows what the fuck to say.

They already met Willie, and really there’s no one else from Texas in a leadership position that they want to claim as their leader. Anne Richards is pretty cool, but she ain’t in charge. Bush? Fuck that, he’s embarrassing to the state, the country, the globe, and the galaxy.

The Texans agree to take the aliens to South Carolina to meet the candidates, since one of them will be President, and in case they know Ron Paul.
Mike Huckabee may have been pandering to the remnants of the segregationist crowd when he said that South Carolinians don’t like to be told what to do by outsiders in regards to the Confederate flag, schools, and clothing styles, but he was right. South Carolinians don’t want a bunch of beltway nancies or carpetbagger, McMansion owners from the latest subdivisions tellin’ them what to do. So you can imagine the idea of an actual alien not going over very well.

The South Carolinians shoot them too, even during the message of peace. As if killing them wasn’t bad enough, it gets even more awkward when they send their Labrador retrievers to try to fetch the aliens during their rapid re-manifestation/gestation period. The poor dogs get all covered in goo and just don’t know what the hell’s goinin’ on.

Eventually, the aliens realize they are goin’ to have to bend time by about 100 years for a new idea to be accepted, so they do, and it works. Plus, all of the sudden the entire state starts supporting Barack Obama and admits they have queer kin. Obama throttles ahead in the polls by an in-surmountable lead. We always knew South Carolina was an important primary, we just never expected them to cozy up to a black man so much.

Since Obama hasn’t been elected, the aliens are fair and meet with the rest of the candidates. Hillary immediately annoys them, so they put her in a pod and send her to a planet that’s been pissing them off as a prank. Boy are those Nepfarks in for a doozey.

When Mitt Romney meets with the aliens, a bizarre chemical reaction sparks between the alien slime and the tub of pomade in his hair, and he catches fire. The aliens lurch forward to extinguish the flames, but the people of South Carolina calmly and silently shake their heads “no.” Romney burns to death.
The aliens agree to meet with Giulliani, but he was lynched days ago when he tried to cross the state line. Don’t act like that’s South Carolina’s fault. Weirdo had it comin’.
Huckabee schedules an appointment with the aliens, and then very calmly and coolly sits down with the alien Grand Pooba and eats him. Who the hell knows if it’s in his diet- Mike just got stressed and needed to eat. But the aliens are cool with it and just keep regenerating. It's like an all you can eat alien buffett for Huckabee.

Fred Thompson doesn’t know what the hell’s goin’ on, so he just keeps campaigning at a retirement home in Spartanburg.
Obama finally gets a guilty conscience and tells the aliens we already have a president. The entire region let’s out an audible sigh. Fuckin’ goody two-shoes. Why would you tell them we elected Bush? Now they’re goin’ to think we’re retarded… still. Oddly enough though, no one has heard from Bush since he got back from selling arms to the Saudis this week.

Turns out, after buying weapons from us, the Saudis use one of their own, and intentionally infected Bush with a genetically mutated version of the bubonic plague, which spreads even faster than the original, because during the stage where people normally thrash about in bed, they now get up, and bight people. That’s right, Bush is a Zombie! No one noticed for a couple of days. Everyone just thought he had missed his morning nap and got cranky.

The Whitehouse has tried to keep it quiet, but the virus has spread. All of DC is zombies by noon on Friday, and by now, Saturday morning it has spread South and West across most of the country. Fortunately, South Carolina has been saved from this all by the Appalachian Mountains. The zombies are classic zombies, and the can neither physically nor mentally find a way around the Mountains, so South Carolina and parts of North Carolina have been spared. No who’s so stupid for bein’ isolationists?
The aliens agree to help fumigate the Zombies, and they kill all of them. All of them except for four: 50 Cent, Wyclef Jean, Mary J. Blige, and Tyler Perry. All the steroids they consumed over the past year have made them stronger, younger looking zombies. Listen to 50’s last album and tell me I’m wrong.

Now if you think 50 got shot a lot as a person, you wouldn’t believe how bullet riddle his zombie body is. 50 , Mary J. Blige, and Tyler Perry climb, hike, and scale the Smokey Mountains in about half an hour. Wyclef’s a good guy, and a good zombie, so he kills himself. By 3:00 PM Saturday, the R&B Zombie gang is knocking on the door of the South Carolina Foothills.
The aliens are still hovering over Earth in their ships after the fumigation. When they look down, they see the three black super zombies headin’ into South Carolina. The aliens immediately recognize that the fear in South Carolina of three black super zombies is beyond comprehension. People shit their pants so much, now they technically pant their shit.
By 3:30, the aliens realize the fear of black super zombies in South Carolina is so great, that they perform a mercy killing on everyone left. It’s for the better-- you should have seen the looks on their faces. They had been through so much towards the end.

No all of America is people free. The mass of land is so relieved, that the dirt actually lets out a deep breath. That deep breath is actually a massive earth quake, upon which the globe eats itself, and by 3:47 PM EST, the world is over.

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