There is always the belief we are surrounded by real aliens and their parts
Ellen flew into the chair opposite Claire at The Bubble Head coffee shop and launched into her unadulterated version of events.
“Last night at the Tri-lateral Space Aliens meeting the leader, Enus Masterbait, had a vision. There is a giant HANGING PENIS in Back Passage Forest!” Ellen paused and gaped open-mouthed and wide-eyed at Claire, who paused as well, in sort of a dumfounded, white-knuckled way.
“Enus says we should all go see! I mean, why would the ascended masters leave it there? What are we supposed to do with it? Maybe they will send transmissions from Venus through it! Everyone wants to have sex with the thing, I mean, imagine having sex with an actual alien penis!” continued Ellen breathlessly, gesturing wildly with her hands.
“Is Enus, uhm . . .” started Claire, not knowing how to ask if the beloved leader of the Tri-Lateral Space Alien group preferred male Aliens.
“Enus says I am from the Galaxy Sirius, and that I’m probably an Elven because I like the forests. So it’s exciting that the giant penis is in the woods,” continued Ellen. She was completely caught up in her story and not tuning in to the fact that Claire was still confused and confounded.
Claire decided to take a different route with her friend’s newfound lineage. “Are famous people aliens?” inquired Claire
Ellen snorted, and sipped her friend’s latte.
“Obama’s an alien. He’s had his brain replaced with a computer; the old brain is in a jar at The Hairy Lemon pub in West London. The Brit’s love it—they call it ‘The American Way.’ There are pictures of the brain removal procedure, it’s called a “Briefing,” said Ellen. She helped herself to bits of Claire’s chocolate croissant.
“Is Obama a gay alien?” ventured Claire.
“Dung beetles are aliens,” Ellen offered, completely ignoring Claire’s question. “That’s not balls of crap they are pushing around, it’s transmitters for communicating with their planet. I’ll never look at shit the same again.”
“Are Dung Beetles gay?” asked Claire, totally lost.
“I think there are Dung Beetles in the Back Passage Forest. I have to be sure they don’t get to the giant penis. We have to protect the penis,” said Ellen. She slammed down the latte.
“Dung Beetles like penis’?” wondered Claire to herself, staring at a potted plant in the window. “I just can’t do this, Ellen. An alien penis hanging in the woods so that the pervert leader can get you all naked with the Dung Beetles. It’s too much! I’m a cheerleader for goodness sake! So are you!” Claire gathered her things and stood.
Ellen paused, glared knowingly at her friend, and then delivered the matzo ball.
“Aliens grow massive amounts of pot on Mars and give it to anyone who will let them conduct experiments on them.”
Claire sank back into her seat. Her toes began to slowly curl under and her eyes glazed over as she watched a Dung Beetle slowly inch its way from the dirt in the potted plant. “I’m in,” she whispered.
For more on aliens and space http://www.readbroad.com/3343/poundstone-on-french-neo-nazi-breivik-i-dont-have-any-of-his-albums