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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is a homage to Kurt Vonnegut, as it uses both fact and fiction along with history to transport you across time and the possibilities of humans origin. WARNING BAD LANGUAGE AND SOME BARE ASS CELEBRITIES ARE MENTIONED AND SHOWN. AND SO IT GOES...




Kilgore Trout was taken by the aliens again. The first time of he encountered them. He pondered taking his own life. Kilgore had been drunkenly singing: “LIFE IS A PIECE OF SHIT, IF YOU THINK OF IT.”

Kilgore parked in a Reyerson Nature preserve. He came to get away from the nonsense of technology and his failures. Nature gave him a sense of wonder, while trying to comprehend what life is all about. But it all seemed too much for him. A mighty oak wasn't going to save his ass, nor would he feel Jesus enter his soul and give him meaning. Things for him hit their lowest point. Like most humans, Kilgore turned to drugs at this point, the legal kind, good ole liquor. Kilgore's troubled booze filled mind was seeking peace. His brain found that nature was still beautiful, and it dreamed of one of his first girlfriend and their nature hikes. Kilgore then remembered and flashed backed that girlfriend had fucked him over too. Now he had to block that memory of the girlfriend betrayal of leaving him for a guitar player out of his head. Kilgore reached for another painkiller from the glove box of his pride joy, a 1997 mustang, that had made him feel young once.

As a failed pulp-fiction writer, he got steady work as a lowly computer operator at Uit associates, the premiere source for Benefits and Consulting for the fortune FIVE hundred. He had been doing reasonably well there until the day of the purges. However, Kilgore knew that the shit was going to hit the proverbial fan, even the day he was hired. Kilgore, thought that the company had always had some fatal flaws that would lead to its demise. The place had the stench of conceit, as if the leadership could never make a mistake and kept on buying and hiring as if there was a golden unicorn shitting out gold coins everyday in the parking lot. Kilgore knew that nobody was really going to listen to a grunt without an Ivy league degree, especially at Uit. Uit rhymes with screw it, which what a lot of the managers did and still collected a giant paycheck. For years, Kilgore watched a pretty boy be promoted to be his manager, and they mostly spent their days hiding in their office. Once in a blue moon, they would come out and make a pronouncement or chastise a worker then go back into their office. Their behavior was similar to a mole rat who scurries into his hole, when frightened. 

Kilgore always pondered how ancient man could create some great things, while his so-called managers/leaders couldn't screw in a light bulb. Kilgore's mind wondered if aliens had to be there to help the human race of nitwits build almost everything. Most everybody who became a manager in his life seemed to be a nitwit. Speaking of nitwits, Kilgore's favorite manager was Bob Zangboom, a classic nitwit. Bob was also clueless about computers or what his function as boss was. However, he left his workers in peace, while he stared at a blank computer screen. Studies have proven that humanity is basically based on the precepts of high-school. Therefore, Bob was promoted because he was tall and looked like a blonde, rugged Nazi poster for the Aryan race, also sadly like the Nazis, Bob stole things.

Bob had learned the wonders of the Internet from an ex-coke head, ex-booze hound, and unreformed gambler, Uit, hired as a computer operator. Uit should have been better at background checks, but the job applicant showed them all his certificates from Microsoft, so they shook the dice and lost. Bob, the clueless manager was an unknown risk taker, the fool who thought the odds were always with him. Therefore, he developed a habit called Internet gambling, sadly he did this from work computer. Like the cement foundation of pure Las Vegas logic, Bob lost money. All the money. However, it wasn't his money, but the money for his gambling jones came from Uit's petty cash. Kilgore watched as they pulled his favorite manager out of his office by his ear. Bob was terminated and went on to be a realtor in the age of foreclosure and people with houses worth less than they paid for it. 

A simple historical note on why your parent's house or grandparents is worth less than they paid for it: HOW THE BEST AND BRIGHTEST SCREWED UP THE WORLD ECONOMY WITH MATH. (Math is a good thing, except in the hands of evil people who create or make up numbers to screw the populace over.) (The genius bankers and wall-street geniuses invented something called a credit-default swap, which is a confusing mathematical formula that was supposed to spread out risk, but turned out to be a giant bomb to destroy the world economy. In a world run by greed, the bankers would give anyone a mortgage, even dead people, and then pass this bad debt along with some good debt into a financial package and sell it to another chump.

These debts were supposed to be insured, but the insurance company didn't have the money to cover the losses. BINGO, BANGO AN EXPLOSION THAT WE STILL FEEL TODAY, AND SO IT GOES...) Sometimes  the inventor is a woman who creates something bad: The woman genius who invented the credit-default swap is Blythe Masters who a degree in economics from Oxford. Blythe Masters works for J.P. Morgan Chase, which is known to be the Masters of the universe, but the aliens think that is the biggest joke ever.)This is a picture of Blythe and her boss Jamie Dimon. (They robbed the Tax-papers of America and got away with it. AND SO IT GOES....) If they had been of a darker shade than pale white, they might have been serving 20-30 in a federal penitentiary. THEY SHOULD BE KNOWN AS SCREW-UPS, BUT THEIR EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND LETS THEM BE CONSIDERED GENIUSES STILL. (You might say, "What the F#%#%3!) 


  Bob, Kilgore's manager was a screw up, but then again, so were a lot of people and companies. Some people known as screw-ups, destroy economies, countries and sometimes these very same people are still worshiped by nitwits. Listed below are some strange people that should have never to be worshiped for having great ideas.

Leaders like Hoover, who as President of the United states presided over the worst depression in the history of America, has an institute named after him and certain economists and tea-party nit-wits believe in following Hoovers nonsensical beliefs of: It is all poor people's fault and don't interfere with Big Business. This idiocy is still touted that helping people is a sin and let free-markets be free, even if their freedom of capitalism was the cause of the fleecing and starvation of the populace. Hoover looked like this and promised a chicken in every pot
















Most of the populace looked like this during the great depression of the 1930s.



























Chickens were not in every pot, but most likely you carried your pot looking for food. Hoover could help feed Europe after world war I, but he believed that Americans should pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. However, these Americans had no boots. Hoover is mainly known for changing the architecture of the American home and inventing the Tea-party. Homes of cardboard and boards were now becoming the norm, as the banks foreclosed on people since they wanted their money, even though most of the populace was dead broke. The new homes and TOWNS WERE KNOWN AS HOOVERVILLES. Now, President Hoover created a strange condition where at the moment both very poor white and black folks in the same sinking boat. If these two groups got along they would be called communist.

Herbert Hoover was not a compassionate man to his fellow citizen. He was basically a giant conceited ass hole, as during the depression he said and did the following things: 

President Herbert Hoover declared, "Nobody is actually starving. The hoboes are better fed than they have ever been." But in New York City in 1931, there were 20 known cases of starvation; in 1934, there were 110 deaths caused by hunger. There were so many accounts of people starving in New York that the West African nation of Cameroon sent $3.77 in relief.” Kilgore's father Fred Casper Trout lived during those wondrous Hoover Tea-party days, and he remembered that most of his food was limited to something called flour soup. For foodies, the recipe is flour, water, salt and pepper. Hoover, is also known for the President, who had his own Veterans tear-gas and burn down their homes/shanties: The bonus army, American world war I veterans wanted their bonus early, but Hoover always wanted a balanced budget, so he sent a General Douglas MacArthur, a pompous dick head of a man to rid him of these radical Americans who had fought in Europe. General Pompous MacArthur had some famous screw-ups, as after Pearl Harbor attack he would leave his airplanes lined up perfectly in the Philippines airfield, even though he was warned they were the next target of the Japanese. The Japanese were greatly appreciative, as they easily wiped out the planes and MacArthur later fled the island leaving his men behind. Most of his men hated him for his incompetence. You can sing a song about him. General MacArthur was known by his troops as dugout Doug.

The depression was worldwide, which led to one the biggest screwed-up evil Fucker in the 20thcentury: His name is Adolph Hitler. He looked like a deranged Charlie Chaplin, but fed on the innate hatred of people for the other ones. He started one of the worst wars in modern history, blaming the Jews for everything.



















He got the Christian Germans to kill the Jews, Poles, the Slavs, the French, the British, the American's, oodles of Russians and themselves for his crackpot ideas. It was Hoover's inept handling of the depression and actions which helped that son-of a bitch take office. The Germany people actually elected that asshole, since they were suffering through the worldwide depression and the debts of starting world war one. Even though most Germans were Christians they had no problem killing their fellow man. STILL IN THE YEAR OF 2014, THERE ARE NITWITS THAT THINK HITLER WAS A GREAT MAN. AND SO IT GOES. NOW BACK TO THE STORY OF THE SCREW UPS IN KILGORE TROUTS LIFE: Kilgore had predicted that the Uit was a major-league screw up of a company. As a company it hired to many people, spent too much money on buying up office buildings and hoping to have machines, yes, robots run the Data-center.

The flaw was if you are providing benefits for companies you need to have workers who need benefits and companies willing to pay their employees benefits. (Historically, companies have been fleeing paying workers benefits since the boom of China, and India where the workers are more subject to low wages, and any sort of form of benefits is frowned upon like leprosy. They also have developed a Republican/Tea-party chant sung. “NO UNIONS AND WORKERS BE DAMNED.”  Ironically, during Kilgore's Uit initial job interview heard this very believe from one of the fat, Mafia type managers. It was Tony Sarrentina, a giant Italian, who had gotten a foot ball scholarship to an Ivy league school, who said: “I am predicting a lights out data-center. What I mean is no people, no workers.” A stunned Kilgore wanted to say, but robots don't need a pension plan or benefits, so if everybody does this Uit goes out of business. Kilgore was smart to keep his mouth shut to get the job and wait until they perfected robots.) Kilgore then entered the world of the best and brightest. He found them to be strangely mean and backstabbing chimp/humans, which had been overrated in brain power. Each group at Uit didn't get along, but competed to prove who was most important. It was pure hell and a circle jerk of blame. Most of the geniuses pointed the fingers at the lesser humans, like Kilgore. AND SO IT GOES.

(Kilgore met the man who had helped create the robot hell he endured. The man who developed the software for this hardware had the most messy office in the world. It amazed Kilgore that the man could keep track of anything, as he had Christmas cards from 1985, newspapers and assorted papers piled up in pyramids in his office. You couldn't even see his desk. His name was Dan Caberoni, who at the time loved Uit. His love and cheer-leading fell apart the day of the purges, he like the robots he helped develop was told to leave the building and don' t let the door hit you in the ass. If Kilgore survived he would find out that Dan Caberoni no longer loved Uit, but sued them once Uit was sold off to a giant Insurance company at bargain-basement prices. Caberoni golden parachute was his Uit stock, and his lawsuit like the universe seems to expand until the big bang. This is a picture of Dan, who no longer can smile, as technology combined with human greed makes him one pissed-off man with the chimp gene we all have.) Kilgore used to think Dan Caberoni was a twin of Groucho Marx, without the great sense of humor. Caberoni had some of the meanest backstabbers in his unit, and they once tried to blame Kilgore for a problem with mainframes. Kilgore had to point out the fact that he didn't work that day, and so it goes...  BOOKSIEGROUCHODAN.jpg

  Kilgore had thought that Caberoni could have been a genius, but it could all been just bluster and big balls. Most genius is based on loneliness and screw-ups until the day you invent something the chimp/man really needs, like beer, the can opener, the hot-dog and penicillin. OH, yes pizza and ice cream are wonderful inventions, too. If Kilgore found Dan Caberoni resume, he would have noticed that he went to the University of Chicago, which is very expensive and known for housing geniuses and future leaders of big business. However, Kilgore would have pointed out that some of their geniuses were defective sick individuals who overrated their brilliance.

From wikipedia genuis gone bad section: '' Nathan Freudenthal Leopold, Jr.(November 19, 1904– August 29, 1971)[1]and Richard Albert Loeb(June 11, 1905– January 28, 1936), more commonly known as "Leopold and Loeb", were two wealthy University of Chicago students who kidnapped and murdered 14-year-old Robert "Bobby" Franks in 1924 in Chicago.[2]

The duo was motivated to murder Franks by their desire to commit a perfect crime. ''

Being rich these two geniuses avoided the death-penalty. If theses geniuses had been poor that most likely been given the infamous electric chair. AND SO IT GOES. In 1924, if you were black or any other brown type of shade, a crowd of white people could sentence you to death and not bother with a trial. These would turn the lynching into a party, even taking souvenirs. This is what a lynching looked like: Sadly, the white humans are smiling, as if they had just seen the greatest show in a circus. If you were Jewish or Catholic, a group of white sheeted guys and some women called the KKK who believed in their god, might burn a cross on your lawn or harm you.

The KKK sadly still exists.



















In this day and age, you would wonder why somebody didn't Lynch the Bankers for helping blowing up the economy or laundering dirty money. However, these Bankers are white and so-called geniuses. They are very safe in their offices except for the fact they may get a hang-nail, which would require a manicure. AND SO IT GOES. 

Speaking of geniuses, the ones at MIT somehow have never perfected the robot, and Uit now was in a cost-cutting frenzy, they had even fired the robots for using too much electricity, one new Dasd unit called a VTL (Virtual Tape Library system) replaced the robots. Kilgore had hoped-for sexy robots, like women made of wondrous new plastic and pliable CPUs that were always friendly. However, Uit's robots were metallic arms running on a track. Inside a box the robots, had a universal code reader like in a grocery store and would run up on down the track and put the cartridge into a tape drive. It would take the eject tape out and file it or spit it out to be filed. It killed many workers' jobs, but had made Kilgore and other humans a slave to the machine. Feeding in tapes and making sure the damn robot didn't get stuck on its tracks. Kilgore could only dream of a sexy robot.  

Most days he fed the robots their tapes and hoped-for better days. Kilgore still had to run around, but also problem solved issues with software and people's idiocy.  The robots at least did their job better than most people at Uit, who were conceited with Ivy league degrees, or worse yet humanoids known as ass-kissers and backstabbers that would knife you quick to get a promotion.  Both men and women at UIT could be strangely robotic in their goal of getting noticed.

These were the mean robots which could try to get you fired or at least keep you in your place. Uit, however, did one thing to make it famous: It invented the free lunch program to keep the best and brightest chained to their desks. There is no such thing as a free-lunch, as we know kids, especially now the company's balance sheet found that benefits for workers were out of vogue. It would be like a fashion house trying to sell Star Trek T-shirts or giant Bell-bottoms. The company went into a full panic mode that it wasn't making the big bucks, but carried giant debt for going on building sprees and years of hiring the best and the brightest for years. Bingo, Bango, they had to cut the fat from their staff. Kilgore was fat or listed as fat. The main survivors of the purge were the attractive, young ones, the others like Kilgore; the old, frumpy set were given their dead-man walking papers. 

Kilgore might have survived the dismissal, but at the same time he found out that his wife of over twenty-years had been playing hide the package with a UPS driver. Kilgore knew in the back of his brain that it would end badly. He had realized that his wife, Marianne was destined to be what her Mother had been: A party girl with a drinking problem and wandering eye and pussy for better guy then Kilgore. Kilgore was so busy at work. He hadn't noticed that his wife had set him up perfectly for a WWE take down of the financial kind. 

Kilgore, also became a nitwit, when he trusted his wife. He finally knew something was very wrong with his marriage when had looked at his bank account statement and found it gone. Thirty thousand dollars gone into the wife's greed hands, all that he scrimped and saved. Kilgore had two teenage daughters and one son, a dog and a mortgage. That thirty thousand was his safety money.

His wife disappeared into the vapors, but left his disgruntled kids with daddy. Daddies in this day age was not a parental guide, but more of an ATM machine. Fathers were now old fashioned and jobs for males hard to come by. With science making test tube babies and growing number of lesbians, men were no longer anything but relics. Working for large corporation and their mania for performance made Father's fatigued and useless. During, Kilgore's long working days and nights, he realized that it was wrong for him to have kids. He had no time to be a good father.

Yes, Uit motto was we want 110 percent from our associates, and families are supposed to be raised by nannies, hopefully cheap ones from Guatemala or the Philippines, so you don't demand a raise.  Family values was something that existed in the 1950s, but expired once the need for bigger houses and more electronic crap made it go the way of the dodos.  To make his life even worse than stealing his cash, Kilgore's wife turned the kids against him. This didn't take a genius plan, as it was very easy work, as teenagers hate their parents to begin with. Kilgore' wife just bribed the daughters with cash and booze and bought the son a drum set.

Kilgore's wife was clueless that Kilgore had been a drummer and didn't mind that. What he really hated was his daughters dressing like street walkers and getting tats. He also hated that they never were inspired by Women's liberation to become more involved in the world. Like wall-street during 2008 mayhem of greed, Kilgore's wife left him a debt bomb. The wife had piled him up with debt using his credit card as a weapon, and next forged his name on a college loan for the oldest daughter, Laurie. She next informed the kids not to cook or clean up for Daddy. They, his progeny had no problem screwing their daddy over. AND SO IT GOES. Sadly, Kilgore's only friend in the world was the dog, Barley. But like Kilgore, Barley was getting old and a tired, a happy creature whose time bucket would be kicked over and make Kilgore cry. Kilgore sat in his car a 1997 Ford Mustang. He had gotten a bottle of Jack Daniels from the glove box and decided that the booze, and the bottle painkillers should be enough to kill himself. He rationalized that he would only be missed by the dog. This would be true, since he was only one that fed or took the dog out, as all his kids were allergic to work or chores.

He decided to wait until the sun went down and then consume every pill until he kicked over his own time slop bucket. Kilgore was at the farthest end of the parking lot, and the ranger missed his beat-up old car when he made his last rounds. Ryerson's was the leftover riches of man whose estate was left to Lake County. It was set aside the million-dollar homes and was a reminder that the rich like their nature and had a leftover farm house as an ode to the good ole days of rich gentry surveying his land with glee.

Among the giant oaks and maples, the tall prairie grass, Kilgore was alone. The park ranger had left and locked the gate as he drove away. Slugging down another giant slurp of Jack, the sun going down, the air was cool; Kilgore decided it was time to walk around for the last time, to try to remember what life really meant. It had gotten dark as Kilgore entered the forest path.The forest at night was still with just the wind, and the faint howl of coyote was all that was left. A group of deer ran deeper into the forest as Kilgore stared on. In this area, the rich neighbors considered the deer like rodents who ruined their flowers and manicured lawns.

Walking across the field planning to go back to his car and swallowing all the painkillers and disappearing into the fog the average dead white guy. He would be forgotten, and Kilgore knew it. In the mid field, a bright beam light encased Kilgore. “What the fuck.” Kilgore stopped dead in his tracks. He first, he thought it was cops looking for Pot planters in the forest preserve. The energy of the light stopped Kilgore dead in his tracks. “What is that light?”

Kilgore mind said what the hell, this thing can't be any worse. Kilgore collapsed into a fetal position, and his mind went blank. Kilgore awoke thinking that he had killed himself and that the light had been heaven. As he looked around, he noticed that he was inside some sort of building or craft. Is this heaven or hell?

He looked around and saw them. Was this some weird practical joke? There were little men who had a grey skin and insect eyes, like those Hollywood versions of aliens.

One of those insect men walked up to Kilgore and without speaking somehow communicated to Kilgore:

  “Don't worry, we mean you no harm.” 

This caused one of the insect/ alien guys to laugh and turn around from his position in the ship to be pointing at his crew-mates, “Guys who sounds like one of their old movies from the 1950s. We mean you no harm, such a cliché.” Kilgore smiled hoping for the best. “Thanks, I hope you are done with all those anal probes?” The insect guy actually smiled and emitted something similar to a human laugh.

Next thing Kilgore knew was now there were five more insect/men creatures standing around him. They all came forward and outstretched their tiny skinny limbs, and their four finger hands grasped Kilgore hand and shook it.  Kilgore's mind was now read being read by the aliens so their replies didn't frighten him:

  “Yes, that was the old days, the 1950s, and we don't need anymore biological information, and sometime we just did it as a practical joke.” “Your people are very gullible, and we were bored.” “ How many times can you watch I Love Lucy, before you want to shoot yourself.”

This last line, cleared up Kilgore head that he didn't feel as depressed. Weirdly, the aliens started to laugh in union, not something described by any UFO abductee had reported before. Kilgore laughed but questioned this whole thing. Had his brain just had one those mental breakdowns, was this real? “I am here, for you Mr. Trout.

My name is Woolopa and my comrades are Yazoo, Finkel, Beazer, and Ops. You are not insane, but have chosen for us to explain our side of the UFO story.” “We are tired that we are being considered to be perverts, who do anal probes and all that other touchy feeling things that creep you humanoids out.” Kilgore could understand how people would misinterpret such actions.

“Well humans when they go to the doctor normally don't even get a handshake, so they are very skittish when being touched, unless they perform in porno movies.”

Woolopa then pointed his finger to the wall of the ship, and a light projected onto a wall next turned into a large image like a high-definition TV screen only more vivid with a clock icon on the bottom. “Kilgore, we are all related, as my species seeded your planet and having been here, monitoring the progress of you, the humans. We are cousins who we follow with hope and despair.” “We have helped and stood back and watched, how humans have a knack for what you would call Fucking up, and behaving like idiots repeating the same patterns of mistakes.”

Finkel, currently opened his slit and pronounced. “We left you clues all over the place and even now on your primitive box called TV; they show you the clues.”  Woolopa finger produced this image on the wall of the ship. Kilgore looked on and stated the obvious, “DAMN, THAT ANCIENT ALIEN SHOW WASN'T A LOAD OF CRAP.”  


The alien named Beazer, now pointed his finger and a picture came forth he announced with an Alien laugh, “BUT WE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS MOON! DON'T BLAME US!”BOOKSIEUFOBUTT(2).jpg











Everybody laughed and pointed at someone being famous for being amateur porn star and making a living having a giant ass. Kilgore laughed but wanted to cry. How could humanity sink to this? Money for nothing or money for showing your ass seemed incredible silly. “You know guys, this is unfair. Since if guy has a big ass, there is no money in it. One must be built like a donkey to make money as male slut.” The aliens chuckled and proceeded on with the educational show on the failures and foibles of humanity. Ops, the shortest alien now spoke: “Maybe, your people would have been farther along, except your obsession with staring at this woman's ass.” “We helped with the pyramids, and gave you electricity at the same time. AND YOU IDIOTS DEVOTE A WHOLE SHOW TO THIS DUMB FAMILY?” “Then it took thousand of years to come up with the same idea, and that inventor Edison had to use cocaine to keep his mind firing.” “ Sadly, without a fabled god listed on our devices, you left them to languish.” Kilgore noted this, "But I thought those were all myths. The Egyptians having power to build those pyramids was pure bullshit." Ops shook his head. “ Well Kilgore, isn't Jesus sort of a myth, as no one can truly confirm his miracles, only that he was alive and his followers started filling in the story when he was dead and gone.” “Sadly, nobody was writing down his stuff while he was walking around, they just filled in later what they thought he said.” “Remember we were there watching.” “It was strange days, when Jesus walked around. He was like a magician, especially when he turned water into wine.”  “The crowd really loved that one, and then the one when he fed that whole crowd with bread, and fishes were a masterpiece of magic.” Kilgore now as confused. “Were the miracles, miracles or were they magic tricks.”

Ops laughed. “Well, the water to wine was easy, just keep a dye pouch up your sleeve, the loaves and fishes were actually a better trick. He had to find a fisherman who wanted to unload all his about to spoil fish and a baker who was about to go out of business.

  "But, Jesus was a hell of a salesman, until that passover day. ”

  “We have what you would call a movie of that day, but it is sad to watch. The humans don't come off to well, killing poor Jesus and all those others.” “It seems you humans are a blood-thirsty bunch, especially if there is your religion involved.” Beazer now steps up.

  “Yes, human religion has been a bummer for many, but it is our fault. Whenever, the human saw, our craft or us when they got confused and thought we were gods or a sign of their gods.” “They even put us in the Bible, The Book of Ezekiel 1:4 to 1:21 
1:4 And I looked, and, behold, a whirlwind came out of the north, a great cloud, and a fire infolding itself, and a brightness was about it, and out of the midst thereof as the color of amber, out of the midst of the fire. 
1:5 Also out of the midst thereof came the likeness of four living creatures. And this was their appearance; they had the likeness of a man.

1:6 And every one had four faces, and every one had four wings.

1:7 And their feet were straight feet; and the sole of their feet was like the sole of a calf's foot: and they sparkled like the colour of burnished brass.
“It was strange, we first thought that it was just a problem with Egyptians, but then the Jews started making stuff about messages from god. '' Finkel now shout Beazer a dirty look, “Well ,remember Beazer it was you that played that practical joke on Moses by using are Laser to write in the stone the laws of good behavior. You can't blame him for thinking that it wasn't done by a god.” Beazer, the scapegoat of the aliens now had defend himself:

All I did was try to give them good values, and I didn't mention God, they added all that.”

“I just gave them five laws about decent behavior, since the humans' brain couldn't remember much more. The list was very simple: Honor your father and your mother. You shall not murder. You shall not commit adultery. You shall not steal. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. You shall not covet. ”

Ops now looked on and then pointed his finger toward the space crafts wall.

“Here that very day is recorded, as I always liked Beazer practical jokes.” The image appears of a bearded man, who remarkably does look like a cross between Mel Brook's body and Mel Gibbon's crazy eyes carrying a tablet, when he stubs his toe on a rock and drops the tablet on his foot, and it shatters. “SON OF A BITCH, OY VEY! OY VEY IST MIR” Beazer now starts making commentary, “Yes, that is Moses and watches what he does now.” Moses now motions to one of his servants, “Hey, Morrie get me another two stones and a chisel. Okay, Morrie now keep your mouth shut and start chiseling into the stone what I tell you. ” 

Kilgore laughs and remembered how every church in his old neighborhood would say bad things about the different churches, and the stories of the bible had been changed to meet the readers believes. Some of the Lutherans would say that the nuns were getting pregnant by the priests, and some Catholics would not associate with non-Catholics. Strangely, Kilgore ran into some fun-loving southern Baptists who listened to rock and roll and didn't seem to at all follow the precepts of their church. Religion seemed like a chaotic mess that in the end caused more problems then it solved. Before, Kilgore had lost his job, he had seen crazy Muslims fly passenger jets into the world trade center. He had been sitting at his desk when a manager ran in and put on the News on the giant screen. The jets smashed into the towers and the world March to the beat of killing each other for not being able to get along with their different version of god and themselves. 

That day he had hoped all the world had converted over to being agnostics. Maybe they would think twice before killing themselves and others in a name of god. Man's disturbed mental issues with pie in the sky theories meant that the aliens knew that they would inherit the planet earth without firing a shot. They just had to wait for the final big screw-up. Waiting is something the Aliens planned on.

 The aliens unlike movie aliens didn't hate anybody, nor did they plan on vaporizing anyone. Actually, they just wanted to talk and tell their stories, but after seeing earth's treatment of aliens, they decided they had to pick the right person. Therefore, Kilgore, the drunk lonely, suicidal man was their best choice. They were going to tell him why humanity was so F*&(& up. It was purely logically a story that could not be told down south in the America, but it was science and observations.

Sadly, it involved evolution and the bad genetic defects that make man violent. That chimp/ reptilian part of the brain that made humans jealous, angry and prone to killing or maiming his kin. The aliens had planned to base humanity on the bonobos which looked like a chimp but solved all its problems with sex and not violence. It was a close DNA race when Ops had mixed up the results of DNA test, so the humans can't get rid their chimp nature anymore than McDonalds can STOP selling hamburgers. Woolpa now pointed his finger, and another movie appeared. “We watched you humans come out of the trees, but we should have interceded once we realized our mistake and stop the chimp side from taking over and replaced with the Bonobo. It could have made the difference in stopping the river of blood that covers humanity. However, we know now that we will inherit this planet after you humans fuck up, and then we start all over again and get it right this time.”

Bonobos are female dominant, with females forming tight bonds against males through same-sex socio-sexual contact that is thought to limit aggression. In the wild, they have not been seen to cooperatively hunt, use tools, or exhibit lethal aggression.

The Chimpanzee

Chimpanzees are male dominant, with intense aggression between different groups that can be lethal. Chimpanzees use tools, cooperatively hunt monkeys, and will even eat the infants of other chimpanzee groups. Most humans will kill and sometime eat anything, including monkey brains so this offensive diet or violence seems to prove that Darwin was right, but couldn't get elected in the southern states of America.


Kilgore was intrigued by the thoughts of sex solving all the world's problem, but then he remembered his failed marriage and needed something other than hiding his salami to make his feel better. “Hey, guys this talk is giving me the blues. I always hated Mondays. Can't you give me something up lifting and something to live for.” Kilgore now mulled it over. Nothing is getting better except rare times of peace. JUST INSANITY, DOING THE SAME OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND EXPECTING A DIFFERENT RESULT. 

The aliens now had been stumped. Could they prove that humanity had any redeemable qualities? The aliens now spoke quickly in their language and pointed to each other than started nodding their heads. Beazer now spoke:

“Well we like some of your music and some of your human art. These are not in vogue with humans, but we can play you are favorites. We can download to your brain like Youtube. Like Youtube, you can keep them all for free.”

“Our taste buds love your invention of Pizza, and we found that beer makes you happy, but later you might regret it, as it can make you fat and for some your female species end up breeding with men whom they don't even like and creating your clones.” BUT WAIT!, WE REALLY LIKE THE WATCHING THE MARX BROTHERS' MOVIES, ESPECIALLY GROUCHO. Now Beazer, slapped on a mustache and hunched over with a cigar and started a perfect voice match of Groucho.

“A man's only as old as the woman he feels.”

“I was married by a judge I should have asked for a jury I never forget a face, but in your case I'll be glad to make an exception “

“I made a killing on Wall Street a few years ago I shot my broker “

“Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it, misdiagnosing it and then misapplying the wrong remedies “

“You've got the brain of a four-year-old boy, and I'll bet he was glad to get rid of it.”

Kilgore laughed and found this was best moment in his lousy little life. The aliens were friendly and didn't stick anything up his ass, so he was grateful that his encounter was not all about the human fear that guides one into the dark side. Time was bleeding out and for humans, their God was their cell-phone, which ate their time up or told them the time. Kilgore had been with aliens now in human time for one whole night. The ship was hovering in perfect precision over the fields of Ryerson. It would be beaming Kilgore down before the park ranger came back to open the gate. The aliens now brought out a spread of food on trays, slices of pizza with meat and vegetables and tiny glasses of beer, bearing the name of the German town Dresden. “Let us have a meal before you go, Kilgore and give you gifts." 

The pizza was from a recipe from Naples, and it was perfect. The Beer was delightful, but not enough to get drunk on. 

Kilgore now had questions flooding his brain, but his human mind was overwhelmed. Finally, he got the biggest question out. 

“What planet are you guys from?” All the aliens smirked and said in union, “Tralfamadore.'' then they all laughed, “just kidding, but we read alot Kurt Vonnegut books in our doctor's office.” “He is a great writer, but is sorely neglected at present in your world of banality and bimbos showing their asses.” 

The aliens currently looked at each, then said, “Okay, we told this to two lovely people years ago, Barney and Betty Hill, we are from a planet called: Zeta Reticuli Scooby. 

“We are not going to hand out any more maps, since we have seen how humans behave on vacation, and we would like to keep our planet nice and clean. We certainly don't want any of your teenagers drinking and throwing up all over our planet. Nor, do wish to be visited by Anthony Bourdain since he is a mooch for a living, and we would only invite people we like. Kilgore, you are invited anytime, but sorry no kids. Pets are allowed, but no snakes.” 

“Thank you guys, I was going to kill myself, but now I feel much better.” “I think I have a hope that when you inherit the place you can fix up and make the whole thing work.” 

Kilgore mind was a whirling, and he had even forgotten about his cheating wife. His kids were images when they had been cute, but now that they were sullen, robots that lived attached to their cell-phone. Kilgore had them reserved to his brain that had the guilt section. He happily remembered the dog and knew he had to go home to let him out to take his dump and feed him. As Kilgore's brain processed this, his wife Marianne had moved her stuff out to her new place that Kilgore had unknowingly paid for. She had brand new deluxe apartment with security guard and already had the daughters over to sit by the pool. What her brain didn't think of as that her drinking and being a slut were going to cost her. Just as the aliens handed Kilgore his gifts, two wrapped packages, Kilgore's wife was in her boyfriend's pickup truck, tooling down the road sucking on his tool. They were both drunk and happy, and very stupid. 

Numbnuts, the boyfriend was getting a hell of blow-job, which made his driving highly erratic. FAST THEN SLOW, SLOW THEN FAST....just like the blow-job. Traffic in back of them was getting pissed, as numbnuts went into full OH! MODE. His chimp/brain didn't care about the honking or the road. His blank mind just said this is great, when he missed the curve. The pickup ran into a giant oak tree going fifty miles an hour. Both lovers were smashed into the trunk of the trees still stuck in the odd position of being blown while driving. Odd fact, Bonobos and humans are the only primates that enjoy oral sex. AND SO IT GOES. 

Kilgore couldn't have planned it better. A cheating wife and her boyfriend both were dead. Kilgore's luck changed. Kilgore's wife didn't realize that she should have changed the life insurance policy Kilgore had taken out on her. Kilgore's wife only cared about money, but in her drunkenness she forgot to have the policy changed. Bingo or Bango, Kilgore's cheating wife now dead, paid off. Fifty thousand dollars would come in handy. This still wasn't enough to clear Kilgore's debts as a wife and kids can suck up your money faster than a Hoover vacuum. 

Beazer now handed two wrapped packages like it was a Christmas present. “We what call aliens don't understand how Christmas is meant to give most spoiled kids gifts, but we give are gifts to the poor and depressed. So, we thought these gifts might make you feel better.” 

All the aliens now shouted: “Open them up now.” Kilgore unwrapped them like a kid on Christmas. One was box with two slots in it and a roll of what appeared to be slugs, lead coins. There were instructions in English. “Put a slug in this slot called A and wait ten seconds, for slug to come out slot B.” “Go ahead, Kilgore try it.” Beazer said with a joy of someone who has a brilliant secret. Kilgore put the lead slug in slot A. The device mad a whirling noise and slot B opened. This coin popped out:  







Finkel the quiet alien now spoke up:  

“We have this machine that makes lead into gold, but only use it for yourself. The coin also is meant to remind Americans that they are aliens and the gold rightly belongs to these people the American Indians. Sadly, you American's hate the browns, blacks, yellows and reds even though you started off as guests in this country. We figured since we can read your mind, we knew that you were heading for foreclosure, and the humans never will hire someone old, as they think, the elderly are worthless. Please, just don't become one of those rich assholes you see on the Bravo network.” 

Ironically, it was the alien's gift that solved all his money problems. The aliens knew that humans worshiped sparkling rocks of that yellow quality. They even saw one of the most genius strange men of humanity try and create it. Yes, Isaac Newton had tried to do it and failed. The aliens held onto their secret. Until now. 

“Now open the second gift.” The aliens clapped their hands in joy. Kilgore was stunned. He never got anything gifts this good before, his kid Christmas gifts had been underwear and socks. Kilgore unwrapped another small package and it was the size of cell-phone with one button, and it was labeled kindness.

“Just press the button.” The aliens shouted. Kilgore pressed the button. If the aliens had tricked him, it could be he would be vaporized back into the smallest particles of himself. 

Instead, a door opened in the space craft and out walked a most radiant creature he had ever seen. Kilgore mouth stuck wide open as she entered the room:


She looked like this: 7eb30bcb3a42d7a9689c28e5a4543220.jpg


Woolopa now spoke with a grace and kindness:

“Kilgore, we know that internet dating would be a bitch at your age, so we read your mind and designed you a lovely Robot,. Who has been programmed to love you and be kind. We know that this should work out for you and you both are happy for the rest of your time slot.”

“ Kilgore, we will meet you again if you wish and we can take you on some trips around the planet and discuss what comes next.”

“GOODBYE TO ALL AND THANK YOU SO MUCH. SEE AROUND THE UNIVERSE. ” Kilgore said this while his new partner grasped his hand with a warmth that he hadn't felt in years. Kilgore finally felt alive again, fully alive.

Kilgore and his robot partner left down the beam out the ship and into the parking lot to drive into the future.






Submitted: December 02, 2014

© Copyright 2021 wily geist. All rights reserved.

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