Jan 03 2013

Diary of An Alien, Day Three

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My ship was passing through on the way to Epsilon Eridani and stopped to refuel when we bumped into a radio satellite and crashed on this ridiculous mudball. Good news: I survived. Bad news, I’m going to be late for the Empress’ coronation and northern Europe will now never know what happens in the next episode of Downton Abbey. Had a copy of the Guide with me and looked the place up, without much luck. All it says is “Mostly harmless.”

Having spent the past two days getting my bearings, I am quite convinced that the creatures of this world are all insane. Besides being so amazingly primitive that they still think that cell phones are a pretty neat idea, most of the inhabitants seem to spend most of their time working at jobs they hate in order to buy things they don’t want to impress people they don’t like. Still, they have Thin Mints, so they can’t be all bad. I also have to remember that this is the planet that invented Starbucks and New York-style pizza, so it has that in its favor.

I’ve sent out a distress call, but who knows how long it will take to get to anyone (especially with that satellite out), and more importantly, how long until someone answers? So to pass the time and keep food in my belly I’m trying to blend in. It was fairly easy– like everywhere else in the galaxy, most people don’t want to be bothered by things being wrong and so just take my word for it when I flash an official-looking I.D. at them and act like I know what I’m doing. I’m now quite happily employed in a cubicle farm, where everyone assumes I was hired by someone else just before the holidays and nobody actually has any idea what I’m doing. By the end of the week I should have an apartment and a car as well.

So, it’s not so bad. I can get the sub-ether band and keep up with the galaxy, and there’s some nice scenery here, so that’s all right. But I’ve decided to keep a log of my time stranded here, mostly to help me keep my own sanity while I hang around these nutters. I imagine a lot of it will be “Zarquon’s Knobs, will you people get off your farping cellphones???” but you never know. Something good might come of all this.

Reporting From Earth,
Coosh Mezardwark

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