How To Save The World: An Alien Comedy

by Charles Fudgemuffin

  “Yeah, I know,” Jixyl acknowledged, “but I just thought it was better to keep Eric needy and desperate for when he starts his mission. Cos, like, if he gets loads of action while he’s still on Earth then he might not be quite so eager once he gets to Fem.”[40]

  “Yeah, fair point, I suppose,” Azleev agreed.

  “Either way though, I think we’ve definitely chosen the right man for the job,” Jixyl professed.

  “You’ve chosen,” Azleev corrected. “I was in favour of using that Doug Simonson dude.”

  “You have to admit, though,” Jixyl argued, “from what we’ve seen of Eric so far he seems a very suitable candidate.”

  “Ar yeah, I’ll admit I reckon he’ll do the job for us, like,” Azleev accepted.

  Just at that moment Eric returned looking quite deflated.

  “What’s up?” Jixyl inquired.

  “Ar, man! I’m a total chump,” Eric muttered.

  “What makes you say that?” Azleev asked.

  “Ar, rubbish,” Eric mumbled to himself.

  “What makes you think you’re a chump?” Azleev pressed.

  “Cos I always manage to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory,” Eric remarked.

  “What’s that mean?” Jixyl inquired.

  “Well, like, just that Annabel was up for getting it on with uz straight away so, like, your snidiness wouldn’t have been a problem,” Eric explained, “but then she started reckoning that I was a lying idiot so then she wasn’t up for it any more. Like, admittedly, in her defence I have to admit that she’s right. Like, I was a lying idiot. But still, though.” Eric shrugged his shoulders.

  “Ar well. Unlucky,” Jixyl consoled.

  “But I tell you the annoying thing…” Eric continued. “She’s full of patter as well! She offered to drop uz off in L.A. tomorrow but she’s not even going to L.A.! Total double standards, eh?”

  “Aye, what a hypocrite,” Jixyl agreed.

  “I know,” Eric affirmed. “Like, admittedly I told about six lies compared to her one and I just kept digging myself in deeper. But still, though. Like, she’s still in no position to judge me, like. Like, a judge couldn’t go out burgling one night and then the next day sentence a burglar for doing six burglaries and say, ‘Ar, but I only went out burgling once whereas you’ve been burgling six times so you’re worse than me, like.’ Cos clearly if he’s gone out burgling then how can he judge someone else for burgling, just cos they’ve done it more. She’s a pure hypocrite, man.”

  “Yeah, it’s a shame,” Azleev commented.

  “Anyway, your chicken platter’s still here if you still want it,” Jixyl remarked, nodding at Eric’s meal.

  “I’m not that hungry now,” Eric shrugged, dejectedly. “I’ll just nip to the toilet and then we might as well go.”

  As soon as Eric was out of earshot Azleev quickly began discussing the recent developments. “I didn’t like that ‘I always manage to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory’ comment, like,” he remarked. “That doesn’t sound too promising.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll turn out okay,” Jixyl assured. “I’ve got a good vibe about Eric.”

  “I prefer to deal in logic and common sense rather than vibes,” Azleev reasoned.

  “Look, we’ve got this far,” Jixyl commented, “and he trusts us, so I say we stick with Eric.” Jixyl looked at Azleev for a moment. He was still unconvinced. “Look, trust uz. That Doug Simonson dude would ask too many questions. We need someone who’s a bit of a chump and Eric fits the bill perfectly. Fair enough, you’re putting up the cash so you get the final say, but I still say we stick with Eric.”

  Azleev pondered on Jixyl’s words for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he agreed. “I’m just being nervous. That’s all.”

  “Don’t worry. Eric messing things up with Annabel was just a one-off failure,” Jixyl proclaimed. “He’s still the right man for the job. I’m sure of it.”

  But secretly, a part of Jixyl was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Azleev.

  Chapter Fourteen – Self-Defence Isn’t Snidey

  Since returning home from Las Vegas, Eric’s dejectedness had shifted its focus away from getting bombed out by Annabel and more towards the fact that the world was going to get destroyed by the snidey Femlings. Eric decided that, all things considered, the impending end of the world was possibly more of a downer than Annabel’s change of heart. And the fact that Jixyl and Azleev didn’t seem overly enthusiastic about the merits or achievability of his ‘just create loads of cures for all the Femling diseases’ plan only served to increase his dejectedness.

  A few days later, however, he received a text from Azleev which filled him with newfound optimism.

  ‘We’ve got a better plan,’ the text read. ‘On our way back to Earth to explain. E.T.A. - 2.56293847 hours.’

  The text filled Eric with excitement and curiosity. ‘What’s the new plan, then?’ he texted back.

  ‘Better that we explain in person,’ Azleev texted back, ‘but we need your help, so see you on the beach in 2.52548735 hours.’ Azleev was always very precise.

  Eric actually lived a twenty minute journey away from Whitley Bay Beach so he was tempted to text back and arrange a closer meeting point, but then again Monty lived right next to Whitley Bay Beach and Eric was buzzing with excitement and needed to discuss this new development with someone, so he stopped off at Monty’s.

  Monty could see straight away that Eric was excited about something. “What’re you looking so pleased about?” he asked.

  “They’ve come up with a new plan!” Eric revealed. “Jixyl and Azleev!”

  “Aye, I sort of figured that’s who you were on about,” Monty replied. “What is it, then?”

  “Ar, I dunno yet, like,” Eric explained. “They haven’t told uz yet, but I’m meeting them down the beach in a couple of hours so they can explain it to uz ... cos they reckon they need my help.”

  “They need your help? Ar, looks like Earth’s doomed then,” Monty joked, sarcastically. Actually, come to think of it he probably wasn’t joking. It was probably a true comment masquerading behind a jokey tone of voice.

  “Nar, like,” Eric refuted. “I’m canny responsible when I want to be. I know I act like a daft chump most of the time but secretly I’m, like, totally dependable and all that. If I was choosing someone to save the Earth I would probably pick me as well.”

  “Hmm...” Monty smirked, not looking totally convinced. “So anyway, what d’you reckon the plan will be, then?”

  “Mebbees they’ve invented a big Death Star,” Eric suggested, “to blow up the Femlings’ planet.”

  “Why would they need your help for that?” Monty inquired.

  “Maybe they need to consult me to think of a really cool name for it,” Eric suggested.

  “Yeah, it’s good to see you taking the future of the human race so seriously,” Monty replied. “I don’t know how I ever doubted that you were the right man for the job.”

  The two friends then spent the next couple of hours theorising on what the plan could be and how it could incorporate Eric’s help, without really hitting on an idea that seemed totally plausible. Finally, the time arrived for Eric to head down to the beach to meet Jixyl and Azleev.

  When he got there he had to wander up and down the beach several times before Jixyl and Azleev finally showed up, ten minutes late.

  “Where’ve you been?” Eric quizzed, looking at his watch to highlight their late arrival.

  “Ar, the traffic was a nightmare,” Jixyl joked.

  “In space?” Eric quizzed, not picking up on the joke. “I thought it was just loads of empty space. Hence the name ... space.”

  “He was joking,” Azleev clarified. “We just nipped to the shop to stock up on Toffee Crisps, cos you can’t get them on Fyra.”

  Eric nodded approvingly. “Aye, they’re a very under-rated chocolate bar, Toffee Crisps, like,” he acknowledged, accepting this
as a legitimate reason to postpone their Earth-saving discussions.

  “Anyway, d’you wanna hear our plan?” Jixyl prompted, getting to the point.

  “Aye, what is it, then?” Eric asked.

  “Well all that stuff about sitting about waiting for the Femlings to come up with a disease just seemed like the wrong approach to me,” Jixyl began. “The problem you see, was we were all looking at the situation from a defensive point of view … when the best strategy, as is most cases, is clearly to take the offensive point of view.”

  “I think you must have your G.O.T. set on American English,” Eric interjected, “cos in England we would say ‘attacking’ not ‘offensive’.” Jixyl and Azleev looked at each other slightly bemused. “Although actually, thinking about it … aye, you might possibly use ‘offensive’ to go with ‘defensive’ in that context.”

  “Here, man! Do you want to analyse the grammatical intricacies of G.O.T. or do you want to concentrate on saving mankind!?” Jixyl inquired, rhetorically. “Just cos it’s up to you, like, but I reckon saving mankind is slightly more important.”

  “Aye, soz,” Eric apologized.

  “Anyway, G.O.T. doesn’t have an American version,” Azleev explained, getting back to Eric’s point. “It just works off the way your brain thinks, so I reckon you must have used the word ‘offensive’ at some point, or at least definitely used it in that context at some stage, cos G.O.T. wouldn’t just make it up.”

  Jixyl turned to Azleev looking quite irate. “Here, man! I tell you what … I’ll just go off and live on an island somewhere while yous two banter on about G.O.T., right? And then in a couple of months’ time when you’ve finally finished wasting time, give uz a bell and I’ll come back and we can finally get down to the matter at hand...” He turned to face Eric. “...namely saving your planet from extinction. Okay?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” Azleev apologised, feeling like a naughty school kid.

  “Well that was him that time,” Eric pointed out, defensively.

  “I was just explaining...” Azleev started to protest.

  “Look, man!” Jixyl interrupted. “Will yous both shut up!? It doesn’t matter whose fault it was or how G.O.T. works. All that matters is saving the Earth. Right?”

  “Aye, soz,” Eric and Azleev replied in unison.

  “So what’s the plan, then?” Eric finally inquired.

  “Well ... like I was saying,” Jixyl replied, “sometimes attack is the best form of defence.”

  “Ar, aye. Definitely,” Eric agreed. “Just look at when Keegan was manager of Newcastle.” He noticed a confused look on Jixyl’s face. “Sorry. I’ll shut up. Carry on with what you were saying.”

  “So anyway,” Jixyl resumed, “rather than sitting about twiddling our thumbs for a couple of years while we wait for the Femlings to create a disease, and then waiting for some people to get infected so that we can analyse the disease and then try to create a cure for it, surely a better plan would be to attack the Femlings before they create the disease. Eliminate them before they eliminate you.”

  “So, like, build a big massive Death Star or something, like?” Eric suggested.

  Once again Jixyl and Azleev’s faces wore blank expressions. “What’s a Death Star?” Azleev finally asked.

  “It’s, like, a big powerful laser beam weapon that can destroy an entire planet,” Eric revealed. “It’s basically the perfect weapon ... apart from if you shoot a laser missile into one of its exhaust shafts it explodes.”

  Jixyl and Azleev both raised their eyebrows. “And do you know how to build one, like?” Jixyl inquired.

  “Ar, nar. It’s not a real weapon,” Eric explained. “It’s just out of a movie called Star Wars.”

  Jixyl and Azleev’s eyebrows lowered once again to their usual height. “Well d’you not reckon mebbees stick to real weapons rather than made-up weapons?” Jixyl suggested, sarcastically. “Just cos, like, made-up weapons aren’t gonna be much use against the Femlings. Like, I dunno about you but I reckon we’ve mebbees got more chance if we use real weapons.”

  “Ar, I know,” Eric agreed, “but I just thought you might be able to make one ... what with yous being technologically advanced and all that. Like, you can travel across the galaxy and stuff, and you’ve got G.O.T. on your phones, so I just thought mebbees yous could create a Death Star as well.”

  “Aye, we’ve got G.O.T. on our phones but that’s, like, not quite the same as being able to destroy an entire planet with a single laser beam weapon,” Jixyl pointed out.

  “Well I dunno, man,” Eric retorted, defensively. “I was just saying.”

  “Well nar, anyway, that’s not the plan,” Jixyl replied. “As good as it would be if we lived in a fantasy world, sadly we live in reality, so unfortunately a Death Star doesn’t come into the plan.”

  “Our plan is more along the lines of the Femlings’ plan,” Azleev revealed.

  Eric’s mind ticked over. “You mean, like, create a disease?” he asked.

  “Yep,” Azleev nodded.

  “To, like, kill the Femlings before they kill all humans and carrots and stuff?” Eric asked.

  Azleev nodded again.

  “Ar, excellent,” Eric exclaimed. “Aye, sound, then. And d’you reckon yous can definitely come up with this disease before the Femlings come up with theirs, do you?”

  “It’s ready now,” Jixyl revealed.

  “Flip!” Eric exclaimed. Since watching The Jerry Springer Show his emotions had been on a roller coaster journey, and although you would generally struggle to find a more optimistic person than Eric, his mood over the last few days had been justifiably negative by his own usually high standards. Now though, he was finally seeing signs for optimism. “Right, then. So just use the disease then, eh ... and, like, problem solved?”

  “Not quite,” Azleev replied. “We still need to implant the disease into the Femling population.”

  “So how d’you do that, then?” Eric inquired.

  “It’s transmitted by saliva,” Jixyl disclosed.

  “So, like, someone has to go round spitting on all the Femlings, do they?” Eric questioned, not quite grasping the concept.

  Jixyl chuckled at Eric’s miscomprehension. “It’s transmitted from saliva to saliva,” he clarified. “Not from saliva to skin.”

  “Ar, right.” Eric’s brain ticked over. “Ar ... right! You mean, like, snogging?”

  “Yeah, through kissing,” Jixyl confirmed.

  “Ar, so you have to snog all the Femlings to kill them all?” Eric queried.

  “We don’t need to snog all of them,” Azleev explained. “Just a small sample of the population. Cos then the infected Femlings will snog other Femlings and so on, and it’ll start a chain reaction until the vast majority of the planet is infected.”

  “We estimate that snogging twenty Femlings might be enough to get the wheels in motion,” Jixyl declared, “but fifty would be better ... and a hundred would be an almost guarantee.”

  “...based on the average lifestyle of the average Femling,” Azleev added.

  “Obviously some are a bit more monogamous than others,” Jixyl explained, “and some are a bit more free and easy than others, but based on the average Femling lifestyle those are the figures we predict.”

  “Right, so that sounds like a good plan,” Eric endorsed. “So when are you gonna do it?”

  “Unfortunately, there’s one catch,” Azleev cautioned. “The disease also kills Fyralings. The genetic part of ours and the Femlings’ DNA which responds to the virus is almost identical.”

  “Gutter,” Eric muttered. “So it’s a bit like my Death Star plan, then. Okay in fantasy but flawed in reality.”

  Jixyl got to the crunch. “Humans however...”

  Eric’s brain ticked over once again. “The disease doesn’t kill us?” he asked.

  “Exactly!” Azleev confirmed. “The part of your genetic structure which bypasses your response to the usually intoxicating effects of diquinteno
l, also plays a key part in your brain’s response, or lack thereof, to the effects of the virus ... effectively making you immune to it.”

  “Flip, that’s canny lucky, like,” Eric remarked. His brain then ticked over some more. Then a little bit more. Until finally he realised where the conversation was going.

  His whole body jumped at the enormity of what he suspected Jixyl and Azleev were going to say next.

  “Flip!” he exclaimed. “I think I know what you’re gonna say next!”

  “You remember we said the plan relied on your help?” Azleev recalled.

  “Flip! I’m right!” Eric realised. “I’m the one who has to snog all the aliens, aren’t I!?”

  “We can’t do it,” Jixyl shrugged. “The virus would kill us.”

  “Ar, fuck!” Eric exclaimed, as the details of the situation struck home. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He took a few moments to compose his thoughts. “Ar, fucking fuck! Ar, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

  “Is there a problem?” Azleev inquired.

  “It’s just... I dunno,” Eric shrugged. “It’s just a mad concept to get my head around.”

  “You seemed okay with helping when we sent you that text earlier on,” Jixyl reminded him.

  “Aye, but that was when I thought the plan would involve, like, a Death Star or something,” Eric replied. “I didn’t realise I was gonna have to snog loads of alien lasses.”

  “So obliterating an entire planet with a Death Star is okay, but snogging a few fit Femling lasses is out of order?” Jixyl queried, with a confused look on his face. “How’s that?”

  “It just seems a bit snidey. That’s all,” Eric explained. “It’s, like, a bit inconsiderate on their feelings.”

  “Well surely getting your entire planet blown up by a Death Star is inconsiderate on your feelings as well,” Jixyl reasoned.

  “Well, aye,” Eric admitted, “but I mean, like, normally when you snog a lass she assumes it’s because you find her physically attractive, but if she realised you were only snogging her as part of a plan to kill her entire species she’d probably feel a bit huffed.”

  “You don’t have to tell them,” Jixyl pointed out.