How To Save The World: An Alien Comedy

by Charles Fudgemuffin

  “Well actually, you can’t tell them,” Azleev clarified, “cos that would sort of spoil the plan if you said, ‘Ar, by the way, I only snogged you to infect you with a killer virus as part of a plan to kill your entire species.’ It’s meant to be a covert operation. That’s sort of integral to the plan.”

  Eric still looked less than enthusiastic.

  “Look, I’m pretty sure you’d have an excellent time while you were there,” Jixyl pledged. “To help increase the planet-wide spread of the disease we were gonna suggest you base yourself at Ko Pagna. That’s, like, the most popular holiday island beach resort for attractive young backpackers on the planet Fem. That way the lasses you snog will be from all over the planet, which means the disease will be spread over the whole planet as quickly as possible.”

  “Flip! This is mad, this, like,” was all Eric could manage to say.

  “So what do you reckon, then?” Azleev asked, pressing for an answer.

  Eric let out a deep breath. “I dunno,” he shrugged. “Like I said, it just seems a bit snidey, you know.”

  “Look, the Femlings want to kill every single living organism on your planet, for no other reason than they reckon your quality of life isn’t high enough. That’s what I call snidey,” Jixyl declared.

  “...but you’d just be acting out of self-defence,” Azleev added.

  “Yeah, and self-defence isn’t snidey,” Jixyl argued. “Self-defence is totally commendable. If nice people just let snidey people kill them all the time then there’d be no nice people left. Just snidey people. So the nice people have to use self-defence to maintain the current amount of niceness in the galaxy.” Azleev nodded in agreement.

  “Yeah, I see what you’re saying,” Eric conceded. “It’s just that I didn’t realise I’d have to play such a hands on role in things. If I just had to, like, push a button, or sign a form or something, then I’d be totally okay with killing an entire species out of self-defence. But I’m gonna have to talk to them and stuff. And, like, once you get to know them as a people that’ll make it much harder to deal with being responsible for their death.”

  “I’m canny surprised that you’re reacting like this, like,” Jixyl remarked. “I got the impression you were selfish and carefree. I didn’t realise you had a compassionate side.”

  “Ar, I am selfish, like,” Eric acknowledged, “but only when it doesn’t hurt other people.”

  “You’ve got to stop seeing them as people and start looking at them as evil planetocidal maniacs,” Jixyl suggested. “That way you’ll find it easier to deal with.”

  “I tell you what it is,” Eric remarked. “It’s the fact that they’re gonna look exactly like humans that makes it so hard. If they had green scaly skin and claws and stuff then I reckon it’d probably be much easier to do it.”

  “So you’ve got a problem with snogging totally fit lasses, but you’d be okay with snogging green scaly skinned creatures?” Jixyl questioned.

  Eric chuckled at the realisation of what he had just said. “I take your point,” he conceded. “What I meant though was that in an ideal world I’d have to snog totally fit lasses to kill green scaly skinned aliens.”

  “In an ideal world the Femlings wouldn’t be planning to kill the human race,” Azleev pointed out, “but they are. Cos it’s not an ideal world. It’s not an ideal galaxy. It’s an overall pretty decent galaxy spoilt by evil gits like the Femlings.”

  “And you’ve got a chance to make it an even more decent galaxy,” Jixyl continued, “by getting rid of the Femlings.”

  “Or you can make it a worse galaxy by being an ostrich and sticking your head in the sand and pretending there isn’t a problem and just letting the human race get destroyed,” Azleev stated.

  “Ar, hey,” Eric remarked. He wasn’t a big fan of responsibility. Jixyl had got it right when he suggested that Eric was care-free, but that didn’t mean he was uncaring. “Is there no other plan?” he asked hopefully. “Like, surely all the Femlings can’t be snides. Like, surely some of them must be nice. So is there no way we can just kill all the snidey ones and let the nice ones live?”

  “That’s the stupid thing,” Azleev answered. “To talk to them some of them are the nicest people you’ll ever meet. It’s just that for whatever reason – maybe it’s built into their DNA or something – they think that they’re racially superior to all other species.”

  “Yeah, but surely it’s just the government that wants to kill the human race,” Eric purported. “We can’t really blame normal people for what their government wants to do.”

  “Fem is a democratic planet,” Azleev replied, “and at the last elections the current government won with a landslide ninety three percent of the vote.”

  “And the ‘Quality Of Life’ proposal was a key element of their manifesto,” Jixyl added.

  “Flip! Ninety three percent!” Eric repeated. “What a bunch of snides!”

  “And as a matter of interest the leading opposition party, which got six percent of the vote, also supported most of the key elements of the ‘Quality Of Life’ proposal,” Jixyl revealed.

  “Flip! The total snides!” Eric exclaimed. “I’m running out of arguments to defend them!”

  “And if you’re worried about the remaining one percent...” Jixyl continued, pressing his point home. “What are they doing to stop it? Nothing. They’re not campaigning. They’re not writing angry protest letters to the government. They’re just letting the government get on with it.”

  “And a spineless coward who just walks past and does nothing to help when he sees someone getting mugged is as guilty as the person doing the mugging,” Azleev proposed.

  Eric didn’t quite agree with this last point but he let it go. “I’m just scared,” he admitted.

  “That’s understandable,” Azleev acknowledged. “But what scares you most … every living thing on Earth being killed or snogging a few fit lasses?”

  “You see, you’re talking about snogging a few fit lasses as if it was a regular everyday occurrence, like tying my shoelaces or something,” Eric responded, “but it’s not. I reckon I only score about once every four months on average, so if you’re saying I ideally need to snog fifty lasses then that would take uz about…” Eric did some quick sums in his head. “…sixteen years and eight months. And the Femlings will have created their disease long before then.”

  “But you’ve got to remember that you’d be living on a beach resort and going out every night meeting far more lasses than you do in everyday life,” Jixyl reasoned. “And lasses have got a much more ‘up for it’ attitude when they’re in a holiday environment.”

  Eric had to admit that Jixyl had a point. He still wasn’t convinced, though. “You see though, I don’t even know a single thing about social etiquette and stuff on their planet,” he remarked. “Like, how long do you have to talk to a lass before you can make a move? And, like, can you score through dancing? You see. I haven’t got a clue.”

  “Don’t worry. You wouldn’t be dropped in straight at the deep end,” Azleev reassured Eric. “It’d probably be best if you spent a few days on our planet first, getting trained up on everything you need to know.”

  “But to answer your question, all lasses are different,” Jixyl commented, “but the general rules of pulling are pretty much the same on Fem as they are on Earth.”

  “So they’re not into spanking like on your planet, then?” Eric inquired.

  “Ar, yeah. They’re into spanking,” Jixyl revealed. “But other than that everything else is pretty much the same as it is on Earth.”

  “Ar, well, I mean I’m obviously tempted, like,” Eric quickly reassessed, before adding just as quickly, “I mean, I’m tempted to save the world … not the spanking stuff, obviously … just saving the world. I mean I would obviously get involved in a bit of spanking if it meant saving the world, like. But just to save the world ... not for anything else.”

  “Don’t worry. You wouldn’t have to do any spa
nking,” Azleev reassured Eric. “Like we said, the disease is spread by saliva.”

  Eric’s face dropped.

  “But that’s not to say that you couldn’t do a bit of spanking if you wanted to,” Jixyl quickly added. “I mean, not that you’d want to ... obviously. But just for the purposes of maintaining your cover, it might be best if you did a little bit of spanking ... just to fit in, you know.”

  “Yeah, I see what you mean,” Eric nodded, thoughtfully. “It might look suspicious if I didn’t do any spanking.”

  “Exactly!” Jixyl agreed. “So does that mean you’re gonna do it?”

  “Hmm,” Eric pondered. The last few minutes had given him a lot to take in and he therefore didn’t want to rush into anything. “And they’re definitely fit, these Femling lasses, are they?” he asked, before quickly adding, “Not that I’m bothered, like. Obviously saving the world is my only consideration. How fit the lasses are isn’t an issue.”

  “Good,” Azleev replied.

  Eric was expecting Azleev to elaborate but no elaboration was forthcoming. A few moments of silence therefore passed before Eric broke the silence. “But are they, though?” he pressed.

  “Are they what?” Jixyl replied, being deliberately awkward.

  “Fit?” Eric clarified. Not that any clarification was required. Jixyl knew exactly what Eric was asking. He just enjoyed being awkward.

  “I thought you said that wasn’t an issue,” Azleev mentioned.

  “Ar, yeah. It’s not,” Eric answered, before asking once again a few moments later, “but are they, though?”

  “I thought you said saving the world was your only consideration,” Azleev recalled.

  “Ar, yeah. It is,” Eric lied. “But just out of curiosity.”

  “Don’t worry. Femling lasses are totally fit,” Jixyl finally assured Eric. “To use your cream analogy from the other day … the cream of Earth is a match for the cream of Fem … but on Ko Pagna where you’ll be based you’ll find there’s a lot more cream.”

  “Well, I mean I obviously realise where my responsibilities lie, like,” Eric quickly concluded, his voice once again suddenly full of enthusiasm.

  “So does that mean you’re gonna do it, then?” Jixyl asked.

  “Well, I mean … it’s, like, still a lot to get my head round, you know,” Eric shrugged. He thought for a moment. “Like, do I need to decide right now, do I? Like, can I not have some time to think about it first?”

  “Look, we need to get started as soon as possible,” Jixyl pressed. “The Femlings aren’t gonna hang around so neither can we.”

  “I tell you what,” Azleev proposed. “How about you sleep on it? We can do some sight-seeing tonight and then we’ll come back tomorrow morning to see how you feel about it then.”

  “Aye, I suppose,” Eric agreed.

  “But we can’t hang about for long,” Jixyl warned. “And it’s a canny long trek back to Fyra so we can’t keep coming back to Earth either. Once we leave, that’s it. You have to be committed to the plan.”

  “Ar, yeah. I understand,” Eric acknowledged.

  “Have a think about it tonight,” Azleev advised. “But I think you know what you have to do.”

  Azleev was right. Eric knew what he had to do.

  He had to talk it over with his mates.

  Chapter Fifteen – Living The Dream

  Monty noticed straight away that Eric’s face wasn’t as excited and as optimistic as it had been before. Now Eric looked slightly worried. Even a little bit scared.

  “What’s up?” Monty asked. “Is the plan no good, is it?”

  “Or is it dangerous, like, is it?” Garth inquired. He had come round to Monty’s once he had heard about the new developments.

  “Nar, it’s not dangerous,” Eric answered. “I’m just not sure whether I want to go through with it or not.”

  “What’s the plan, like?” Monty quizzed.

  “I have to go and live on a sunny beach resort on the planet Fem for a few months and go out every night and snog loads of fit lasses,” Eric revealed.

  Monty and Garth chuckled. “Ar, of course! It seems so obvious now!” Monty joked, sarcastically. “I don’t know why we didn’t think of that earlier!”

  “Nar, seriously. What’s the plan?” Garth pressed.

  “Seriously! That’s the plan!” Eric insisted.

  “And how’s that gonna save the Earth?” Monty inquired.

  “Ar ... I forgot to mention that Jixyl and Azleev have come up with this disease which kills Femlings, but humans are immune to it. And it’s transmitted by saliva, so they’re gonna give me the virus and then when I hopefully snog loads of lasses that’s gonna implant it in the Femling population and hopefully set off a chain reaction of infection. And then hopefully they’ll all die before they get a chance to kill us.”

  Monty and Garth looked at each other with wide eyes as they took in Eric’s revelations. It took them a few moments to digest the information. It was Monty who eventually spoke first. “Eh! Fuck! So you’re not joking? You’re actually being serious? You do actually have to go and party it up in the sunshine and snog loads of fit lasses to save the Earth?”

  “Yeah,” Eric nodded.

  “So can I just ask one question?” Monty responded.

  “What?” Eric shrugged.

  “Are you absolutely mental!?” Monty exclaimed.

  “Nar, course not,” Eric replied. “What d’you mean?”

  “Usually when someone has to save the world it involves fighting a big, scary monster with big fangs and laser beams coming from its eyes. Or they have to fly through the dangerous depths of space in an ancient spaceship and take on a hundred alien spaceships ten times more powerful than theirs.” Monty paused for effect. “But you ... you have to party it up for a few months in the sun snogging loads of fit lasses ... and you’re not sure if you want to do it? You’re mental! You are! You’re completely mental!”

  “Eric, it’s like you’ve won the lottery but you’re not sure if you want to claim your winnings,” Garth added.

  “I know but it just feels a bit snidey. That’s all,” Eric explained. “It’s, like, I’m gonna be directly responsible for killing them all.”

  “Yeah, but they want to kill all us, don’t they?” Monty pointed out. “So tough shit on them! You live by the sword, you die by the sword.”

  “Aye, but only ninety nine percent of them support this ‘killing anyone with an inferior quality of life’ lark,” Eric revealed. “The other one percent are ambivalent.”

  “Eric, I know it sounds harsh,” Garth countered, “but it’s like Monty says … tough shit on the ambivalent one percent. Basically, I don’t want to die so if that means you have to kill an alien species which the vast majority of are evil, then you have to do it.”

  “Aye, I suppose you’re right,” Eric sighed.

  “And what you’ve got to remember,” Monty added, “is that you’ll be partying it up in the sunshine snogging loads of fit lasses! You’ll be living the dream! Living’s every man’s fantasy!”

  “Aye, I suppose that’s one consolation,” Eric admitted.

  “Consolation?” Monty exclaimed, looking mystified. ”Eh? How’s that a consolation? That’s the star prize!” Monty then proceeded to tell an ironic story to emphasise his point. “Ar, yeah. I forgot to tell yous... My boss called uz into his office the other day and offered uz a ten grand a year pay rise. But as a consolation he also offered uz twenty extra days holiday and a company car.”

  “Hey, you’re just like Jixyl, you, like, Monty,” Eric observed.

  “Is he a dashingly good looking fellow as well, like, is he?” Monty smirked.

  “Nar, he’s a proper sarky nowt!” Eric replied. “Anyway though, I wouldn’t have a company car if I was you, like. You get totally hit for tax.”

  “It was actually a made-up story,” Monty clarified. “I was just being sarcastic.”

  “Aye, I know,” Eric remarked. “I’m just
saying though, I wouldn’t have a company car. It totally eats up your tax allowance.”

  “I don’t understand you, Eric,” Monty mused, shaking his head. “You’ve just had some life-defining news and you’re going on about company cars.”

  “Well you brought the subject up, like,” Eric contended.

  “Aye, as a sarcastic story to illustrate my point,” Monty replied. “Look, getting back to my point, all I’m saying is that you don’t seem to understand the meaning of the word ‘consolation.’ Consolation is, like, when you don’t get a penalty but you get a corner instead. It’s not when you have to go and live in paradise.”

  “Aye, you’re right, I suppose,” Eric conceded.

  “So are you gonna do it, then, are you?” Monty asked.

  “I suppose I’ve got to really, haven’t I?” Eric shrugged.

  “Yeah, it’s such a chore,” Monty joked.

  Eric just laughed.

  “So have you just got to snog them, then?” Garth asked. “Or do you have to have sex as well?”

  “Nar, I just have to snog them,” Eric clarified. “The virus is transmitted by saliva.” As an afterthought he added, “but that’s not to say that I can’t have sex with them. Well ... if it wasn’t for my totally useless pulling skills, that is.”

  Garth’s mind was full of questions. “And do they breathe oxygen on this other planet, do they?” he inquired.

  “Ar ... er, nar. They breathe carbon monoxide,” Eric joked. “So basically within two minutes of uz landing I’ll be dead. That’s the one flaw in the plan. But other than that it’s a foolproof plan.”

  “Alright, I was only asking,” Garth snapped, in response to Eric’s irony.

  “I’m not the only one that’s a sarky nowt,” Monty noted.

  Normally Eric would have been inclined to continue with the sarcasm, but this night he had more important things on his mind. “Well anyway, they want uz to leave tomorrow morning,” he revealed, “so seeing as how this is gonna be my last night on Earth for a few months, do yous fancy going out for a few beers for a sort of a leaving do?”

  “Do you think that’s wise?” Garth cautioned. “If you have to be up early in the morning to fly across the galaxy then you don’t want to be having a hangover.”