There was a green tentacled alien sitting on a metal folding chair up on stage. Goo was oozing from unseeable spots on his skin. "Well, nothing much has gone right in my life, " he bemoaned. "When I was seven, I was beaten angrily with sunspots until I could no longer ooze properly. " The crowd gasped in horror. He continued, unaffected. "The doctors didn't know how long it would be until I could ooze again. Some thought it would never be possible. But here I am today, oozing all the time. It just goes to show you that the power of positive thinking and nightly prayers will do you all the good in the world." The crowd clapped. Some jeered. "Yeah!" They were excited.

It's not every day you hear an oozing tentacle tell you about the power of prayer, but today wasn't a typical day. It was Sunday the blurbteenth on the Isle of Howard Oglesby, fifteen planets from Jamacia in the Sporknein solar system. Sporknein is an approximation, as there's no English equivalent of the word Sporknein. In the native tongue, it means "No Sporks". It sounds a bit like a cab driver being run over in a quiet Parisian alleyway. But I digress. The people of Sporktonia loved the power of prayer, and they loved listening to tentacles talk about it even more. It was a fairly disconcerting sight to watch a tentacle preach. It was a bit more disturbing than watching a Catholic priest preach. But not as disturbing as Dancing with the Stars. That show is messed up.

On the planet of Sporktonia, they have Catholics. Sometimes they molest little baby tentacles. With their own tentacles. It's very gross. Echoes of their grunting fill the churches nightly. Newspapers sound the alarms. But no one ever does anything about it. The most popular profession on Sporktonia is greeting card designer. The most popular poem is a poem by Zorbgank 7 titled "The Loneliness of Being". The hit song for the past three years has been "I got a build-up of Ooze and I need to tell somebody". It goes something like this:

I got a build up of ooze
and I need to tell somebody
It smells very bad
but the girls delight with rage

Of course in the native language, it all rhymes very neatly. To English ears, it sounds something like a half dog half cat being anally violated repeatedly with a lawnmower. Sometimes I can still hear the screams. Sometimes I can smell them. They smell funky. Really funky. The second verse goes like this:

I got more ooze in my guts
and a violin back at home
I got thirteen wives and children
They have auburn tentacles

The latest fad on Sporktonia is to hold glerbins with another tentacle and jump off a building. If you both live, you were meant to be together. If not, your relatives fight each other with cooking knives to decide who has to pay the government for your carcasses. That night, the males of each family goad one another into raping a water faucet. Water faucets on Sporktonia are biological based robots, so it's all very racuous and alarming to watch. Sometimes the local tv stations broadcast these knife fights around the globe. One time Sporktonia sent an unmanned probe into space with a titanium disc on it detailing their culture. On it was a male tentacle waving, a murdered female, three knives, and a curdferplabbbt with a two foot penis. A curdferplabbbt is sort of like a Sporktonian cow, only they taste a bit like boiled hot dogs.

Anyway, their top scientists all fought over the message. Some of them wanted to engrave more knife fights into the message disc, but there wasn't much room left after the president put his birthday wish list on it.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sort of glad that we haven't had contact with alien life yet. I don't want to be raped by a tentacle in a church, get thrown off a building and stabbed for money, or watch a robot get violated in the name of tradition. I do, however, enjoy The Game of Life. One time, I became a doctor. Yeah, that was the shit.

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