“You are the product of five billion years of evolution. Fucking act like it.” -Correcthorse121
“Yer the product of five billion years of evolution,” the gray-skinned, dome-headed alien said, staggering drunkenly as he pointed my bottle of Jack Daniels (now mostly empty) at me. “Fuckin’… act like it.”
“Gettin’ reeeaaaal into character, man,” I drawled, trying to take my booze back. The guy in the alien costume held me off with his long, three-fingered hand, tossing his head back to empty the bottle.
“I mean, lookitchu,” he said, falling on his rear and trying to make it look like he had meant to do that. “I flew ‘cross fifteen gazillion – hic – miles of empty fuckin’ space to meet you ffffuckers, and who’s the first guy I meet?” He bit the neck of the bottle off, chewing it like it was hard candy instead of glass. “Some fuckin’ sad sack sittin’ inna middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere feelin’ – hic – sorry for hisself.”
If I hadn’t been totally plastered – I’d been drinking a lot that night before the alien-costume-guy showed up – I would have given a bit more thought to a lot of what he had said. Sadly, my memory was shot, so I had already forgotten the start of his speech by the time he was done. I wasn’t even curious why he was eating the bottle. “I’ve hadda bad day.” I belched, my alcohol-fueled roller coaster dragging me down from giddy drunkenness to sad drunkenness. “I loved ‘er, and she – hic – she went and did summat like that.”
The guy in the alien costume – it looked really life-like – rolled his big, black eyes. “Ugh, you are so fuckin’ sad,” he groaned, crunching down the last of the bottle. “Gettin’ all mopey shit from fuckin’… female problems. D’you see that fuckin’ ship?” He pointed at the flying saucer parked next to my pick-up truck on the empty dirt road. It glowed, and hurt my eyes. “I have been fuckin’ stuck in that fuckin’ thing for – for like a fuckin’ year. Flyin’ all by m’self alllll the way here. In that thing.” He hiccuped so hard he nearly fell over. “Do you have annyidea how freakin’ boring that can get.”
“And what sorta welcome wagon do I fuckin’ get? A drunk redneck, out inna middlea Bumfuck, Nowhere.” He hiccuped, and this time he did fall over. “I’m likin’ the booze, tho. I am not gonna lie. Any more?”
“Nope,” I sighed.
“Shit,” said the stranger who had come from the sky to listen to my troubles, drink my whiskey, and then drunkenly curse at me. “Well, where can we fuckin’ get some more?”
The flying saucer was just as shiny on the inside as the outside, and the blinking lights glared at me like judgmental eyes. Acting like they were so much better than me, a drunk redneck whose wife up and left him. “The fffuck‘re you lookin’ at?” I said to a blinking red one. “You think you’re so much better’nme? I’ll fuggin’…” I tried to punch it and missed. “Take it like a man, ya-”
“Might wanna hold on to sumfin’,” the guy in the alien costume said as his spindly hands manipulated the controls. “Not a hunnerd percent sure I should be flyin’ while this intox- intoxic- hammered.” He gave a small smile of satisfaction at having outwitted his uncooperative tongue.
“Iffa cops tryta pull us over, we can frikkin’ – evaporateify ’em,” I said sagely.
“Now you’re speakin’ my – hurk – language,” my new friend said. “Well, I’m speakin’ yer language. Yaknowwhaddifugginmeen.” He burped. “Le’s go get some booze already. We gotta…” He checked the blinking lights that I couldn’t understand even if I was sober. “We gotta lotta time ‘fore I have ta blow this place to hell.”
He hiccuped. “Shitty planet,” he grinned, “But you monkeys make some fiiiine al-co-hol.”