Emceehamster, thats a great new philosophy you've got there. To heck with trying to win, the fun is in putting these things together. I had an idea on the train on the way home from work and just had to get it down. I may do another one later but for now, lets get the ball rolling with this little ditty.
The Cover UpJuly 8,1947, and a
terrible tragedy unfolds, as a
benevolent messenger from
beyond the stars crashes to Earth, his
malfunctioning spacecraft throwing him
backwards in time, sixty years off course!
*
“What d’ya think, Major?” the man in the back of the jeep asked, eyes wide as he chewed on a well-chewed toothpick. “You think we might find us a live one?”
Marcel snorted, bouncing in his seat as he guided the jeep across rugged terrain.
“A
live one, a
dead one, there better be
some one, or you’ll be in a heap o’ trouble Brazel! If you’s spinnin’ me sum bullshit I’ll see you spend chrissmas in a cell! Wastin’ military time is a serious offence, son.”
“I ain’t joshin’, Major, honest! I seen it come down alright, no mistake!”
“No mistake, huh? Then where in tarnation is it? We been drivin’ round like grade A assholes for two hours, an’ I am gettin’ mighty...”
The black suited man in the passenger seat suddenly held up a hand and silenced the Major.
“Shut up,” he said, dropping his binoculars and replacing the dark glasses that had rested in his lap. “There it is.”
The Major saw it and took his foot off the gas, bringing the jeep to a halt.
Before them, spread out across the parched desert earth, was the wreckage of the UFO Brazel had witnessed crashing the night before.
The men dismounted and made their way towards the largest chunk of debris, no sooner reaching it than a noise sounded within and a scorched panel fell clear, revealing a bloodied, green-skinned being trapped inside.
Marcel cursed, drawing his gun.
Brazel clapped, letting out a holler.
The man in black smiled, adjusting his shades.
“Earthlets...help...it is I, the Mighty ThaaaAAARRGGHHHH!!”
The alien screamed as a single bullet blasted from Marcel’s gun and punched a hole through his chest, splattering blood across the wreckage and killing him.
“
Mighty? You ain’t mighty
nuthin’! ’Cept mighty DEAD!”
“GodDAMNIT!” snapped the man in black, wheeling away and slapping his forehead.
“What?” Marcel challenged. “That sumbitch came ta invade us! I jest did us a favour!”
The man in black didn’t respond, just hurried back to the jeep to operate the field radio.
“Asshole,” Marcel spat, holstering his gun and turning back to the wreckage.
Brazel had found a busted container and removed something from it, which he was poring over excitedly .
“What ya got there?” Marcel enquired, ambling over.
“Comics!” Brazel gushed, grabbing another from the box and thrusting it at him. “Ones I ain’t never seen the likes of! My son’s gonna shit when I bring these home!”
“Comics?” Marcel sneered, taking the paper from Brazel and quickly flicking through it.
Suddenly, he rolled it up and snatched Brazel’s copy away, pushing the younger man aside.
“This ain’t goin’ nowhere, ’cept back to the base at Roswell.
All o’ this is property o’ the United States Government now, son, an’ you better ferget ya ever seen it,
especially this alien propaganda! Two thousand Ay-Dee? No way boy.
“Whatever this is, the world ain’t never gonna know about it.
“Because none of this EVER happened!”
*
Pray it isn’t so,
Earthlets!
Pray it isn’t so!
