23 comments

Science Fiction Funny Contemporary

‘Why don’t you go back to your own planet? Ya gangly E.T cunt!’

The alien waved back at the heckler, to try and diffuse his apparent distain and demonstrate that no hard feelings were held, but this appeared to make things worse. The alien still had not worked out why it was that humans got offended by the alien wave. Would the alien stop waving though? No. It was important to keep up with the local custom, as a sign of respect. Also, there was no way of them speaking Earth languages, just as it was not feasible for humans to speak Krotonian.

The ill wisher continued- ‘Comin’ over ‘ere, stealin’ our jobs! I ‘ate you!’

The alien had a ballpark idea of what the disgruntled chap was saying, it was commonplace slur. The alien could have retorted, minus the language barrier and explained, rationally, that they were both in the same boat, so to speak. Downtrodden. After thoughts. Oppressed. Making them kindred spirits. Brothers in the quarrel against tyranny and comrades in the fight for justice. Alas, however, all the alien was able to do was nod. Again, this didn’t go down well at all.

‘Ya scab!’ The human yelled, as he removed his shoe and threw it at the alien. The shoe was a size ten. Brown. It bounced off the alien’s shoulder. Given the size of the alien, the shoe was no bigger than a pack of cards, comparatively. The alien instinctively stooped to retrieve the errant footwear but this only served to anger the offended party further.

‘Don’t you touch my property, ya filth bag scum!’ The man was hysterical.

There was a general consensus amongst the humans that the aliens carried with them some kind of disease and that the mere act of contact would cause infection. Cross contamination. As a result, the humans kept their distance physically. The alien stood upright again and left the shoe in place.

‘Everythin’ were perfect before you came ‘ere!’ The man continued ranting whilst the alien took leave. ‘Paradise! Like a postcard! Everyday were like heaven! You ruined it, ya purple freaks!’

The man was still going as the alien turned the corner. This street was a known route for aliens, coming back and forth from the main factory, and was frequented by unemployed townsfolk on a daily basis, who had nothing better to do than shout at the Krotonians, blaming them for all their problems. Any perceived ill was now designated to the cosmic visitors- Cancer. Broken limbs. Alcoholism- All attributable to the aliens.


The next street the alien wandered onto was even more lively than the one before. A pastor of some sort was stood on an upturned, wooden crate and was preaching to a small group. ‘And I tell you, if you renounce all worldly sins and accept the Lord God Jesus into your hearts and souls, there will be salvation. For this cesspool we are festering in today is nothing more than a purgatorial nightmare, whereby we have been sent to, for punishment, for the misdemeanours committed in our previous life. It was the Apps, my brothers and sisters and everyone in between- Created by Beelzebub himself. The pixels. No man, woman, child or beast could escape the Lord our God’s vengeful wrath for our slovenly purge of the senses. We must pay- We all must pay!’

The pastor then noticed the alien skulking past and quickly turned his attention towards the extra terrestrial. ‘There’s one now! One of Satan’s henchmen! Sent to spy on the righteous! A messenger for the Devil. Orders from bellow to rock our boat of peace and tranquillity and tempt us with the sins of the mind! Well, not today, you demon child! Not on my watch- Begone with you, you salamander- The power of Christ compels you!’ The pastor took a glass of water out of a cardboard box and threw it over the alien’s face. The crowd cheered as the alien recoiled and the water went in it’s eye. The pastor was satisfied with the coverage he’d achieved but was reluctant to take full credit. ‘I am no perfect marksman, my friends, my hand was guided by the Lord! See how the holy water burns through the beast’s flesh that is not flesh. See how it writhes as it’s dowsed with the juice of God!’

The alien picked up the pace and got to the far end of the street, out of reach of the mental priest, who’s hand was now being kissed by several of his constituents. His throwing hand. Sacred it was to them now. Possessed they perceived it to be, with some kind of absent, remote divinity.

Despite the aliens being nine foot tall and as strong as Rhinos, the humans had no qualms over abusing them, for the threat of retaliation did not exist. The aliens were subservient pacifists. However, just in case one of the aliens lost the plot in a red mist fit of rage, the world government struck a deal with Kroton 14, stating that if so much as one strike was cast towards any human, all the Krotonians would be deported instantly, via the way they came aka teleportation, and their Earth visas would not be renewed. The leaders of Kroton 14 had also issued a stark warning to all its representatives on Earth and told them, in no uncertain terms, that any Krotonian found in breach of the strict government guidelines would be punished with one thousand years of solitary confinement, followed by a public execution. A messy one- Hung, drawn and quartered. Old school.

‘Spare some change, please?’ A homeless woman asked, as the alien passed her house- An upturned barrel used originally for the transportation of clams. The aliens were not exposed to money and so never carried it. The homeless woman knew this but was likely on autopilot. The alien ignored her accordingly.


The arrival of the aliens had been timed to coincide with the unveiling of gated communities on Earth. It had been common knowledge amongst the elite that the fuel would run out by 2050 and so, a twenty year plan to build the exclusive havens for the rich and the powerful and their bloodlines commenced. By the time the mass population realised what was happening, it was too late. By 2049, the Earth switched to renewable energy and all harvested power from wind, solar and wave automatically funnelled into the gated communities. Anyone outside the communities had to go back to basics. ‘We’ve left you plenty of wood.’ The leaders declared, as they sailed through the skies in blimps. ‘It’s character building. For you. Like a Robinson Crusoe adventure.’

Humans were obviously furious about this shift in dynamic but they were powerless, annoyingly. ‘If you don’t like it, you can leave at any time.’ Was the company line, touted amongst the leaders, like a slogan. To coincide with this, Euthanasia kits were free and available from all drugstores. The aliens had brought with them the secret of life and death and so, many humans simply chose to commit suicide rather than suffer the increasingly harsh conditions, knowing that it really didn’t matter whether they lived for another hour or another century. Drowning babies at birth was common practice.


The world government was more than happy for the aliens to take on the vast majority of planet Earth’s manual labour, meaning that the working class were mostly unemployed. It was no longer necessary to keep up the pretence that the majority of the human population were anything other than slaves. Now, however, they were worse than slaves, in a way, for they were useless. At least BA (Before aliens), there was a convenient veil of pretence- Illusion- Where everyone went about their lives, as if their made up jobs mattered. Roles such as sales executive, customer service representative, brand manager, Human resources, insurance etc were all commonplace. All absolutely pointless, of course, but all accepted pass times. But now that the lid was off Pandora’s box, it was impossible to be expected to get paid for anything that was not absolutely necessary for survival and nearly all these jobs had now been given to the aliens. Manufacturing. Food production. Maintenance- All alien roles. But here’s the kicker- All goods produced were ferried directly to the gated communities and so, anyone outside was left to essentially fend for themselves. Pets were not a thing anymore- All animals were eaten on sight. You’d kill and skin a cat soon as look at it, these days. Dogs were considered a rare treat. The plump ones like Pugs and French Bulldogs were eaten only on very special occasions and bread for this reason alone. Needless to say, the blame for the human’s dire predicament was placed almost exclusively on the aliens, for no government officials were left in the vicinity.

The aliens were compensated for their valuable services by receiving basic accommodation and a modest allowance of tokens that could be exchanged for Earth goods like body lotion or magnets or deodorant- Whatever they wanted. In return, they were expected to work seven day weeks, twenty hour days. This sounds a lot to us humans but the aliens did not require sleep or water and they tele-imported their own food, which only needed to be eaten once monthly. What’s more, they needed to be constantly moving, like sharks, and so the more work they were given the better. Even if they were sat down, they would need to tap their foot or shake their hands, else they would cease up and lose circulation. After two minutes of inactivity, they would harden like a log. After five minutes, they would crystallise and after ten minutes, they would shatter into a million pieces. A risk that no Krotonians were willing to take.


The alien finally reached it’s humble dwellings after navigating the gauntlet of terror that was the three streets walk from the factory to it’s house. It breathed a sigh of relief as the latch went on the front door and it took off it’s alien coat, which to us humans, could closely be described as plasma. The alien’s wife was sat on the sofa, wagging her finger. Not out of distain but in the interest of not perishing from stagnation. ‘You’re late.’ The alien’s wife said, as the alien slunk over to the couch. The alien sat beside it’s wife. ‘Urgh!!!’ The wife recoiled. ‘What’s that?!’

‘Some crazy man threw Earth water on me.’ The alien explained. ‘Well get it away from me!’ The alien’s wife pushed the alien. ‘It’s all me, me, me with you innit?!’

The alien patiently moved away from it’s wife. It may sound like the alien’s wife was a total bitch, from your perspective, cause you’ve only just met her, but she wasn’t always like this. On Kroton 14, she was the sweetest alien in their respective town. All the aliens were smitten with her, due to her kind disposition and youthful glow but being on Earth had sent the alien’s wife West and she one eighty’d into this battle axe you read before you now. The alien was prepared to stick it out though, as this living situation was only temporary and it was confident it’s wife would return to normal, once they were back on Kroton 14. If not, the alien would simply kill the wife, as was the local custom, given that divorce was prohibited but murder was perfectly fine. A simple procedure.

All the aliens were told they would only need to stay on Earth for two hundred years, after which they could return to Kroton 14 and live the rest of their lives in comfort and harmony. The average lifespan of Krotonians was around 10,000 years, so 200 years was nowt to them, the equivalent of around three human years.

The alien changed the subject. ‘What’ve you been up to?’ It asked it’s wife, as it dabbed it’s face with a tea towel.

The alien’s wife scoffed. ‘What do you think?’

The alien glanced at the telly. The hologram humans were sat in Central Perk. ‘Ah lovely.’ The alien said, with veined enthusiasm.

‘Don’t patronise me.’ The alien’s wife replied, as it turned up the volume, presumably to drown out the sound of it’s husband's breathing. The alien’s wife was obsessed with the TV show ‘Friends’. Even though New York had long since sunk, the alien’s wife kept banging on about taking a trip there, saying it wanted to know what it would be like to be Rachel and insisting they go to Bloomingdales, where the alien's wife planned to re-enact a shopping spree, by hiring a boat and floating over the rough spot of the underwater department store. Sometimes, the alien’s wife made them do Ross and Rachel roleplay, in the bedroom, where the alien would have to pretend to be on an archaeological dinosaur dig but then uncover ‘Rachel’ (The alien’s wife) who had been buried under the soil for millennia, yet preserved. Shortly after the discovery, they would copulate. The alien went along with it, even though it had absolutely no interest in dinosaurs or ‘Friends’. Or sex for that matter. Happy wife, happy life- That was the moto amongst the Krotonian husbands and a code of honour it would take to the grave. Not that they had graves, for the aliens instantly spontaneously combusted upon death.

The alien’s wife went into it’s daily tirade, like clockwork. The alien braced itself. ‘If we had a child, that would keep me occupied. Whilst you’re at work.’

‘We’ve talked about this, sugar head- This is no world to bring a new life into.’

‘Well God damn it, Dave- I’m bored out of my freakin mind!’ All aliens were given human names on arrival, to make the admin easier, as the Krotonian names were impossible to pronounce and could not be written in alphabetic letters.

‘Why don’t you try one of the Earth hobbies?’

The alien’s wife laughed hard. ‘What would you suggest? Archery? Badminton? Knitting?!’ The alien’s wife lit a cigarette. It now smoked twenty fags a day, despite the fact that the aliens did not have lungs and so, the smoke would simply seep out of their orifices, rendering the expensive habit completely futile. However, the alien’s wife had discovered that Jennifer Aniston was a smoker around the time that ‘Friends’ was being filmed and thus, endeavoured to do just the same. The Krotonians didn’t have hair in the traditional sense but nevertheless, the alien’s wife had managed to source a human wig and get it fashioned into a ‘Rachel’ hairstyle- Proper layered like she had in Seasons 1- 3. The alien’s wife chugged on it’s Marlboro light as it jeered it’s husband. ‘You’re pathetic, Dave.’

The alien sighed and put on it’s coat again.

‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’ The alien’s wife asked.

‘I have to go back to work. Overtime.’

‘Oh great,’ the alien’s wife stubbed out it’s cigarette on a its own palm- The pain reminded it that it was still alive. ‘Go on then. Leave me again- Like you always do. You’re just like Ross. Coward.’

‘Duty calls, Pumpkin tears.’ The alien said, as it skulked out of the front door again. The sound of ‘The Rembrandts- I’ll be there for you’ could be heard from the street, as the living room window was open. In truth, the alien did not have to go back to work again for another three and a half hours, but being outside was preferable to being stuck in the house with it’s spiteful wife.


‘Kiss my arse, you thieving stardust prick!’

A bone hit the alien in the head. By the looks of it, the bone had originally belonged to a human thigh. It didn’t hurt though. The bone. The aliens were very thick skulled. The bone had a similar effect that the impact of a matchstick would have on you or I. The alien picked up the bone and held it up to the assailant, asking if he wanted it back, to which the offender let out a blood curdling scream and sprinted in the opposite direction. ‘This place is fuckin weird.’ The alien thought to itself, as it dropped the bone and crossed the road.

The alien made it’s way to it’s favourite hiding place- A sturdy tree nearby. The branches were robust enough to handle the weight of the alien (Around three quarters of a ton) and high enough for the alien to stay out of view of the angry mobs. It climbed the tree and there it stayed for the next three hours, until it was time to go to work again. ‘Only one hundred and ninety eight years left.’ The alien gave itself a pep talk, as it slid down the trunk. ‘Piece of piss.’

The alien landed on the soft mulch at the base of the tree.

‘Get ta fuck, ya tree lovin alien monkey spaz!’

The Krotonian waved at the screaming loon, who promptly ran away. 

The alien set off to the factory. It would be early for work today but as they always say on Kroton 14- Better to be a day early than a second late. Not that time was a thing on Kroton 14. All demonstratives of Krotonian time throughout this short story have been created solely for ease of reader understanding.


August 11, 2023 12:15

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

23 comments

22:57 Nov 28, 2023

Don't know how I missed this one. It's (shortened form of 'it is'. Its - no possessive apostrophe - is instead of hers or his, if it is an 'it') a priceless story! Lots of underlying parody. The girls in our family all loved Friends. The joke wasn't lost on me. Loved that part. Not keen on the bad language - probably mentioned that before. Loved the rules and sayings of Kroton 14. Some the same and some hilariously different. I think the hobbies could have been different? Macrame? Making slime? Making YouTube videos? Vegetarian cooking class...

Reply

Show 0 replies
Frank Lester
01:37 Aug 16, 2023

An interesting thinly veiled metaphor to the current state of today's society. Very thoughtful. I probably missed most of the humor because "Friends" wasn't at the top of my viewing list. My son and daughter were avid fans. Overall, well done. Thanks for sharing it. Stay well.

Reply

James Larder
07:39 Aug 16, 2023

Thanks Frank :)

Reply

Frank Lester
00:14 Aug 18, 2023

You're welcome.

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Ellen Neuborne
23:45 Aug 15, 2023

This was great fun. And I agree that the advent of gated communities bodes ill for humanity.

Reply

James Larder
07:38 Aug 16, 2023

Absolutely Ellen and a very real prospect, thanks for reading and your feedback

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Nina H
15:39 Aug 12, 2023

Clever story, James! I died at the Ross n Rachel Roleplay portion. 😂

Reply

James Larder
18:13 Aug 12, 2023

Hahaha cheers Nina :)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Mary Ann Ford
12:04 Aug 12, 2023

A very well written story aside from the unnecessary choice language. May I ask; do you think Aliens exist and will be on earth in the future?

Reply

James Larder
13:04 Aug 12, 2023

I think they probably do yes and assume they are here already/ have been but perhaps not public

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
F. Mint
20:59 Aug 11, 2023

Like others have already commented, the reference to racism is loud and clear, as is the environmental concern the story brings with it. It seems that aliens are really no better than earth people, with the gender politics in the alien household mirroring boring 1950s stereotypes of a bored wife who would like a baby to fill the time and an overworked husband who'd rather hide in a tree because she nags. Why the alien wife doesn't work as much as the husband isn't clear. On the whole an interesting and entertaining story. Just a comment on g...

Reply

James Larder
21:07 Aug 11, 2023

Thanks for reading and your feedback! I'll check out the it's/ its situation. If I'm honest, I didn't know there was a difference so will look into it for future - Cheers :)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Kristin Johnson
18:16 Aug 11, 2023

Has me wondering: are people really the same all over?

Reply

Show 0 replies
Anna W
16:13 Aug 11, 2023

What a great human story, told in human form. Always enjoy your stories, James! Thanks for sharing this one.

Reply

James Larder
17:39 Aug 11, 2023

Cheers Anna! Glad you enjoyed :)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Mary Bendickson
15:43 Aug 11, 2023

Ah, the brave new world. Thanks for reading and liking a couple of my stories. 🙏 Tha.ks for liking my donuts 🍩.

Reply

James Larder
15:49 Aug 11, 2023

No worries Mary :)

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Martin Ross
14:17 Aug 11, 2023

Terrific story, full of heart but blunt about the runaway bigotry today. I get so angry at people who abuse and insult hardworking, decent immigrants. I worked for farmers for a long time, and migrant Latinos were the only folks they could depend on for reliable, diligent work. Some still realize that, but rural people mostly forgot it in 2016. When I helped teach English Second Language about 15 years ago, we posed for a group photo, and this nice dad turned to me and asked, “You sure you don’t mind getting your picture next to a Mexican?” ...

Reply

James Larder
17:37 Aug 11, 2023

Thanks Martin. That's shocking the comment that was made to you, very sad how people get hung up on external semantics rather than getting on with it and recognising our similarities. I'm actually researching someone atm from 20th century America- early to mid- So that's where the inspo came from for this story tbh, totally based on fact, of how folks behaved with regards to racial prejudice and segregation. It still happens all over to this day, of course, and would probably happen if aliens came as well. I don't know why this happens. I gu...

Reply

Martin Ross
22:51 Aug 11, 2023

My take on this subject this week was kind of alien-style wish fulfillment, steeped in the bigotry and atrocities if the late 2010s and the lore of ancient Aztec “alien” visitations. Grammar and style will come, but your fiction has great “bones” already. Look forward to more.

Reply

James Larder
23:32 Aug 11, 2023

Nice one Martin, will keep a look out for your stuff too 👍

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
14:03 Aug 11, 2023

A fun metaphor. Foreigners that live in japan need to carry a “alien registration card”.

Reply

James Larder
17:24 Aug 11, 2023

Cheers Scott, yeah was fun playing with the idea of 'othering' and nationalism but on a universal level! I guess its fitting to what would probably happen and who knows, perhaps will!

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
RBE | Illustration — We made a writing app for you | 2023-02

We made a writing app for you

Yes, you! Write. Format. Export for ebook and print. 100% free, always.