Greetings puny Earthlings.
Now I'm sure many of you are curious as to what I was up to during my almost two weeks on your planet, and since I have some time to kill while waiting for my fellow panelists to thaw out from their time in Android CAI/7's stasis tubes, I'm going to post my diary of my trip to Earth.
By Remulak MoxArgon
NOVEMBER 1st, 2006.
I woke up on a bed of empty beer cans. My head ached and my mouth felt like a leprechaun had dropped a deuce in it while I slept.
"Dude," said a voice from behind an overturned sofa, "that was the best Halloween party ever."
The voice was vaguely familiar, then my memory of the night before hit me like a medieval weapon in the hands of an attractive, but feisty female columnist.
I was in the house of the Delta Delta Delta Fraternity, and last night had marked my initiation into this august brotherhood. The voice emerging from behind the overturned couch belonged to Scooter, my new adopted brother. The initiation itself was a rather simple affair, no blood trials, or pits of doom, just a lot of male bonding, beer, tequila, and a visit by the lovely ladies of Eta Beta Pi Sorority.
"Dude," said Scooter, rubbing his red eyes and having some of the hair of the dog that bit him. "Whose panties are on your head?"
Thankfully, they were conveniently labelled.
"Her last name is Haines," I said. "It doesn't say her first name."
"Was she the chick in the Catwoman costume?" asked Scooter.
I tried to recall, but despite recovering some of what happened, the bulk of the night's activities was a hazy blur.
"I do recall she left smiling," I added. "You know what they say, once you go blue, nothing else will do."
"Well that is one hell of a costume you've got," then Scooter paused and looked at me closely with his bloodshot eyes. "Wait a minute, dude, that ain't a costume."
"Dude," I said, "I ain't even got pants."
"Haines tossed them on the chandelier," said Scooter, taking the presence of an alien conqueror rather well, "I'll get the broom to fish them off."
Later that day, I was showered, dressed, and bid goodbye to my new brothers, Scooter, Wankmeister, The Tank, Stinky, Moose, and Bill the Pervert, and the hospitality they showed me in their humble home.
For a race that I will eventually conquer and enslave, they sure throw one hell of a party.
I looked up at the sky, the stars above were as familiar to me as the back of my own zolbaks, yet I didn't really know this puny little blue green rock as well as I thought I did.
It was then that I decided to see a little of this place you Earthlings call home.
"I make greetings at you?" said a strange looking fellow with a bushy black moustache and hair that looked like it had been styled with a blender. He was wearing an ill fitting grey suit and a manic expression that looked like he had a cattle prod wedged in his rectum, and he liked it.
"Who the hell are you?" I asked, I was just outside the capitol building buying a hot dog from a vendor named Stewie, when this creature decided to interrupt my lunch. A cameraman was following him, taping everything he said.
Why, I do not know.
"I am Borat," said the crazed little man, "I am journalist from Kazakhstan, could you say something anti-Semitic for me?"
"Despite my resemblance to a young Mel Gibson," I said, "I am neither drunk, now, nor an anti-Semite, ever. And besides, your accent is all wrong."
"Listen mate," snarled this Borat fellow in what was now a cockney accent, "say something stupid, I've only got 15 more minutes to milk this damn thing!"
"I'll bet that moustache is fake," I said as a reached up and gave it a good yank.
The moustache was real.
It was then that I decided to get out of Washington for a while.
To Be Continued....