How I Saved the World From Aliens, Scientologists and Glenn Beck (Almost)

Read Time:14 Minute, 28 Second

(A chapter from the forthcoming novel, The Lawyer and The Engineer: A Blog Odyssey)

After consuming four scotch and sodas of the stout and blended variety, I hunkered down on the couch to watch some TV. The kids and wife were upstairs, already in bed, and I figured this to be my golden chance to catch Hitler, Three Balls or One, on The Discovery Channel.

By the time the program was over, I was as perplexed as ever whether Hitler had three balls or just one. There are some things we will never know. A program about alien abductions was coming on and I decided to stick around for that as I was feeling increasingly immobile.

Just as I was about to doze off, I heard a sound, like children’s feet shuffling across the wood floors. I opened my eyes to find myself staring into the deep dark holes of a smart ass looking alien who was regarding me with a sneer.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I asked politely. The alien continued to glare at me the way a person would at a dog taking a crap in the park. “Look here,” I said, “I’m a lawyer. So you had better be very careful how you deal with this situation, and back it on out of here like nothing happened. What you’re doing is called breaking and entering and could land you up to twenty years in the state pen.” The alien rolled his big black eyes, and then zapped me with some sort of brilliant light. I was rendered paralyzed.

The next thing I knew, I was in a small metallic room, completely featureless but for one tiny window in the wall. Taking a peak, I watched the planet earth shrink to the size of a pea. Inside my pants, my wang shrunk to the size of a vienna sausage.

As I was contemplating a life in the cold darkness of space at the mercy of smug aliens with big black rolling eyes, there was a knock at a door to the room. I jumped so hard I hit my head on the ceiling and knocked myself unconscious.

For a moment, passed out on my back, I had this horrible notion that I had been abducted by aliens. As you can imagine, I was relieved to see John Travolta standing over me, in some kind of boat captain’s costume, inquiring about my wellbeing.

“Hey, bud, you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, John Travolta,” I said rubbing my head as he helped to sit me up. “You know, I had this crazy notion I was on an alien space ship…and…and.” I looked around me. I was in the same shiny metal room with John Travolta in space. I bolted to my feet and hit my head on the low ceiling again. “Goddamnit!” I yelped rubbing my head. “Where in the fuck am I, and why are you here?” I inquired.

“Take it easy,” John Travolta politely implored. “It’s okay, man. You are aboard The Good Ship Hubbard.” Travolta laughed. “At least that’s what I call it. The aliens call it something different that I can’t pronounce.”

“Go on,” I said.

Just as Travolta was about to explain further, a horrific, girlish scream could be heard coming from somewhere inside the vessel, and it was a human scream. “What in the hell was that?” I asked.

“Oh, that,” Travolta said with a humorous ease. “It’s a little experiment. Actually I’m not supposed to talk about it.” Pausing, Travolta considered me for a moment, and then laughed. “Well, I can tell you. It won’t hurt any, because the aliens will erase your memory, if they decide to return you to earth.”

I was liking this whole ordeal less and less with each passing second. Gritting my teeth I rolled my arm to signal that Travolta go ahead with what he was going to tell me.

“Ah, come on,” he said. “I’ll show you.” We stepped out of the minature door and walked the distance of a long hallway. “There it is,” Travolta said with a proud look. I looked through the window of a door and was blown away by what I saw.

The room I was peering into looked like an examination room at a doctor’s office. There were instruments on tables and tubes sticking out of the walls. A couple of the aliens with big black eyes were busy doing something. On the patience table was no other than Glenn Beck looking distressed and sweaty. “That’s fucking Glenn Beck,” I said.

“Yep,” conceded Travolta. “That’s Glenn Beck all right,” he said laughing. “Isn’t he the cutest looking little butter ball you’ve ever seen?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say cute, but it is kind of amusing to see the poor guy kind of vulnerable and freaked out,” I said.

“Yeah,” Travolta laughed. “He is kind of douchey,” he said nudging my chest with the back of his hand. “But he’s our douche.”

“What do you mean, he’s your douche?” I asked.

Travolta got real close to my face. “Have you ever wondered how a guy could be so nuts? Have you ever wondered could that guy, Glenn Beck, really believe the crazy shit he says?”

I nodded. Yes I had wondered precisely that on many occasions.

“He’s programmed, man,” said Travolta. “You see, this is a joint venture between us Scientologists and these aliens from the Fringus system on the other side of the solar system. They are pretty damn humorless, but not so bad once you get to know them.”

“I think they are assholes. At least the one that broke into my house.”

“Oh,” said Travolta. “That was Rick. He is an asshole. Have you ever met anyone you liked named Rick?”

“No, I haven’t,” I confessed. “So, what’s the deal with Glenn here?”

“Oh, hey! Look there,” said Travolta pointing out a nearby window. I looked out the window to see another space craft from where Tom Cruise and Rush Limbaugh were waving and smiling out a window to us. I had a nauseating feeling in the pit of my gut like I had just won a hot dog eating contest. Something was amiss.

“Say, you look a little pale,” said Travolta. “Why don’t we get you back to your room so you can have a little rest.”

“No, fuck you,” I said. “Tell me about Glenn here. Why’s he here? Why am I here? Why in the fuck are those dick wads, Tom Cruise and Rush Limbaugh, on that other space ship smiling at us like a couple of fucking idiots?”

“Come on,” said Travolta with a serious look and grabbing my arm. I jerked my arm away from him. “Rick!” yelled Travolta. Rick appeared immediately looking me straight in the eyes with an angry grimace on his face. I decided it would be wise to comply.

“Fine, I’ll go to my room,” I said no sooner than Beck let burst an ear piercing scream more girlish than the first one I had heard earlier. I turned to see what was the source of his discomfort. Upon seeing what I saw, I thought for sure I would puke all over Rick’s feet and Travolta’s shoes. A snake like metallic probe had been sent up Glenn’s yoo-hoo causing his eyes to roll into the back of his head. On a monitor next to his bed were the words, “INSTALLING SOFTWARE.” I puked on Rick’s feet and Travolta’s shoes.

After much cursing in English and Fringus I was quickly ushered back to my cell by Rick who tossed me into the low metal room. He slammed the door behind me, only to open it quickly and flip me an extraterrestrial bird, and then slammed the door again. Oh, I hated him.

After laying on my back on the cold metal floor for a spell I stood, completely unable to relax. As I stood, looking out the tiny window, mesmerized by space, the door to the room behind me flew open causing me to jump so high I hit my head on the ceiling knocking myself unconscious. I had the sensation I was being slapped in the face by Glenn Beck. I opened my eyes to discover that I was being slapped in the face by Glenn Beck.

“Wake up, damn you. Wake up,” Glenn demanded. Fully conscious, again, I was looking wide-eyed into the wide eyes of Glenn. “We got to get out of here. You’re going to help me,” said Glenn. “We don’t have much time. That asshole Rick will discover that I’m not back in the other room any minute now. Take this,” he said handing me something that looked like an X3 multi-shot Tazer, with dual lazer system (TM), smart cartridge, with an enhanced power magazine.

“Holy of holies,” I said. “Is this what I think it is? An X3 multi-shot–”

“It is,” said Glenn. “Come on, get up.”

“Whoa,” I said. “I need to know what this crap is all about. Why in the hell should I help you do anything?”

Glenn grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me to his face. “Do you think I enjoy being known as the most batshit crazy Mormon in the history of mankind? I’m not that guy on Fox News. I’m just a coke-snorting Morning Zoo douche bag DJ deep inside,” he said patting his heart. “They’ve been abducting me for years, programming me to be Glenn Beck the freak-a-boo on Fox News. Their goal is to have people like me, and Rush Limbaugh to dumb down Americans to the point they’ll believe anything, and buy gold by the pounds and Bill Blass clothing that sponsors Limbaugh.”

“Gold, Bill Blass, what? I’m not following you.”

“Yeah, man, gold. The Church of Scientology has been investing like drunks in gold certificates and Bill Blass stock. They have enough holdings in both they are rich beyond anyone’s comprehension. Money is power and buys elections. At this rate, within ten years we’ll all be pledging allegiance to the flag of the Republic of Scientology, and Tom Cruise will be our leader.”

A chill ran down my spine at the thought of it. I looked down at the X3 in my hand. “What’s your plan?” I asked.

Beck and I stood at either side of the door leading to the command center of the craft. Beck whispered, “Are you ready?” I nodded in the affirmative. “One, two, three!” We burst into the room, where Rick, two other fucking aliens and Travolta were in the middle of a fierce match of Wii tennis. They turned in unison to look at us, as the ball skipped past Rick’s player costing him and his teammate the match. Rick was as pissed as I have ever seen an alien, and took three heavy steps towards Glenn and me with his fist clenched.

“Careful,” said Glenn holding up his X3 menacingly. “It’s set to maximum voltage.”

“Hey, hey, Glenn. Easy,” said Travolta in a calm voice. “Let’s talk about this.”

“Fuck you,” said Glenn and let Travolta have it with enough voltage to light up a city.

“Gididididididididi,” said Travolta through chattering teeth and hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

“You’re next, Rick,” I said. Rick halted.

“Wait,” said Glenn. “I know how to handle this asshole.” Turning to Rick, Glenn said, “Get over to the controls and get us back to earth, now, asshole.”

Rick glared at us, with those irritating black eyes of his, and slowly moved to the captain’s chair and began manipulating controls on a console. Before us, on a large screen earth came into view and was growing larger. Glenn turned to look at me and raised his hand to give me a high five. Then Rick slammed on the brakes causing us to fly forward, head over ass. My tazer and Glenn’s went flying out of our hands, skidding across the floor. Glenn hit his head and was struck unconscious, something that seemed to happen frequently on The Good Ship Hubbard. I began to scramble across the floor for my tazer, grabbed it, and felt something cold on the back of my head.

Rick spoke. “Let it go. What you feel on the back of your head is an X26 Tazer (TM) with ECD, compressed nitrogen deployment, and insulated conductive wiring, with memory eraser (TM). One false move, and you get it.”

“Well, shit,” I opined.

“Get up,” said Rick in an assholish tone that did him little credit. I stood. “I hate humans so much. You people are soooooo stupid it gives me no other choice but to be an asshole. That’s the only reason us Fringons do this and help Scientologists take over your planet. Just to fuck with you. On our planet we have everything we need and all the time in the world to screw off, and play Wii, if we want. But our main goal is to destroy your planet with gold, Bill Blass apperal, Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck and Scientology. Call it a pet project. You people deserve no better. In fact, we have big plans for you. You’re going to get it up the wazoo just like your human friend, Glenn Beck.”

“He’s not my friend,” I clarified.

“SILENCE!” Rick demanded. “From now on you will be programmed to write on your stupid fucking blog for us. You’ll be America’s most famous and insipid conservative writer. You’ll acquire a sponsor, and the Church of Scientology will gobble up their stock.” With that piece of information conveyed, Rick began to laugh in a way so forced and contrived that it left no shadow of a doubt, but that he had to be the biggest asshole in the universe.

Behind him Glenn slowly stood, and in rapid fire let Rick and his cohort have it with the X3, dropping them all to the floor, convulsing and spitting.

Glenn ran to the control console and started hitting buttons nilly-willy. The craft lurched backwards a few thousand miles, up and then down, and then straight for earth.

We burst through the clouds, and the ground was coming up to meet us fast. “We’re going to die, Glenn! Where’s the fucking brakes on this thing?” I screamed like a seven year-old girl. Glenn yanked and pulled at everything he could get his hands on. With mere seconds to spare he hit a big red button that said, “STOP.” We went flying head over ass, and banged into the large monitor in front us, shattering it to pieces. Glenn was knocked unconscious, again.

“Come on, get up!” I yelled at Glenn, slapping the Mormon pussy in the face as hard as I could. “Get the fuck up!”

“I’m up!” he screamed as I continued to give him what for. “I’m up! Quit hitting me in the face, goddamnit!”

“How do we get out of here?” I asked.

“Follow me,” said Glenn, his face bright red.

We ran the length of the hallway and down two flights of stairs. Glenn hit a button on a panel on the wall. Below us the hull opened exposing the ground of the park across the street from my house. It looked about a ten foot drop to the dirt below. Glenn and I hesitated. “That might hurt,” I said.

“Not as bad as this will,” said John Travolta standing behind us, with Rick who had one of those horrid looking probes in his hand that looked just like the one Glenn had up his yodel-doodle earlier. Glenn jumped.

“Fuck it,” I said, and jumped, too, hitting the ground hard and rolling, twisting my ankle badly.

Glenn and I got to our feet as quick as we could, and looked up at Rick and Travolta standing in the hatch at the under belly of the space craft. “Ha! ha!” Glenn exclaimed, doing an end zone dance. “I’m free bitches! You’re going to have to find someone different to pimp gold for you!”

The probe in Rick’s hand let out a blast as it extended all the way to the ground, wrapped around Glenn’s leg and pulled him straight up into the ship, as the hatch was closing. The craft turned a few different colors and was gone into the night sky, but returned suddenly. The hatch opened, where only Rick stood. He gave me a double bird. The hatch closed and The Good Ship Hubbard disappeared for good.

I gingerly walked up the stairs to the bedroom, and turned on the light. My wife sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. “Why are you covered in dirt and grass? What time is it? What have you been doing?”

I opened my mouth to begin to recount all that just happened, but stopped myself short, thinking better of it. “Oh, nothing,” I said, and limped off to take a shower.

About Post Author

C.H. McDermott

C.H. McDermott is a jack-nut doing what he loves best, which changes with each passing moment.
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SJ
13 years ago

Very funny and entertaining Lawyer. Serialize these and I will check in faithfully.

osori
13 years ago

Lawyer mi amigo,
Whatever you ate or smoked or drank to write this, you got to keep doing it! And on a regular basis. Funny as hell man!

13 years ago

David who?…oh dear…I think I’ll go to sleep now…well..one more voddy perhaps

13 years ago

Krel just posted about a nightmare, this would have been more scary than David Whitfield.

Barbara Russo
13 years ago

Great! Very, very funny:)

Jess
13 years ago

So this based on a true story then? LOL

Reply to  Jess
13 years ago

If it was true, he would had mentioned the alien anal probe.

13 years ago

There yer go Lawyer! Krell says masterpiece!!!

Krell knows these things. It’s quite spooky…;-)

..signed copy mate or letter bombs will ensue. Fair enough?..;-)

13 years ago

This is a F#$$ing masterpiece! ROFLMAO!!

13 years ago

and you’re book is published when?

and I get a free signed copy when?

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