The three arrive at the white-house and are greeted via secret service upon the white-house lawn.
A Secret service agent looks down at Jorg who is still cuddling Alf.
Agent: Dogs aren't allowed into the white house...
Jorg: THEN NEITHER AM I! THIS IS A SERVICE DOG! AND INTEGRAL PART OF OUR GROUP! WITHOUT HIM I'M COMPLETELY USELESS!
The agent looks down at the puppy and speaks sarcastically.
Agent: A three pound puppy?
Jorg: YOU'RE GODDAMNED RIGHT! THREE POUNDS OF UNIMAGINABLE, RAW POWER PACKED INTO A CUTE CUDDLY, FURRY PACKAGE!
*Alf growls defiantly at the secret service agent
Jorg pets the dog while speaking to it softly: It's ok boy...he didn't mean it. Don't let the big scary man in black get to you.
Alpha: I can attest from firsthand experience that he won't go anywhere without that dog.
Agent: Fine, but you're responsible for it.
Jorg: HIM!
And so they're escorted into the oval office.
Lying before them is a table littered with the refuse and remains of various fast food wrappers and half eaten kids meals. On a television mounted to a wall next to a portrait with a sheet cast over it, a popular conservative news propaganda machine is relaying opinionated politics; echoing throughout the office as a short fat man in a toupee screams angrily at the television.
Tramp: I DIDN'T FUCKING SAY THAT!
*he hurls a cheeseburger at the television in discontent
Luna: Mr. President
*there is the sound of food being ingested gluttonously interjected with grunts of dissatisfaction, laced with incoherent profanity
Luna: Uh.....Mr. President
*the sounds continue unmoved
Luna: MISTER PRESIDENT!!
Tramp spins around in a luxurious leather armchair: WHAT!?!?
Alpha mutters under his breath: Fat bastard....
Jorg chimes in: GIT IN MIH BELLY!
Luna shoots a glare at the two
Tramp notices the three standing before him and his disposition immediately begins to change.
Tramp: OOOooohh Luna! It's you! Seeing your beautiful face always makes my day that much brighter.
*Luna fidgets uncomfortably
Luna: Thank you Mr. President.
Tramp gazes in astonishment at the two extraterrestrials standing before him.
Tramp: And these two would be Alpha and Jorg? The saviors of mankind!
Alpha mutters again: Unwillingly....
Jorg: Yeah....
Jorg cracks his fingers, posturing
Jorg: I'm kind of a big deal...
Tramp: I'm sure by now you MUST know why I’ve summoned you here...
*Tramp presses a button on a small remote lying on the oval office desk and the television screen begins to relay footage of the "illegal aliens" invading earth, landing inside of the united states and rampaging the countryside, food production and distribution centers all across the nation, destroying national parks and wildlife reservations.
Tramp: I have a mission for the two of you; if you so choose it.
*Tramp leans back in his luxurious armchair whilst interlacing his fingers and gazing at our heroes with an air of regality.
Alpha responds flatly
Alpha: No...
Tramp's face twists and turns red as he begins slamming his little hands against the armchair and table, kicking his feet and yelling
Tramp: WHADDYA MEAN NO!?!? I GOTTA FUCKIN CATASTROPHE ON MY HANDS! I DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR THIS SHIT!
"NO?"
"NO!!!"
YOU'RE LIVIN' IN THIS COUNTRY AND YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SHITS CAN'T EVEN DO YOUR DUE DILIGENCE!
Alpha looks at Tramp amusingly: We only stayed here at the behest of the previous administration.
Tramp: FUCK HI-
Luna: Mr president; is the situation really so dire that you need Alpha and Jorg's help?
Tramp: ABSOLUTELY! THESE ALIENS ARE A LIVING PESTILENCE! THEY KEEP COMING OVER HERE, INVADING THE GODDAMN COUNTRY....
Tramp trails off into a prolonged rant about illegal aliens being a destructive force upon the planet.
Jorg is sitting in the corner of the oval office crushing crystals with a bust of Abraham Lincoln with Alf in one hand the dog scurrying over his body trying to sniff the crystals
Jorg: No boy! Can't have that! This stuff isn't meant for doggies!
A secret service agent snatches the bust out of Jorgs hand
Agent: YOU CAN'T DO NARCOTICS IN THE OVAL OFFICE
*Jorg retorts bluntly
Jorg: Can't is the cancer of happen...
As Jorg smashes his face into a fancy silver dinner tray crouched upon the oval office floor luna interjects Tramp mid tirade.
Luna: Why not Alpha? Why can't you two help? It's not like either of you have more pressing matters at the moment besides getting shitty in seedy bar rooms and harassing titans of industry...
Alpha: That's besides the point; we're not your own personal cleanup crew; we're not cosmic pest control. I made a vow not to get entangled in the affairs of humanity a long time ago and I'm not about to break it to sate this chonky little pissant's ego.
Tramp sighs discontentedly, looks down and then back up at Alpha with a mischievous grin.
Tramp: I was hoping it wouldn't come to this but it seems somethings ARE universal.
Tramp: Nothing in this world comes for free....
Alpha: Because you people have made it that way.
Tramp: So.....let's..make...A DEAL!
*Tramp presses another button on the small remote and the tv flips around into a partitioned surveillance feed with a short segment of the "star spangled banner" playing via a loudspeaker inside the oval office conjoined with red, white, and blue lights cascaded with the images of shadows of stars encircling the walls of the office.
Tramp: So I've been told that the two of you have a taste for purified Dimethyltryptamine. I've been preparing for just this sort of event incase the two of you were needed and required some "extra motivation".
*Tramp points at the surveillance screens
Tramp: On each of these feeds is a defacto industrial sized plant that manufactures purified Dimethyltryptamine.
Tramp: A "fuckload"; more than either of you, even a maniacal little alien junky could ever consume in a thousand human lifetimes.
Jorg immediately stops what he's doing, drops Alf who whimpers quietly and stares at the screen, his mouth agape in sheer amazement.
Alpha: You clever son of a bitch...
Tramp: Each one of these factories is secured in an undisclosed location that even I dont know of, but rest assured when our little problem is taken care of the two of you will have access to all of the Dimethyltryptamine you could ever want or need.
Alpha: This feels dirty....
Jorg: Do you feel like a dirty girl?
Alpha: I feel like a prostitute on Valentine's day....
Tramp: So?? Do we have a deal?
*Alpha snatched off his fedora, throws it on the ground and stomps on it while cursing in vain.
Alpha: FUCK! GODDAMNIT! NOT AGAIN!
*Jorg’s eyes now as wide as little black saucers, responds enthusiastically.
Jorg: HELL YES!
Luna claps her hands and giggles in amusement.
Luna: looks like the two of you are on the hook for humanity again!
YOU ARE READING
Kinder Cosmic: Part 2 - Paradise Lost
Science FictionThe grey aliens known as Alpha and Jorg have settled into their home away from home upon our Earth; tucked away in an MIT laboratory. As they regail one another with stories of the many Earthly activities in which they've participated in order to p...
