Comedy

All Hail Hypno-Goo

No one in their right mind could withstand an attack from the Supreme Galactic Order… Wilson was never in his right mind…

Apr 20, 2024  |   6 min read
All Hail Hypno-Goo
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This story was not going to end with a hero. True, Wilson had stopped an alien invasion; but he'd also turned the human race into moles, but this is getting ahead of the tale.

One of the hundreds of meteors during the annual Lyrid meteor shower actually made it to the surface of Earth; via a slow, controlled descent, touching down with barely a puff of dust. The meteor-actually, an interstellar probe from the Supreme Galactic Order- just had to wait for its exterior to cool to finish its enslavement mission.

Except the probe had chosen Wilson's back yard.

Wilson was an average, good enough guy. He owned a small house in suburban Roanoke; a little two-bedroom home surrounded by pine and oak. Wilson had spent the early twilight inside getting stoned, watching "The Big Bang Theory" reruns on his small-screen TV, and composing cleaver memes for Facebook on his laptop.

Then a Google News post about the meteor shower coincidentally happening on April 20 prompted him to set aside his laptop (and bong) and putter out to his back porch to catch the falling stars-what the hell, he was already up late with nowhere to take his unemployed butt the next morning. Watching one of the universe's better shows while enjoying a good buzz seemed like an excellent idea.

Except now he was staring down at a softball sized "something" that was glowing dull red and giving off soft metallic clicks. Part of his mind suspected this was a very, very bad thing. But that rational part of his brain was shouted down by an inner chorus of "We can SO sell this thing on E-Bay!"

Wilson stumbled over to retrieve a charcoal grill from the side of the house. Coming back, he set it down beside the glowing ball, giggling (ironically) at how the
grill looked like a flying saucer to him. He popped off the lid and used that as a scoop to roll the rock into the grill's base. It took a couple of three tries to do so because the object was hot and surprisingly heavy. Wilson snapped the lid shut, picked up the grill by its handle, and carried it into his house.

Setting the grill on the kitchen floor, Wilson pulled his cell phone out, feeling proud and high, ready to snap a photo and upload the picture to NASA or E-Bay; whichever one he could Google the website of first.

But Wilson was very perplexed and disappointed when he unsnapped the catches and lifted the lid - his rock was gone! In its place was a lumpy, throbbing green goo. Wilson stood dazed and staring at the goo, his cell phone held out to snap off a photo. Instead, as he watched the goo pulse, he hit the "Rec" button to record video.

The goo drew itself up into an undefined pillar, the tip of that pillar leaning in towards Wilson's phone. It extended a tendril and touched the device?

The image on Wilson's phone suddenly changed from video preview to two words:

(Greetings, slave)

Wilson blinked, almost dropping the phone. Onscreen "Greetings, slave" was replaced by:

(You can read, can't you?)

"The hell?" Wilson muttered.

(?) appeared on the screen, then: (Cannot pick up audio from this device, can you reply manually?)

"What, like texting?" Wilson asked the screen. The previous message repeated on the screen, but in all caps. "Wow, snippy little jello shot, ain't ya?" Wilson shook his head and typed:

(How u know Im talking if u cant hear me?)

The goo shifted to a multi-hued pulse, clearly irritated by this question.

(We can see your face with the image capturing function. Can you just type back!?!)

(Sorry,
E.T) Wilson typed. (And what da ya mean 'slave', Mr play dough?)

The goo pulsed orange:

(We are the advance guard of your new rulers, the Supreme Galactic Order. We are here to begin the assimilation process. The device you hold will be the key to that assimilation)

Wilson: (Yeah? How?)

A swirl of color filled the screen. It pulsed slowly; then flashed like a strobe. A kaleidoscope of indistinct images attacked Wilson's irises. He stood mesmerized, a silly grin turning up one side of his face. After a minute this visual onslaught ceased and the screen switched back to the camera view of the goo.

A computer like voice now came through the speaker:

"There, we have accessed all of this device's functions, and you are now under our control. You will take this device to your dwelling's broadcast center and...Why are you laughing?"

"That was so COOL, dude!" Wilson answered as he giggled. "Like that scene in 2001 when the aliens were doin' that warp thing. Only it kinda tickled my brain there and- "

"HOW DID YOU RESIST THAT?" the A.I. voice demanded. "That mind hypnosis Flash is how we've conquered countless civilized worlds across the greater galaxy! Only a stone age ignoramus would fail to succumb to its effects!"

"Yeah, well THIS stoned-out ignoramus's seen better special effects in a Pokemon anime. Ya gotta do something trippier than that to blow my mind!"

"So, your mind is less than functional right now? Are all of your fellow simians possessed of the same addled brain as you?"

"Naw, most people in this neighborhood are too straight to enjoy a good buzz..."

"Excellent! Then we shall access the signal emanating from your central data processor to send the Flash to all of this planet's population and - "

"Central who the what's it?" Wilson asked.

"We sense it behind you, perhaps in
that storage cubicle. If we can extend enough to touch it..."

Wilson turned around, opened the door to the pantry and looked inside. Spotting the Wi-Fi router on top of a shelf, he pointed at the box and showed it to the phone's camera eye. "That router what you're talkin' about?"

"Yes," the voice smugly intoned. "Once I touch that device, I can relay the Flash through its system and broadcast it across your globe. Your race will then fall easily under our control."

"Man, you sure talk big for such a puny blob," Wilson retorted, watching the goo struggle to extend a "finger" towards the wi-fi before snapping back like it had a cramp from the effort. "Hey, ya know, The Blob is the name of on old 50's sci-fi movie; think it starred Kevin Dillon." Wilson reached back into the pantry, picked up his fire extinguisher. He swung back to the now deflated pillar of goo still sitting in the grill and pointed the nozzle of the extinguisher at it. "They had a problem with another pile of crap like you in that film and they took care of it THIS way- "

Wilson squeezed the handle of the extinguisher. Then pulled the pin and squeezed the handle again. CO2 shot out and covered the goo in a cold coat of foam. A high-pitched whine came from the phone's speaker and trailed off as Wilson emptied the entire canister into the charcoal grill. The foam and goo dissolved into a gray puddle.

Wilson rasped: "E.T. chill out!" He held the camera out to record the puddle, then reversed the image to record himself giggling. He stopped recording, turned. and went back into the living room. Sitting on the couch, he reached for the bong on the coffee table.

"Mary Jane to the rescue," he
muttered, touching his lighter to the bowl. As he exhaled and sat back on the couch, Wilson used the remote to turn his TV back on.

Then Wilson snapped his head up when he saw what filled the screen:

There was a twin of the goo invader he had just iced! Even without eyes, Wilson knew the thing was "glaring" at the "camera".

"PATHETIC PEOPLE OF THE EARTH!" blared a Thanos-style voice. "YOU WERE TO BE THE NEW THRALLS OF THE GALACTIC ORDER! BUT THANKS TO AN INFERIOR MEMBER OF YOUR SPECIES, OUR PLANS HAVE BEEN THWARTED! WE HAVE DEEMED IT WOULD BE TOO PROBLEMATIC TO WASTE OUR RESOURCES ON CONQUERING AND MAINTAINING YOUR MISERABLE RACE, SO WE HAVE USURPED YOUR SATELLITE COMMUNICATION FEEDS TO ISSUE THIS PROCLAMATION OF DOOM-

"THE SURFACE OF YOUR WORLD IS TO BE WIPED CLEAN OF ALL LIFE! IT WILL TAKE JUST OVER FIVE CYCLES OF YOUR SOLAR ORBIT FOR AN ARMADA TO ARRIVE AND CARRY OUT THIS CLEANSING! WE SUGGEST YOU START DIGGING SUBTERRANEAN SHELTERS TO SAVE AS MANY OF THE VERMIN YOU CALL PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE. MEANTIME, YOU MAY BESTOW YOUR GRATITUDE FOR YOUR FATE UPON THIS MAN- "

The TV switched to a video of Wilson shooting foam on the blob, then his giggling face (the goo must have sent a distress signal to its mother ship as it died). The screen went to static- the Supreme Goo had also cut off the "Big Bang" rerun!

Wilson knew there were two things he had to do. First, grab his "bug-out bag" so he could head for the nearest sewer and hide from the invasion-and the rest of humanity-

And second, see how fast he could upload all this to YouTube!

End

 

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Traci Ford

Apr 23, 2024

Cool story!

sss