Star date 183:7B46
In an effort to further analyze the sentient sacks of beef occupying Earth, a.k.a. Big Blue Marble Place, we have monitored the nightly activities of one adult male, hoping to gain additional knowledge on this perplexing species. The results are as follows.
11 p.m.: Much like the blind mole people of Little Red Sphere 4, the subject appears to be unresponsive to the sun’s descent, outside of the increased consumption of frozen cow juice known as “Chunky Monkey.” Upon researching the origin of both “monkey” and “chunky,” we find this to be horrifying, yet somehow delicious.
12:30 a.m.: Subject has entered into what our researchers have deemed “The Quodathalon,” a perplexing period in which the subject eats, drinks, pleasures self, and watches big wall screen, usually performing at least three of these tasks at once. This routine has split the crew, as half of us find it repulsive, while the other half are curiously impressed.
1:15 a.m.: Having finished The Quodathalon, the subject appears to bask in its own glow momentarily, waiting what our medical team calls “a disgustingly long time” before cleaning its meat gloves.
1:30 a.m.: Subject appears to enter into staring match with reflective surface above the hand-water hole. Our analysis confirms that there is no winner to this, only losers.
1:35 a.m.: Returning to its large, long seat, the subject appears to stare achingly into a square light box, scanning through pages of beef sacks who once attended “Center Valley High School.” Our suspicions are that this is to remain vigilant of possible foes, although that has yet to explain the subject’s tears.
2:00 a.m.: Subject watches “Dr. Dolittle 2.”
3:30 a.m.: Subject returns to reflection above hand-water hole and applies ointments and creams to his face surface. Scans tell that while the subject is unaware of their effects, he thoroughly believes they are all that stand in between him and death.
3:45 a.m.: Subject lies upon larger, longer seat, in which he begins a horizontal dance of sorts, attempting something known as “comfort.”
3:50 a.m.: Subject remembers it forgot to scrub its mouth knifes, but does nothing to remedy.
3:55 a.m.: Subject remembers mortality of every member of its species, including its mother’s, its own, and that of the alpha human known as “Justin Timberlake.”
3:56 a.m.: Subject questions the notion of a higher power, yet luckily never questions if anyone is monitoring his night cycle, as that would have really freaked us out.
3:57 a.m.: Subject stares into the abyss.
3:58 a.m.: The abyss stares back at subject.
3:59 a.m.: Subject recalls memory of potentially embarrassing scenario that happened 5 sun cycles ago. We have made plasma copies of this memory, confirming its hilarity for all of time.
4:00 a.m.: “Sleep,” a.k.a. None Moving Quiet Time, is entered by the subject, in which the subject appears to take part in what we have called “mind movies.” (Note the difference between these movies, his awake time “Brain Pictures,” and “Dr. Dolittle 2.”)
5:00 a.m.: Subject’s mind movie settles on subject in classroom full of fellow humans, all much better physical specimens, and with arguably better head hairs.
5:15 a.m.: Subject loses pants in mind movie. All other humans begin to dance around the subject aggressively, although skillfully, surely better than the subject could at least.
5:30 a.m.: Attempting to diffuse stress levels, subject alters mind movie so all other humans also lose their pants. However, all other human’s genitals appear either much larger or much prettier than subject’s.
5:45 a.m.: Arousal awakes subject.
6:00 a.m.: Subject stares into abyss.
6:01 a.m.: Abyss tells subject that subject is making it uncomfortable, and to please stop.
6:02 a.m.: Subject goes back to shorter, smaller seat, and watches “Dr. Dolittle 3.”
7:30 a.m.: Subject reenters None Moving Quiet Time, but doesn’t watch mind movie. This is the closest we’ve seen humans come to time travel, and it’s rather pathetic.
12:00 p.m.: The peaking of the sun awakens subject, who then lets out what our analysts describe as “a sad mouth breath.”
Conclusion: We have little to fear here as a species, so long as we maintain peace with this “Dr. Dolittle.” We predict to begin assimilating into their society and controlling their leaders as early as 2008.
END TRANSMISSION
Luke Strickler is a writer in NYC, and a person everywhere else.
The Humor Section features a piece of original humor writing each week. To submit your work for consideration, send it here.
