 
How To Save The World:

### Part 1 - An Alien Comedy

### By

### Charles Fudgemuffin

Smashwords Edition 1.0.001 (2014)

Copyright 2014 Charles Fudgemuffin

This ebook is the first book in the 'How To Save The World' series of books which are available from various online ebook sellers.

Visit the Charles Fudgemuffin blog for further details, or search 'Charles Fudgemuffin' in any internet search engine.

Table Of Contents

Title Page

Disclaimer

Prologue - The 'Quality Of Life' Proposal'

Part One...

Chapter One - Would You Rather?

Chapter Two - Pranks And Geordieness

Chapter Three - The Nivlax Festival

Chapter Four - The Greater Good

Chapter Five - Bad Karma

Chapter Six - 'I Was Abducted By Aliens And They're Going To Destroy The World'

Chapter Seven - Double Standards

Chapter Eight - Life Snides Eric Off

Chapter Nine - Happy People Don't Question

Chapter Ten - Star Maker

Chapter Eleven - Not The End Of The World

Chapter Twelve - Carrots

Chapter Thirteen - Snatching Defeat From The Jaws Of Victory

Chapter Fourteen - Self-Defence Isn't Snidey

Chapter Fifteen - Living The Dream

Chapter Sixteen - The Plan

Chapter Seventeen - Crossing The Line

Chapter Eighteen - The Dude Who Saved The Earth

Chapter Nineteen - Last Minute Preparation

Part Two...

Chapter One - The Journey

Chapter Two - Everything Will Be Okay In The End

Chapter Three - Sniffless Times

Chapter Four - Same Same But Different

Chapter Five - The Catch-22 Solution

Chapter Six - Don't Be An Ostrich

Chapter Seven - 'I Can Now Reveal...'

Chapter Eight - Five Fingered Freaks

Chapter Nine - Petty Spite

Chapter Ten - Code Names

Chapter Eleven - Ants

Chapter Twelve - Betting On Brazil

Chapter Thirteen - Eric And Elskar

Chapter Fourteen - The Guilt

Chapter Fifteen - An Honest Representation Of Eric's Feelings

Chapter Sixteen - The Magic Banana

Chapter Seventeen - Horniness Without Love Attached

Chapter Eighteen - Fear And Theories

Chapter Nineteen - How To Save The Earth

A Note From The Author

Charles Fudgfmuffin Links

The Legal Bit

The Blurb

The story continues...

Disclaimer

Please note, the 'How To Save The World' books are suitable for ages 18+ and are not recommended for prudes or squares.

Prologue - The 'Quality Of Life' Proposal

Grand Emperor Fel Skarpander took the stage to hushed approval. He stood commandingly at the podium. A buzz of anticipation filled the auditorium as he prepared to begin his speech. TV cameras from media stations all around the planet Fem pointed in expectation.

He cleared his throat and began.

"Fellow citizens of Fem, I stand before you in a time of unprecedented prosperity for the planet Fem. War and confrontation on our planet are now a thing of the past. Famine has not been witnessed for over seventy years. Of the approximately three thousand diseases prevalent in our society one hundred years ago, all but twenty six have now been eradicated. Extreme poverty has been consigned to history, with cases of mild poverty limited to very minor pockets of society. Our mobile phones have more cool features and gadgets than those on any other planet in the galaxy. In summary, ours is close to a utopian lifestyle.

And therefore as compassionate citizens of the galaxy I feel it is our duty to share this enviable quality of life with the rest of the galaxy. Therefore I propose that that is exactly what we do. I propose we bring our coveted lifestyle to as many civilisations as possible. I propose we eliminate suffering from the rest of the galaxy. Just as we have done from our wonderful planet Fem.

In some cases this will involve sharing our medically advanced technologies with those planets not currently as scientifically blessed as ourselves. In other cases this will involve bestowing the benefit of our diplomatically skilled politicians as mediators in disputes on war-torn planets. In other cases the deployment of our economic experts will be necessary in order to stimulate the economies of those planets not quite as fiscally blessed as our own. And in some cases the setting up of trade agreements in order to furnish other planets with our cool mobile phones will be necessary.

And of course, in a minority of extreme cases the 'Quality Of Life' proposal will involve eliminating life from those planets in the galaxy where the level of suffering is simply too great to alleviate. For just as you would free an aged afflicted pet dog from its suffering by putting it down, simply as an act of kindness, surely there are also a few extreme cases where the same course of action, namely the elimination of life, is likewise the kindest course of action to follow with respect to the festering pits of suffering that exist on certain planets throughout our galaxy..."

The Fyraling spy had seen enough and quietly left the hall unnoticed, just as Grand Emperor Fel Skarpander was exiting the stage to unanimous rapturous applause.

Part One...

Earth

Chapter One – Would You Rather?

Planet Earth,

Northern England,

The Lake District...

"Right, I've got one for you," Eric remarked. Eric and his two mates, Monty and Garth, were currently enjoying a game of 'Would You Rather?' "You can have a blowjob off the top five women in the world of your choice..." They had played the game many times before, but never when they were halfway up Mount Helvellyn, which they were now. "...but," Eric continued, "there's a thousand to one chance that one of them will bite your knob off. Would you do it?"

Monty and Garth clearly weren't expecting the finale to Eric's question and they broke out into surprised chuckles.

"And are they up for it as well, are they?" Garth clarified. "Like, it's not a contractual obligation on their part or anything, is it?"

"Ar, nar. They're well up for it as well," Eric confirmed. "In fact that's where the risk of getting your knob bitten off comes from. Just cos they're so horny for you that there's a chance that they'll get so carried away with their horniness that they'll bite it off in the heat of the moment."

"Then I reckon I would, like," Garth remarked. "The risk of getting your knob bitten off would just add to the excitement."

"Eh!? Are you mad?" Monty exclaimed. "I wouldn't, like. Just cos, like... well, there's no need." He shrugged to indicate he thought you'd have to be crazy to even consider it.

"Aye, but it's the top five women in the world of your choice," Eric repeated. "That's, like, any women of your choice in the entire world."

"It's okay. I _am_ actually familiar with the meaning of the term 'the top five women in the world,'" Monty replied, sarcastically. "You don't have to explain to uz what that means."

"Ar, I know. It's just that you don't seem to have grasped how lush that would be," Eric responded. "Like... _any_ women of your choice."

"Aye, I know what 'any' means," Monty reiterated.

"Eh!? So you wouldn't!?" Eric remarked, only now seeming to comprehend that Monty had a firm comprehension of the question.

"Well why take the risk?" Monty shrugged.

"Cos it's the five top women in the world," Eric explained. "And, like, you don't have to have all five blowjobs off the belt. You can spread them out if you want to give yourself a chance to recover."

"Still... there's a chance you might get your knob bitten off," Monty reminded Eric. "Like, surely no matter how lush the women are that's not worth the risk."

"Well, there's a chance that could happen even when normal lasses give you a blowjob," Eric argued.

Monty and Garth laughed. "What sort of lasses do you get blowjobs off?" Garth quizzed.

"Well... none usually, alas," Eric admitted. "But I'm just saying... like, it happens."

"When does that happen, like?" Monty inquired.

"Well... not very often admittedly," Eric acknowledged, "but every time you get a blowjob you're placing a lot of trust in the lass's hands."

"Well actually, you're placing the trust in her mouth, not her hands," Monty corrected. "You're thinking of a wank, not a blowjob."

"You know what I mean," Eric chuckled.

"Well anyway, the chances of getting your knob bitten off in real life are massively unlikely," Monty argued, "whereas odds of a thousand to one are low enough for it to be a chance I wouldn't take."

"A thousand to one would be safe enough for me, like," Eric reasoned. "But I'd have to know beforehand whether it was gonna happen or not, like. Cos if I was lying there thinking, 'I could get my knob bitten off at any moment,' then I reckon I probably wouldn't be able to get a hard on. So I'd have to know beforehand whether I'd been unlucky or not."

"I wouldn't want to know," Garth remarked. "The uncertainty of not knowing if your knob was going to get bitten off or not would just add to the buzz."

"So how low would you go with the odds before you'd say, 'Nar, this is getting too risky, this, like,' then?" Eric inquired.

"Oo, I reckon about two to one," Garth joked. At least I _hope_ he was joking. Anyway, Eric and Monty apparently assumed he was joking cos they laughed quite a bit at this comment.

A brief pause in the conversation then followed which led Eric to suggest, "Are we heading off again, then?" They all felt suitably rested and so headed off again up the mountain. Mount Helvellyn was only nine hundred and fifty metres high, which was no great height by any means as far as mountains go, but it was still a tiring three hour walk to the top, however, so they had only walked another fifteen minutes before Garth's calves would go no further.

"I'm gonna need another rest, like," he announced.

Eric was in quite good shape so his body was all up for pressing on, but his mind was up for another round of 'Would You Rather?' so he quickly agreed to another break.

Monty was his usual laidback self and happy to go along with the majority. "Have you got any more, then, Eric?" he asked.

"Right, well this one can be quite controversial," Eric began, "but I don't understand how, cos in my eyes it's totally straight forward."

"I like a bit of controversy," Monty remarked.

"I don't mean controversial as in a controversial subject," Eric explained. "But it sometimes gets really strong opposite opinions... even though it's clear cut, like, I reckon."

"Right, well what is it is, then?" Monty inquired.

"Aye right, anyway ... there's a bath full of Angelina Jolie's piss," Eric began, setting the scene. "And then there's another bath next to it, full of water ... but then you pour a cup full of a sweaty old tramp's piss into that bath, right. And the dilemma is you've got to sit in one of the baths for ten seconds... which one would it be?"

"You see, I'm not that bothered about piss," Garth remarked. "So, like, if a fit lass wanted to piss in my face I'd let her, so I'd definitely go for the bath full of Angelina's piss."

"Yeah, so would I," Monty agreed. "In fact I'd probably sit in her bath for longer than the requisite ten seconds," he added.

"Aye, so would I," Eric nodded emphatically, before quickly clarifying, "I mean, just for ten seconds, like ... not for any longer. Just for ten seconds," he repeated, perhaps protesting just a little too much. "It's mad, though. When I was in The Cook Islands everybody there went for the bath with the sweaty tramp's piss in it. I was, like, 'Eh! No way, man! You don't understand! You mustn't have been listening properly. It's Angelina's piss versus a sweaty old tramp's piss!' but they were all going on like I was some sort of deviant piss freak." Eric looked quite pleased with his friend's answers. "Aye, it's reassuring to know that yous are on the same wavelength as me, like."

"Have you got your breath back yet, Garth," Monty inquired, "or are we having another round?"

"Ar, I'll need longer than this, like," Garth replied. "That was only a short round."

"Right, I've got another one, then," Eric remarked. "If you could score with any lass you wanted for the rest of your life, or eliminate malaria from the world, which would you choose?"

"I'm not too genned up on my diseases," Garth admitted. "What does malaria do again?"

"It kills loads of people, like," Eric explained. "It's canny dodgy, like, but it's mainly kids that it kills. It's something like ninety percent of all malaria deaths are kids. And then the other ten percent who die are poor Africans. If you're a rich westerner who can afford the drugs then you're usually alright. I mean, it's still totally dodgy, like... I'm not suggesting you go out and catch it deliberately, like ... but it's mainly poor African kids that have to worry about dying if they catch malaria."

"Well you'd have to go for the eliminating malaria option, then," Garth answered, maturely.

"Yeah, I'd obviously go for the malaria option as well," Monty agreed.

Eric started chuckling to himself.

"What about you, then, Eric?" Garth inquired.

"Right, well when I was in Haad Rin there were these two absolutely gorgeously fit Swedish lasses..."

Before he could get any further Monty cut in. "So you wouldn't!?"

"Well, I'll just explain," Eric continued. "There were these two totally fit Swedish lasses who'd been there for a few weeks, and on the last Full Moon Party they were dressed in nurses' outfits, right." Eric paused at this point. "In fact, actually, we should probably all take a few moments to picture the scene ... purely for the purposes of helping to illustrate my story, like."

"Ar, yeah, obviously," Monty agreed. "What other possible reason could there be for imagining two totally fit Swedish lasses in nurses' outfits?" It was a rhetorical question laced with irony.

Eric continued with his story. "And that time the scenario wasn't even to score for the rest of your life. It was just for a one night threesome with those two fit Swedish lasses." Eric paused again for one last memory of the two Swedish lasses. "And _every_ dude went for the threesome, like. Like, and no-one even found it worthy of deliberation. It was that clear cut."

"Eh, that's shocking, that, like," Garth criticised, shaking his head. "So you'd let all those kids die of malaria just for one night of pleasure?"

"One night of _extreme_ pleasure," Eric corrected. "And you see though, we're all halfway up a mountain all knackered out and not feeling very horny, so it's easy to be logical and selfless when you're not feeling horny. But when the two fit Swedish lasses are actually there in front of you dancing on a bar, shaking about all cool and sexy like, then it's a bit harder to worry too much about all the people that'll die."

"I know but still," Garth pressed. "Eliminating malaria ... it's a massive world changing event. It should still be a simple enough decision."

"Well it _was_ a simple enough decision," Eric pointed out.

"Yeah, but in the wrong direction," Garth highlighted.

Eric had set him a trap though, and Garth had walked straight into it. "Right, well Garth, if you're so into saving lives and all that, then for two pounds fifty you can pay for an inoculation to protect a kid in Africa from six diseases. Two pounds fifty... less than the price of a pint. So next time we go out boozing I'll remind you of your priorities."

"Aye, but, er ... it's, er ... not as simple as that, though," Garth stuttered.

"Well, it is, like," Eric insisted. "Two pounds fifty could save a kid's life but you'd rather get boozed up. Not that I'm knocking you cos I would as well, like. The only difference is I'm not a hypocrite about it."

Garth racked his brains to come up with an argument to justify his preference for booze over saving the lives of African kids, and if he had a few hours he could probably have mustered something together, but with only a few seconds it was considerably harder. And with Eric staring smugly at him it only made things harder still.

"So if you think I'm bad for choosing a Scandinavian medically themed fantasy threesome..." Eric continued, pressing home his advantage, "...over saving lives, then imagine how bad that makes you for choosing booze, which let's face it, ranks about fifty leagues below the Swedish option, over saving lives." Eric stared at Garth and shook his head in an ironic mocking manner. "If _you_ can live with yourself..." His voice trailed off as he shook his head some more.

"Ar, but I mean... like, it should be up to governments and stuff," Garth blustered. "And rich people. Not me."

"Aye, well it's easy to be generous with other people's money, like, Garth," Eric argued, "but it's a lot harder when it's your own money."

"Well you don't give money to charity either!" Garth pointed out, going on the offensive.

"Aye but you see, I'm not some self-deceiving hypocrite trying to kid myself that I'm this totally class person who totally cares about the plight of poor African kids when really I'd blatantly rather spend all my money on booze and having a good time," Eric replied. " _I_ openly admit that I'm a selfish snide whereas _you_ feel the need to convince yourself that you're a really charitable person... as long as it's with the government's money and rich people's money." Eric paused for effect. "But not your own money."

"You've ruined the light-hearted atmosphere now, man, Eric," Monty moaned, "with all this talk of malaria and kids dying and stuff."

"Aye, soz," Eric apologised. "Anyway, are we heading off again now?"

So they headed off once again. Hill-walking is tiring work though, especially when you haven't done much training, as was the case with Monty and Garth, so after only another fifteen minutes they were once again starting to feel the burn. And as they had now reached the pool known as Red Tarn which lies just before you start the final stretch to the peak they decided it was the perfect time to stop once again for another round of 'Would You Rather?'

Once again it was Eric who came up with the scenario. "Right, you're walking home one night, right. And then a spaceship lands in front of you and this alien steps out, right. But he looks totally like a human and he's got a totally smiley friendly face, right. And he's, like, 'Ar, if you want to come into the spaceship and have a bit banter on, like, you can, like. But no pressure, like. Either way is fine. If you just want to go home then no worries either, but if you fancy a bit banter on with me and my alien mates then that's sound as well, like."

"So he's a Geordie then, is he, this alien?" Monty smirked, sarcastically.

"Well obviously I'm paraphrasing the alien's words into my own words, but that's the general gist of what he says," Eric explained.

"Well it's a bit unrealistic, like," Garth commented.

"Ar yeah, and of course having to choose between sitting in a bath full of Angelina's piss or a sweaty tramp's diluted piss is _totally_ realistic," Eric countered, sarcastically.

"Well no," Garth admitted, "but I'm just saying."

"Yeah, but you're missing the concept behind 'Would You Rather?'" Eric remarked. "The point of the game isn't to see who can come up with the most realistic scenario. Otherwise I would have asked, 'You're walking home one day and you pass a newsagent. Do you buy a Twix or would you rather go for a Snickers?'"

"I'd go for the Snickers," Monty replied.

"Well that wasn't an actual question," Eric explained. "I was just demonstrating how boring 'Would You Rather?' would be if you made it realistic."

"I dunno, like," Monty disagreed. "I've had some pretty interesting chocolate debates in my time."

"I doubt I'd go in the spaceship," Garth remarked, getting back to Eric's original question. "It'd be too risky. The alien might just be pretending to be friendly when really he wants to kill you or do experiments on you."

"What if the alien looked like Angelina Jolie, though?" Eric inquired, tinkering with the scenario. "Would you be up for a bit banter on in the spaceship then?"

"Ar, yeah," Garth quickly replied. "If it looked like Angelina then I'd definitely go in the spaceship ... but it wouldn't be for a bit banter on."

"Hey, you're obsessed with Angelina Jolie, you, like, Eric," Monty commented.

"I just really admire her talents as an actress," Eric answered. "And like, giving a third of her money to charity and stuff... that's canny impressive, like. And adopting all them orphans and stuff. You can't help but admire someone like that." Just in case any naive trustworthy people are reading this I should probably point out that whilst Eric did actually admire Angelina Jolie's talents as an actress and as a person, if he was being totally honest a big chunk of his admiration was nevertheless based on significantly more shallow motivations than the reasons he quoted.

Monty turned to Garth. "Anyway Garth, so you'd be scared you might get killed ... but if the alien looked like Angelina you'd think, 'Well, I might get killed but it looks like Angelina, so that's alright?'"

"Well, yeah," Garth shrugged.

"Hormones have never been renowned for their logic," Eric pointed out.

Eventually Monty finally got around to answering the question himself. "I think I'd be tempted," he mused. "I mean, even if it was just a friendly looking dude alien. It wouldn't have to be a fit lass. I mean, it'd be a once in a lifetime chance, wouldn't it?"

"Aye, it would, like," Eric agreed.

"I suppose you'd have to take the opportunity," Monty concluded.

"I'd definitely want to, like," Eric replied, "but realistically, I reckon I'd probably bottle it."

"Realistically?" Monty queried. "That's not a word you hear very often when you're having a discussion about alien dudes that talk with a Geordie accent."

Then, right at that moment, something very strange happened which distracted the three friends from their game of 'Would You Rather?' In fact 'very strange' doesn't really describe the thing that happened with any real degree of accuracy. If a slight cold was the equivalent of 'very strange' then the thing that happened would be the equivalent of a worldwide epidemic of really bad malaria.

A spaceship appeared.

No more than twenty metres in front of them.

And it didn't appear by coming down from the sky and landing in the traditional manner.

It just appeared. One second it wasn't there. A couple of seconds later it was.

Monty's mouth dropped. He turned to the others. "Fuck!"

"Fuck!" Garth reiterated.

"Flip!" Eric exclaimed, opting for a more family-friendly exclamation, although his sentiments were nonetheless the same.

After all staring at the spaceship for a few moments, frozen in shock, Garth was the first one to respond. "Quick! Run!" he exclaimed, before turning around and quickly running, paying heed to his own advice. The direction he chose, not surprisingly, was away from the spaceship.

"Flip!" Eric repeated. "Do you reckon that's a spaceship?"

"That big shiny silver thing?" Monty replied, seeking clarification as to what Eric was referring to. Or perhaps he was just being sarcastic.

"Aye," Eric confirmed, going on the assumption that Monty's question was motivated by a desire for clarification rather than sarcasm.

"That would be my guess," Monty remarked.

"Flip, that's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it?" Eric observed. "We were just talking about spaceships and then one appears." On the off chance that he had suddenly developed magical powers Eric quickly came up with another 'Would You Rather?' scenario. "Right, I've got another one, then. Would you rather watch Angelina and Keira having a bit snog on, or would you rather watch those two Swedish lasses in the nurses' outfits having a shower together?"

"Em ... it's probably not the best time to be having a game of 'Would You Rather?'" Monty pointed out.

"Ar I know," Eric agreed. "It's just that we were talking about spaceships and then one appeared, so I just thought I'd try my luck in case it was a day for strange coincidences ... but sadly no famous snogging actresses or fit showering Swedish lasses have appeared so it looks like the spaceship was just a one off coincidence."

"Right," Monty responded, rather bemused by Eric's train of thought at such a unique time like this.

They then stood there in silence for a few more seconds staring at the spaceship with a mixture of shock and awe, before Eric noticed that Monty was slowly shuffling backwards, whilst still facing forwards to ensure he could keep an eye on the spaceship in case it made any sudden movements.

"Where are you going?" Eric inquired.

"I think we'd better run," Monty opined. "Garth had the right idea."

"I thought you said it would be a once in a lifetime experience," Eric recalled.

"Yeah, but what you've got to remember," Monty explained, "is that I'm completely full of shit." At this point Monty turned around and began sprinting off after Garth.

Eric watched him sprint away before turning once again to the spaceship and remarking once again, "Flip!"

And then at this point Eric had a moment of realisation. A bit like the moment of realisation he had on his last holiday. For the past seven years Eric had gone away every winter for six months travelling around the world. He had always told himself that he would only do it for 'two more years' before settling down, but on his last holiday he had experienced a moment of clarity when reality had hit him and it suddenly dawned on him that having a six month holiday every winter was completely, utterly, totally, amazingly class. Much better than normal life. And he therefore realised that there was no way he was ever going to give up his privileged lifestyle in two years' time in exchange for a life of nine-to-five drudgery. He was obviously going to keep on holidaying for the rest of his life.

And the situation he currently found himself in was in some ways very similar to the moment of clarity he experienced on his last holiday. Okay admittedly it perhaps wasn't a perfect match in the similarity stakes, given that realising the excellence of an annual six month holiday is, admittedly, in many ways rather different from stumbling upon a technologically advanced interplanetary vehicle from the distant regions of space. In fact when put like that the two events probably sound completely different and not related in any way, shape or form.

But the point I'm making is that in both cases the reality of the situation hit home to Eric with a sudden forceful life-changing realisation. Up until now the sight of the spaceship had been too surreal for his brain to accurately comprehend. But now his brain had finally caught up with the situation and it suddenly dawned on him that he was standing only metres away from a spaceship.

So as if to demonstrate that the reality of the situation had finally hit home, Eric let out another exclamation, this time upgraded from a "Flip!" to a "Fuck!"

And then, as if to further demonstrate his comprehension of the reality of the situation, he fainted.

Chapter Two – Pranks And Geordieness

Eric woke up to find himself lying in the middle of a bright white room on a portable wheelie bed, like the ones you find in hospitals, with a bit of a sore head, in a mild state of confusion. He wasn't sure if his mild confusion was due to apparently finding himself on an alien spacecraft or a result of a mild concussion from banging his head when he hit the ground from fainting.

He removed the sunglasses he was wearing in order to rub his forehead, but before he got a chance to rub his wounds he noticed that his sunglasses were twisted out of shape. They had obviously bore the brunt of the force when he fainted and his head hit the ground.

"Ar, man!" he exclaimed. "My new Oakley Crosshair sunglasses! Ar, what a gutter!" He had only had them a week so was understandably annoyed. "And I've only had them a week as well," he exclaimed, confirming my narrative. He shook his head to further express his annoyance at damaging his new Oakley sunglasses. "Typical!" he exclaimed, as he shook his head some more, although perhaps in this case his use of the word 'typical' was possibly a little bit inappropriate given the circumstances, as it had to be said that stumbling upon an alien spaceship, then fainting and waking up inside it to find he had damaged his new sunglasses didn't exactly represent a typical day in Eric's life.

He attempted to straighten them with his hands but then thought better of it in case he damaged them further, or worse still snapped the frames altogether. He instead placed them back on his head and was about to have a scan around the room he found himself in when suddenly a green scaly-skinned alien leaned over his head, raised its clawed hands and let out a loud, "Raarggh!"

"Flip!" Eric exclaimed, as his whole body jumped. Once again he was a little slow at fully comprehending the seriousness of the situation. He had trained in Tae Kwon Do for three years though, so his physical reflexes were a lot sharper than his mental alertness and he quickly sprang from the bed. Then in one flowing movement he turned to face the alien, then tipped the bed forcefully against its legs. It struck the alien's shins reasonably hard, forcing it to let out a loud, "Ow!"

Eric followed this up with a reverse back kick into the alien's stomach, causing the alien to double up clutching its stomach in pain, which meant that its head was the perfect height for Eric to do a jump switch kick right in its face. So that was what he did, knocking the alien to the floor.

He then caught sight of another alien entering the room so he instantly adopted a fighting stance and began bouncing on his forefeet. On instinct, he switched from side to side, alternating his stance. The second alien wasn't really close enough for this to be of any sparring benefit, but Eric's logic behind it was that most people don't actually know how to fight so if you dance about on your feet and change your stance regularly it makes you look as if you know what you're doing. This then generally causes your opponent to panic and bottle it as they realise that they might actually be up against someone who at least knows the basics of how to fight. Eric had successfully used this strategy on one previous occasion to avoid a fight, but whether the same strategy would also work on aliens Eric wasn't so sure, but he figured it couldn't do any harm.

He was then about to dance towards the second alien when it began pulling its hands off, which confused and slightly scared Eric, as this was a fighting style he hadn't encountered before. If he had had a few minutes to analyse things he would have concluded that removing your hands probably isn't going to be of much benefit in a fight, so he had nothing to fear (other than the fact that he was on an alien spaceship), but he didn't have a few minutes to analyse things and therefore instinctively became afraid.

But only for a few seconds before he noticed that the alien wasn't actually removing its hands.

It was removing a pair of gloves. It appeared that its green scaly hands were actually just gloves. And beneath the gloves were what appeared to be normal human hands.

The situation then got stranger still when the alien began clutching at its neck. A few seconds later Eric realised that it was removing a latex head covering mask. And beneath the mask was what appeared to be a normal human head.

"Hey, man! What're you doing?" the alien then proceeded to ask. "It was just a trick, man! You didn't have to go hoofing my mate in the face, like."

Eric's mind went into overdrive. There had been quite a lot of information to take in over the last few minutes. "So you're not really aliens?" he finally inquired.

"Well aye, we're aliens," the alien explained. "Well, I mean... to _you_ we are. We're not from Earth, like, if that's what you mean... but we're not aliens to us. _You're_ the alien to us. But what I mean is we're not, like, green and scary. That was just fake masks and fake gloves... just for a laugh, like. You weren't meant to go mental and start lashing out like a crazy radjee. It was just a joke, man."

Eric didn't share the alien's point of view. "Well in my defence, I _had_ just been abducted by aliens. And I _was_ just about to be attacked by a green scaly alien with sharp claws going 'Rarghh!' in my face."

"Aye, but we haven't really got green scaly hands, man," the alien protested. "Surely you should have realised. I mean, how would we be able to fly the ship's controls if we had those green stumpy clawed fingers," the alien argued, pointing at his gloves. "I mean, howay man. It'd be totally awkward."

"Ar, aye. Of course," Eric replied, sarcastically. "It's so obvious now. I feel like such a fool." He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand and let out a Homer Simpson style 'Doh!' to emphasise his sarcasm.

"Well at least you're big enough to admit your mistake," the alien replied, failing to pick up on Eric's not so subtle sarcasm. It wasn't that sarcasm was unheard of on the alien's planet. It was just that his means of communicating (of which more will be explained in due course) was generally pretty accurate at interpreting words, but not always a hundred percent flawless when it came to interpreting the emotions behind those words.

"Well actually I think you'll find I was being sarcastic," Eric remarked, doing away with the need for any emotional translation. "And anyway, if you're all aliens then how come you speak English? And even stranger... you've got a Geordie accent! How realistic!" Eric remarked, with a tone of voice that suggested the opposite. "This is a prank TV show, isn't it?" he suggested, proposing the only logical explanation he could think of for the events of the last few minutes.

"A prank TV show?" the alien repeated. "Ar, why didn't we think of that?" It was then his turn to slap his forehead and let out a 'Doh!' "Ar, we should have recorded it to send to 'Pranks and Gags.'"

"What's 'Pranks and Gags'?" Eric inquired.

"It's like what you were just saying. A comedy prank TV show. Hang on a sec." At this point the alien reached in its pocket for what appeared to be a mobile phone. He pushed a few buttons and a second or so later appeared to be digesting information from the screen. "It's a bit like You've Been Framed," he then responded.

At this Eric was sure they weren't aliens. How could aliens have possibly heard of You've Been Framed? It had to be an elaborate TV hoax.

"So let's just get this straight, right?" Eric remarked. "You're both aliens from another planet that just so happen to speak English, _with_ a Geordie accent... and you also happen to be a big fan of You've Been Framed? Hmm, yes. Not the most believable TV stunt I've ever seen."

"I'm not a fan of You've Been Framed," the alien contended. "I've never even seen it. But if I had I reckon I would probably enjoy it cos it sounds canny good, like."

At this point the first alien, the one that had been on the receiving end of Eric's kicks, let out a groan.

"Are you alright, Azleev?" the second alien asked of his injured friend.

"Ooooorrrrrrghhh," groaned the first alien (who apparently was called Azleev), answering his friend's question indirectly rather than directly.

"I can't believe you hoofed him like that, like," the second alien repeated, shaking his head.

"Look, I'm sorry, man," Eric apologised, "but I've already explained... I thought you were aliens. I didn't realise it was a prank TV show. And I have to say, like, it's a canny reckless prank to play. What would've happened if I'd done a chokehold on your mate? I could have ended up getting done for G.B.H. cos of your daft stupidness."

"Look, I've told you, we really are aliens!" the alien insisted. "It's not a prank. Well yeah... aye, technically it is," he quickly corrected himself. "I'll admit we were doing a trick on you... but not the way you mean. We're not from Earth. We're _really_ from another planet. The scary masks were a joke but the spaceship and everything else is real."

"Aye, of course it is," Eric agreed, sarcastically. "You, an alien... with a Geordie accent. I can't believe I even doubted you for a second."

"This isn't my real accent," the alien explained. "And I don't speak English. That's just the G.O.T. on my mobile phone translating from my own language into your language."

"G.O.T.?" Eric inquired.

"Gift Of Tongues," the alien explained. "It's a bit like Bluetooth. Except that Bluetooth only allows mobile phones to communicate with each other, whereas G.O.T. can analyse brainwaves and translate what you're saying into a language I can understand. And vice versa, so you can understand me as well."

"Well how do you explain the Geordieness?" Eric quizzed.

"Well your brain obviously thinks in Geordie, doesn't it?" the alien explained. "So that's what the G.O.T. picks up. It's obviously not going to be BBC perfect English cos that's not how you speak. It converts my language into your local dialect."

The alien could tell by the look on Eric's face that he wasn't convinced. "Look, I've done a bit of research on Earth and I know you've got loads of different languages. So if you don't believe uz then say something in another language and I'll tell you what you're saying."

"Right!" Eric agreed, accepting the challenge. He figured that the chances were that a TV extra would expect him to say something in one of the more common languages for English people to learn, such as French or Spanish, but Eric knew a bit of Japanese which he was confident would catch the TV extra off guard. "Kono hito wa totemo baka desu. Demo watashi wa sugoi desu." Eric stared at the alien smugly. "What's that mean?"

"This man is very stupid," the alien translated quick as a flash. "But I am better than good, but not as good as excellent."

Eric looked momentarily confused. "Better than good but not as good as..." he muttered to himself. "Ar, right!" he remarked as the penny dropped. 'Sugoi' was actually Japanese for 'great,' so the alien's long-winded 'better then good, but not as good as excellent,' reply threw him for a second. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," Eric acknowledged, once his brain had finally caught up with things. "...although I would generally translate 'sugoi' to mean 'great.' But I suppose 'better than good, but not as good as excellent' means the same thing as 'great.'"

"Ar, right," the alien replied, looking a bit confused. The G.O.T. on his mobile phone had translated Eric's previous sentence back into his own alien language as, 'Yeah, I suppose you're right...although I would generally translate 'great' to mean 'great.' But I suppose 'great' means the same thing as 'great.'' G.O.T. was an extremely useful technological advance with massive benefits when it came to space travel, but it was not without its flaws. "That last sentence came out a bit weird, like," the alien explained, "but even so, I still basically knew what you said. All thanks to the magic of G.O.T."

"Aye but just cos you knew what I said, that doesn't mean you've got some clever hi-tech translation device on your mobile phone, though," Eric surmised. "That just means that by a fluky coincidence you speak Japanese."

"Japanese? Is that the language you were speaking, like, was it?" the alien inquired.

"Well, aye. You obviously know it was cos you knew what it meant," Eric asserted.

"I knew what it meant but I didn't know what language it was," the alien explained. "G.O.T. translates but it doesn't tell you what the original language was. That's not what G.O.T. is about. It's purely a communication tool. Not an educational tool."

"Aye, very funny," Eric remarked, "but the joke's dragging on a bit now, so if you'll just tell uz which way the exit is."

"Look, if you're still not convinced then try something else," the alien suggested.

Eric decided that if the chances of the TV extra speaking Japanese were pretty remote, then the chances of him speaking Japanese _and_ Swedish were extremely miniscule. Admittedly, Eric spoke a bit of both those two languages, but Eric was hardly representative of the English public. By and large most English people were pretty ignorant when it came to learning other languages, other than a few words they picked up at school or on holiday, and Japanese and Swedish weren't generally on the syllabus. Nor were they popular holiday destinations. So Eric figured he'd definitely catch out the TV extra this time.

"Jag heter Eric. Jag är en fotograf," Eric remarked, with a full-on Swedish accent.

"Ar, right. Nice to meet you, Eric," the alien replied. "I'm Jixyl. And if you're a photographer then I'll have to ask you not to take any photographs. Just cos, like, we don't want everyone on Earth finding out about us."

Once again Eric's attempts to catch out who he thought was a TV extra had been unsuccessful. "Ar, I'm not really a photographer," Eric quickly explained. "I'm really a pensions clerk but I haven't got up to that chapter in the Swedish book yet. I only know the words for photographer, policeman and bus driver... and photographer sounds like the coolest job out of those three."

At this point Azleev, the injured alien, managed to stand up and introduce himself. "Hi, I'm Azleev." He offered his hand. "You've got a good kick on you, like. No hard feelings, though. I mean, fair enough cos I can understand that it must have been pretty scary for you."

"Aye, well like I said," Eric shrugged, "soz and all that, but it _was_ your own fault, like."

"Ar yeah, no worries," Azleev agreed. "I'll just have to make sure that if I'm ever gonna freak you out again I wear a stomach pad."

"Aye, soz about kicking you in the stomach, like," Eric apologised. "Is your face alright, is it?"

"Well it's not as sore as my stomach but my nose is bleeding a little bit," Azleev replied.

Eric noticed a tiny spot of red on the alien's nose. "Hmm, I would have thought your blood would have been green, like," he mocked. "What with you being aliens and all that." He raised his eyebrows and his voice was dripping with irony. He looked around the room for a hidden camera but there didn't appear to be any.

"What are you looking for?" Azleev inquired.

"A camera," Eric replied.

"Here, man! How many times do I have to tell you, man!?" Jixyl retorted. He was starting to get a bit frustrated at Eric's scepticism by now. "It's not a TV prank, man! We're really aliens! I translated that other sentence, didn't I?"

"Aye, but I've realised now what's going on," Eric replied. "There must be a multi-lingual translator in the next room and you'll have a radio in your ear or something, and he'll be telling you what I'm saying."

"I've told you, man! It's G.O.T.! Look, you can check my ear!" Jixyl tilted his head towards Eric to let him inspect his ear for a transmitter device. Eric leaned his head forward for a better look but couldn't find any radio-type device on Jixyl's person. He still didn't look convinced though, so Jixyl came up with an idea he hoped would persuade Eric of his sincerity. "I tell you what... I'll switch my mobile phone off, then you'll be able to hear my normal voice."

"Well, if you want, like," Eric shrugged, "but you're just gonna come out with a load of weird sounding gobbledegook, like. But go on then, if it'll make you happy."

Jixyl took his mobile phone from his pocket, pushed a few buttons, then began speaking in his own language. "Hey, I can't understand why he's so sceptical, like," he commented to Azleev. "I mean, I know Earth is a non-contact planet but, like, even so... like, what's so unbelievable about there being life on other planets? I mean, humans would have to be pretty arrogant to think that a universe as big as this would only come up with one planet with life on it." Eric noted that even without G.O.T., Jixyl spoke in perfect English.

"Hmm, well by a strange coincidence it just so happens that your own language is totally identical to English. Hmm, what a coincidence," Eric joked.

"Eh? How's that?" Jixyl asked, looking baffled. "I can totally understand what you're saying." He looked genuinely confused. "Eh? That's a bit mad, like."

"Ar, hang on a minute," Azleev interrupted. "I think I've still got _my_ phone on."

Jixyl tutted. "You daft chump, man, Azleev," he remarked at his mate. "It's a good job I wasn't slagging Eric off, like. Or he might have started hoofing _me_ in the stomach as well."

"Well I don't actually hoof people in the stomach on a regular basis," Eric pointed out, defending himself. "That was just cos I thought I was being attacked by an alien. But I'm not gonna kick off just cos someone slags uz off."

Jixyl then looked momentarily confused again. "Have you got a new phone, like?" he asked Azleev.

"No, I've still got my old Nukol 4460," Azleev answered.

"I didn't know the 4460 had G.O.T., like," Jixyl queried.

"Yeah," Azleev confirmed. "Good phone, the 4460."

"What version?" Jixyl inquired.

"I dunno. Just the black one with silver buttons," Azleev replied.

"Nar, man. What version of G.O.T.?" Jixyl clarified.

"Ar... I dunno," Azleev shrugged. "I'm not a total mobile phone obsessive like you."

"Well it can't be any higher than 1.6," Jixyl remarked, "cos the 4460 is nearly 3.19726027 years old now and version 1.8  didn't come out 'til 2.13150685 years ago." Jixyl was indeed a pure mobile phone obsessive.

"Well whatever," Azleev shrugged. "It's definitely got G.O.T. though. It might be an old version but Eric understood what you said so I must have some version of G.O.T. on my phone."

At this point Eric noticed something weird. Something _really_ weird. The aliens lips were moving, but they were no longer moving in synch with the words they were saying. It was like watching a badly dubbed foreign movie. Only this was in real life, not a movie, which didn't make any sense.

"Flip!" he exclaimed. "How's that happening?"

"How's _what_ happening?" Jixyl replied.

"Your lips are moving out of synch with what you're saying," Eric observed.

This seemed to make perfect sense to Jixyl. "Ar, of course... it must be 1.6 then, cos they didn't introduce lip synching imagery until version 1.8. See I told you," he boasted, smugly.

"Jixyl, man. I never doubted you," Azleev remarked. "All I said was I didn't know what version of G.O.T. I had cos I haven't got a degree in the history of mobile phone statistics and models like you have."

Once again the G.O.T. failed to pick up on the irony in Azleev's voice, so the tone of voice it selected for the translation didn't accurately portray the irony intended. Fortunately though, Eric was astute enough to realise that Jixyl probably didn't possess an actual real degree in the history of mobile phone statistics and models, and it was more probable that Azleev was merely having a sarcastic dig at his friend.

It was also at this point that Eric noticed something else which was rather peculiar.

The aliens only had four fingers.

This was the straw that placed a great deal of pressure on the camel's back, so to speak. "Fuck!" Eric remarked, as the scary realisation that this might not actually be a TV prank show after all started to dawn on him. "You've only got four fingers!"

"Actually, I think you'll find we've got eight fingers, actually," Jixyl retorted. He seemed rather touchy about his digital inferiority.

"Eh, flip! That must be a bit of a gutter, like," Eric opined.

"Well, no. It's not at a gutter at all," Jixyl snapped. "It must be a gutter for you, is it, having to carry around an extra finger. I bet it just gets in the way, does it?"

Eric could tell that Jixyl was a bit sensitive about his lack of a fifth finger. "Ar, soz. Like, I didn't mean any cheekiness by it, like," he quickly apologised. "I just mean, like, it must be a gutter. That's all. Like, for example what do you do when you're playing the guitar and you want to play F add 9?"

"Well F add 9's a rubbish chord in any case," Jixyl retorted, but he was clearly trying to convince himself more than Eric. After all, only a total fool would attempt to deny the aural beauty of F add 9. "Why would you want to play a daft chord like F add 9 when you could play F minor?"

"F minor?!" Eric exclaimed, rather shocked by Jixyl's controversial chordal choice. "You're kidding, aren't you? How can you say a minor chord sounds better than an add 9? F minor's totally depressing!"

"It's just Jixyl, man," Azleev cut in. "Once he gets in a mood he can be a complete miserable git."

"I'm not denying that," Jixyl admitted, "but nevertheless, F minor is still leagues above F add 9."

Jixyl decided that this was the perfect moment to attempt to get Eric to accept the reality of the situation. "Anyway, we've got four fingers. We're not TV pranksters from your planet. We do actually come from another planet billions of miles away. So basically... deal with it. That's the way it is. We're really aliens."

"Fuck!" Eric exclaimed. "This is mental, this, like." He allowed himself a few seconds to take in the situation. "Fuck! I think you are, y'know. I think you're actually _really_ aliens."

"Ar, well great," Jixyl replied, meaning the opposite. "The great musical chord expert has finally realised that we're aliens. Well whoopey-do! Isn't that great?"

"Fuck!" Eric repeated once again. By now any attempt at family-friendly exclamations were well out the window.

He then had a rather scary thought. "Ar, shit!" he exclaimed. "Ar, man!" In fact it was an _extremely_ scary thought. "Ar, nar. That means you're gonna do an anal probe on uz, doesn't it? Ar, gutter." He looked pretty worried at this point.

"Eh?" Jixyl replied, looking as baffled as Eric did scared. "An anal probe? Like, as in... sticking things up your bum and stuff?"

"Aye. Ar... I mean, like, nar! No way! You're definitely not doing an anal probe on uz, like," Eric protested. "I don't mean 'aye' as in 'go ahead, mess with my bum.' I mean 'aye' as in 'that's what aliens do,' but you're definitely not doing an anal probe on me, like." He stared an aggressive stare at Jixyl. "Look what I did to Azleev before. And I promise you, I can beat you up a lot worse than that, like, if you get any anal probe related ideas in your head." He was starting to panic and by now had instinctively adopted a fighting stance.

Jixyl and Azleev glanced at each other with extremely baffled expressions on their faces. "Eh? An anal probe?" Azleev questioned, shaking his head.

"Are you sick or something?" Jixyl added. "Why would we want to mess about with your bum?"

"Well that's just what aliens do," Eric shrugged.

"Course we don't!! You cheeky git!!" Jixyl exclaimed. "Why would we wanna mess about with your bum? That's a proper insult, that, like."

"Ar, well good that you think that way, like," Eric replied, feeling slightly relieved that the aliens didn't seem particularly attracted by the thought of an anal probe, but he still held a bit of scepticism as to whether to trust them or not. "But if this is a bluff and you're really just pretending that you're not into anal probes, when secretly you really are, then I promise you I'll totally kick off big style, like. I don't care what clever hi-tech gadgets you've got. I swear down... I can totally look after myself, like."

"Look, man. Calm down, you daft fool," Jixyl remarked. "I promise you, man... we've got no intentions of doing an anal probe on you. Why would we fly halfway across the galaxy to visit a different civilisation, and then when we get here, like, we go, 'Hmm, how shall we interact with this new civilisation? I know! We'll stick things up their bum!' You're proper mental, you, man."

"Yeah, I promise you... Jixyl's absolutely right there," Azleev agreed. "You don't travel billions of miles just to stick things up people's bums."

"Well you flew billions of miles to wear fake alien masks and scaly gloves and scare the crap out of uz, like ... just for a trick. And that's no more stupid than doing an anal probe," Eric argued.

Jixyl and Azleev looked at each other. They had to admit that Eric had a point. "Aye but playing a funny gag is different," Jixyl defended. "And anyway, it's The Nivlax Festival. That's what you do during The Nivlax Festival. You fly to other planets and play funny tricks on people."

"Well how do I know you don't have a festival of anal probes?" Eric inquired.

"Look, man! We're not the slightest bit interested in any anal-related activities, man," Jixyl insisted. "What's put that idea in your head, like? I mean, how come you're so convinced that we're some sort of sick bum freaks?"

"Well that's just what aliens do?" Eric explained. "Like, in movies and stuff."

"Eh? That's mad, that, like," Jixyl mused, shaking his head. "Why would you make a movie about aliens that do anal probes?"

"So have you got lots of movies about anal probing aliens, then?" Azleev quizzed.

"Well..." Eric racked his brains and realised that he couldn't actually think of any actual movies about aliens with a leaning towards rectal exploration. "Em..." The only reference he could think of for anal probing aliens was South Park. "Actually it might not be movies that I'm thinking of," he admitted. "There's a cartoon though, called South Park, where there's these aliens that come down and give Cartman an anal probe." He felt a little less panicky now that he had realised the source of his fears probably wasn't the most factually reliable source. "But now that I think about it, South Park might not be the most accurate reference tool for alien behaviour," he admitted.

"Aye well I can promise you it's totally _in_ accurate," Jixyl protested.

"Trust us. We're just here for The Nivlax Festival," Azleev responded.

"So for this Nivlax Festival you're saying you fly halfway across the galaxy to play tricks on people?" Eric asked.

"Amongst other things," Azleev replied. "But there's a bit more to it than that."

"Such as?" Eric inquired.

And so Jixyl and Azleev began to tell Eric all about The Nivlax Festival...

Chapter Three – The Nivlax Festival

A few hours earlier:

Earth,

Newcastle Upon Tyne,

Outside the chippy on Chilli Road...

"I've still got his number," Lisa remarked to her friend Natalie. "I just don't think it's a good idea for you to ring him. It's been a few weeks now. You should move on. You can do better than him. That's why you deleted his number in the first place."

"Ar, yeah. I know. I _have_ moved on," Natalie lied. "It's just that it's his mam's birthday next week and I want to get her a present, so I was just gonna ask him for ideas on what to get her."

Jixyl nudged his friend Azleev. "I sense a phone prank coming on," he whispered, nodding over in the direction of Lisa and Natalie.

"Ar, not another phone prank," Azleev whinged.

"Just to get the ball rolling," Jixyl replied. "And keep your voice down. We don't want to give the game away."

Lisa wasn't totally convinced by her friend's explanation as to why she required her ex-boyfriend's mobile number but felt awkward refusing her request. "Well as long as you promise to delete it again once you've asked him what to buy for his mam's birthday," she bargained.

"Ar, yeah. Definitely," Natalie agreed.

"What's your bluetooth name then and I'll bluetooth you his business card," Lisa requested.

"Hot Girl 93," Natalie replied.

Jixyl rapidly, and as discreetly as possible, pressed a few buttons on his mobile phone.

"Right, I'm sending it now," Lisa announced. "Make sure you delete it, though, after you've used it."

"Yeah, of course," Natalie agreed. "Don't worry. I'm totally over him. I just want to get his mam a nice birthday present."

Jixyl nodded to Azleev and then the pair of them hurried around the corner.

"Did you get it, then?" Azleev asked.

"Aye, jacked it no bother," Jixyl bragged. "She's got my number instead of her ex's. This should be a laugh."

"What're you gonna do, like?" Azleev inquired.

"I think I'll just see what sort of message she leaves first before I decide how to reply," Jixyl remarked.

He only had to wait a couple of minutes before Natalie made her first call. After a few rings a voice informed Natalie that Vince, her ex-boyfriend, was unable to take her call at the moment and she should leave a message on his voice-mail after the tone:

" _Hi Vince, it's Natalie. I just thought I'd give you a ring to see how things are going. And maybe I thought it might be nice to meet up some time just to catch up on things and see how we're both doing._

Anyway, just give uz a call back when you get a chance. Bye."

"Hmm, there was a suspicious lack of mention of his mam's birthday present," Jixyl observed.

"Yeah, I noticed that as well," Azleev agreed.

"I have to give her credit, though. She played it very cool," Jixyl praised.

"What reply are you gonna send, then?" Azleev inquired.

"I might wait until she leaves a couple more messages before I get round to replying," Jixyl revealed.

"It'll be cruel to leave her hanging on _too_ long," Azleev remarked.

"The crueller the better," Jixyl contended. "The more upset she gets the more chance there is that she'll start swearing."

"Anyway, do you fancy doing the taxidermist prank next?" Azleev suggested.

"Ar, that always takes too much effort," Jixyl moaned. "I'm in the mood for another phone prank now."

"Just one more then," Azleev begrudgingly agreed, "and then we move on to some real pranks."

And so, Natalie spent the next few minutes glancing hopefully at her mobile phone, without her hopes being fulfilled. And meanwhile Jixyl spent those same few minutes readying his next prank...

A few minutes later the phone in the home of Sydney Rice, a local resident in that area, began ringing.

'That'll be Horace,' Sydney thought to himself as he strolled towards the phone. As you can probably deduce, Sydney was expecting a call from Horace.

"Hello," Sydney greeted as he picked up the receiver.

To his surprise it wasn't Horace's voice that greeted him. Instead it was a robotic monotone voice:

" _Hello and welcome to the adult chat-line for horny robots. Thank you for choosing this service."_

'Eh? Horny robots? What's this?' Sydney thought to himself. 'I didn't choose any horny robot adult chat-lines.' Curiosity, however, got the better of him and he continued listening.

" _Oh! Oh! Wiggle my joystick,"_ the robotic monotone voice pronounced. A confused look appeared on Sydney's face.

" _Yeah! That's it, baby,"_ the robotic monotone voice continued. _"Push my buttons. Turn me on."_

The confusion transformed into a wry smile as Sydney smirked at the absurdity of an apparent adult chat-line catering for horny robots.

" _Oh! Oh! Sizzle my circuitry_ ," the robotic monotone voice encouraged. _"Interface with me, baby. Harder! Harder!"_

The robotic monotone voice only made the whole thing even more absurd. 'This is crazy,' Sydney chortled to himself.

" _Thank you for calling the robot adult chat-line,"_ the robotic monotone voice then concluded. _"This and all subsequent calls charged at £7.99 per minute..."_

This was the point where Sydney's amusement rapidly disappeared and was quickly replaced by extreme anger. "Seven ninety nine per minute!!!" he shrieked. "They can fuck right off!"

Meanwhile, outside Sydney's house Jixyl and Azleev had jacked into Sydney's phone and were currently eavesdropping on his horny robot adult chat-line message via their mobile phones. "Yes! That's the first one!" Jixyl exclaimed.

"Shh! Shh! Keep listening," Azleev instructed. "I need to be ready for the next bit."

" _You may unsubscribe from this service at any time via our website_..." the robotic monotone voice meanwhile revealed. Sydney's mood improved slightly on hearing this news. _"Double you, double you, double you, dot..."_

At this point the line suddenly went crackly. "Fuck! What did it say?" Sydney exclaimed.

"... _dot com,"_ the robotic monotone voice concluded, as the crackle subsided.

"Ar, fuck! I didn't hear what it said!" Sydney screeched, angrily.

" _Or by calling the following number..."_ Sydney suddenly went quiet again. _"Zero seven eight..."_ And then the line suddenly went dead as all Sydney could hear was a loud 'Dooooooooo...' tone.

Sydney slammed the receiver against his leg in frustration. "Fuck! How do I unsubscribe!?!!" he exclaimed. "Fuck! I didn't hear the number! Ar, what a fucking con!"

Outside Sydney's house Jixyl was laughing away to himself. "Well I think it's safe to say that's one down, two to go," he remarked.

"Shh! He's calling someone else," Azleev pointed out. "Shh, I wanna hear this."

Sydney had dug out his latest phone bill and was presently calling the telephone company's pricing enquiries helpline.

After hearing various recorded voices giving him a variety of options and assuring him how important his call was to them, Sydney eventually ended up with a choice of three options, neither of which was relevant to his complaint.

So he tried again. But not surprisingly he once again discovered that 'If you have been the victim of a horny robot adult chat-line scam...' wasn't one of the available options. However, at the third attempt he eventually managed to get through to a real person.

"Yes, I'd like to make a complaint about a message I've just received," he remarked.

"Okay, if you could just give me your name and number," the telephone operator instructed. Sydney did as requested. "And what exactly is your complaint?"

"That I've just received a message from a horny robot adult chat-line which costs £7.99 per minute," Sydney explained, "and I didn't request that message."

"A horny robot adult chat-line?" the operator questioned, sounding quite taken aback.

"Yes, a horny robot adult chat-line," Sydney repeated. "I didn't request it, though," he quickly protested. "Some dodgy phone company is obviously just sending out random messages to random numbers."

"Okay, if you could give me the number of the company that called you," the operator requested.

"Here, man! It was just a message! I didn't get the number!" Sydney snapped, his patience wearing thin. "Here! Why should I have to go through all this shit just cos of your inefficiency in the first place?"

"If you could just stay calm I'd find it easier to deal with your enquiry," the operator advised.

"It's not an enquiry! It's a complaint!" Sydney pointed out. "Look, either some fucking dickhead's signed my fucking number up to some dodgy expensive fucking robot adult chat-line, or otherwise it's some dodgy scam company taking advantage of the incompetence of your security checks. But either way, if I've been charged £7.99 on my next bill then I'm not paying the bill. Simple as that.

And unless yous provide a signature saying that I authorised that message then I'll be reporting yous to the fraud squad as well. And yous won't have a leg to stand on cos I haven't signed anything."

"Look, unless you stay calm and tell me exactly what's happened I'm not going to be able to help you with your enquiry," the operator repeated.

Sydney took a deep breath and attempted to calm down. "Right, well basically either someone has signed uz up to a message service I didn't request, or else some dodgy scam company is sending out random messages to random phone numbers. And these messages cost £7.99 a time," Sydney explained.

"How do you know they cost £7.99?" the operator inquired.

"Cos it said in the message," Sydney explained.

"Ah... well, you see... if you've listened to the message that might present a bit of a problem with regard to getting a refund," the operator declared.

"Here! If that £7.99 is on my bill you'll be hearing from my lawyers!" Sydney threatened.

"It's just that if you didn't request the message then technically you should have hung up straight away," the operator advised.

"Here, how was I meant to know if I'd actually requested it without actually listening to it first?" Sydney pointed out.

"It's just that if you've listened to the message then the service provider may be entitled to make a charge for it," the operator remarked.

Sydney's patience had reached the end of its tether. "Here! Fuck off!" he bellowed. And with that he slammed the phone down.

Meanwhile, outside Sydney's house Jixyl and Azleev were in fits of laughter.

"Har, har! Class!" Jixyl chuckled. "He was completely sucked in, like."

"Yeah," Azleev agreed. "It's excellent how rubbish the integrity of the phone companies are on Earth."

"Aye," Jixyl smirked. "It makes it an absolute doddle for pranksters like us to get a result."

Sydney had in fact not been sent the 'horny robot adult chat-line' message by a dodgy phone scam company. He had in fact been sent it by Jixyl. Minutes earlier Jixyl had simply typed out a text message containing a load of made-up patter regarding a robot adult premium rate chat-line and then sent that message to Sydney's land-line. Then he and Azleev had used the 'piggyback network' feature on their alien mobile phones to simply hack into Sydney's land-line and allow them to listen in to his irate protestations.

"Ar, I've got another idea!" Jixyl announced. "We should ring that operator back and pretend that we're someone else who's had a dodgy phone scam message. Then we should completely lose it with him and totally threaten him and get him all scared!"

"Do you not think that's maybe going a bit too far?" Azleev replied.

"Nar, course not," Jixyl remarked. "If he had that lackadaisical attitude on Fyra then his company would get instantly closed down. All we're doing is teaching him to take phone fraud more seriously in future."

"But if he took phone fraud more seriously it would make it harder for us to play phone pranks," Azleev pointed out.

"True," Jixyl acknowledged, "but he definitely needs teaching a lesson in any case."

So Jixyl set about ringing the telephone operator. Fortunately for the operator though, the maze of automated menus and options proved too tricky for Jixyl to navigate his way through, and so he never managed to play his prank on the operator.

Within a few more seconds, however, Jixyl had the seeds of another prank forming in his head. He nudged Azleev and nodded at a mother and small toddler in the next garden along from Sydney's garden.

"What?" Azleev shrugged.

"I see another prank forming," Jixyl grinned.

All Azleev could see was a small toddler with his mother planting a seed in a plant-pot. "How can we play a trick on them?" Azleev asked.

"Watch and learn," Jixyl boasted. "Watch and learn."

So Jixyl and Azleev hovered about outside Sydney's house until the toddler and mother had finished planting the seed in the plant-pot and returned inside. "Here goes," Jixyl remarked, to his friend. And so he sneaked along into the adjacent garden to put the wheels in motion for his next prank...

A few minutes later, Jamie, the toddler in question, peered out of the window at the plant-pot and was surprised to see a small number of leaves already sprouting up from the soil.

"Mam!" he shouted. "The seed's growing."

"Yeah," his mother replied. "In a few weeks' time you'll be able to see your plant growing up through the soil."

"No, it's growing now," Jamie revealed. "I can see leaves."

"Don't be so stupid," his mother remarked.

"I can," Jamie insisted. "I can see leaves."

His inquisitive mother strolled to the window to see for herself. "It won't start growing for another few..." At this point she arrived at the window and saw for herself the leaves sprouting up from the plant-pot. "...weeks."

"See!" Jamie proclaimed, proud of his rapidly growing plant.

"Eee! How's it growing that quick?" his mother inquired, looking very confused. She quickly opened the door and dashed into the garden for a closer look. The plant-pot looked the same from close-up as it did from through the window. Which is to say that a small number of leaves had already emerged from the soil. "Eee! Michael! Come and have a look at this!" she called inside to her husband. "Michael! Quick! Look at this!"

At that point Jixyl could contain his laughter no more and burst out laughing which drew the attention of Jamie's mother. She looked up at Jixyl chuckling away to himself, then looked down at the plant-pot, then back at Jixyl, and quickly surmised that there was tomfoolery afoot.

"You stupid idiots!" she shouted at Jixyl and Azleev. Then she looked at Jamie and remarked, "Howay, we're going back inside now."

"It's a fast grower, isn't it, mam?" Jamie remarked.

"It hasn't started growing yet," Jamie's mother explained. "It's just them idiots over there being idiots," and she took his hand and marched back inside the house.

"Ar, man. You gave the game away there," Azleev reproached his friend.

"I couldn't help it, man," Jixyl shrugged. "Her face was just so funny. She completely fell for it." He shook his head in disbelief at her gullibility. "Anyway, we had to let her know it was a trick at some point otherwise she wouldn't have swore."

"She didn't swear anyway!" Azleev pointed out. "Think about it... she's not gonna swear in front of her toddler, is she? You should have waited until the toddler was back inside. You've spoilt our run now. We were on a potential triple letter as well."

"You and your triple letters," Jixyl remarked. "You see, it's not all about the word score for me, you know. I'm mainly in it for the fun of playing pranks. Besides, we're still on for the double letter. And we've still got the green scary masks and clawed gloves to come. They're always a definite banker."

"Yeah, I suppose," Azleev shrugged. "Are we heading somewhere more remote first, though? We can't do that one here. There's too many people about."

"Aye, we'll head back to the spaceship, then," Jixyl agreed.

And so the two friends headed back to their spaceship to journey somewhere more remote where they could look for their third victim and thus potentially earn themselves a double letter score.

Chapter Four – The Greater Good

Back on the spaceship with Eric...

"...so how come the plant grew so quickly, then?" Eric inquired, as Jixyl and Azleev finished bringing him up-to-date on their adventures since arriving on Earth. "Did you use some clever alien plant acceleration growth technology on it, did you?"

"No, I just snapped a stalk off a hedge and stuck it in the plant-pot," Jixyl revealed.

"Anyway, that's basically what The Nivlax Festival is all about," Azleev summarised. "We fly to various planets throughout the galaxy and play pranks on people. If you get your victim so angry that they swear then you get the first letter of that planet towards making a word. If you get three people to swear then you get a double letter score. And if you get three people in a row to swear you get a triple letter score.

Then once you've got a few letters you make a word out of the letters and whoever makes the word with the most points wins."

"Ar, we've got a game a bit like that on Earth," Eric mused. "Only it doesn't involve pranks. It involves..." Eric paused.

"What?" Jixyl inquired.

"Ar, just, er..." Eric paused again. "Em... ar, just little tiles on a board. It's called Scrabble."

"Well our version is called The Nivlax Festival," Jixyl replied. "And it involves playing pranks on people on other planets. Not little tiles on a board."

"But I think I should just point out that I'm not usually this childish," Azleev interjected. "I'm usually quite mature and responsible. But it's just sort of a tradition so you have to go along with it."

"And I think I should point out that I _am_ usually this childish," Jixyl added. "But if there's any excuse to be extra childish then I'm all in favour of it."

"Anyway, so did I spoil your triple letter score by not swearing?" Eric inquired. "Just cos I don't normally swear in everyday conversation, but if it helps you get your double letter score then I don't mind saying 'fuck.'"

"It's okay," Azleev replied. "We're still on for a potential double letter score anyway, cos you already said 'fuck' in any case. You said 'flip' at first, but then in the end you said 'fuck.'"

"Did I?" Eric queried. "I thought I just said 'flip'."

"Nar, you definitely said 'fuck'," Jixyl confirmed. "You said it a few times actually. Once just before you fainted and then you said a few more 'fucks' when you finally realised that we were really aliens."

"It must have just been the shock of seeing a spaceship and the shock of meeting aliens from another planet," Eric explained.

"You don't have to explain yourself," Jixyl replied. "We're glad you said 'fuck'. It means we still might get our double letter score."

Eric smirked as he tried to get his head around the bizarreness of the concept of The Nivlax Festival. "It's a weird idea for a festival, like," he remarked, before quickly adding, "It sounds class, though. We should have something like that in England. I mean on Earth." He generally thought of himself as English, rather than an Earthling, but he figured that in the presence of aliens it was probably more appropriate to refer to himself as an Earthling, rather than English. "We've got April Fool's Day, I suppose, but that's a bit small scale compared to what yous do."

"Aye, you can't beat The Nivlax Festival," Jixyl enthused.

"Although I have to say, though... you were a bit sly with that first lass, like," Eric commented. "Like, she obviously really wants to get in touch with her ex-boyfriend and you're just thinking of a funny prank to play on her. I think you crossed the line a bit there cos lasses on Earth get totally upset when they split up with someone."

"They do on our planet as well," Azleev revealed.

"She'll be okay," Jixyl insisted. "She seemed quite calm in the message she left, like. And anyway, I haven't even decided how I'm gonna reply to her yet."

"Nar but, like, honestly... lasses on Earth get, like... _totally_ upset when they split up with someone, like," Eric elaborated. "You shouldn't play tricks on them, like."

"I'm probably just saving her from embarrassing herself," Jixyl argued. "If she had her ex-boyfriend's real number she'd probably just end up leaving him really desperate messages and making a show of herself."

"Mebbees... but I still reckon you should just give her Vince's real number, like," Eric proposed. "Fair enough, she'll probably just make a show of herself but at least then it's her that's making a fool of herself, rather than someone else making a fool of her.

Honestly, man. When a lass splits up with someone on Earth it's a totally big deal to them. They're all, like, 'Oh no! I haven't got a boyfriend! My life's a failure!' Seriously, you shouldn't mess with the feelings of a dumped lass."

"I'm not _messing_ with her feelings," Jixyl argued. "I'm _laughing_ at her feelings. Not messing with them."

"Well, you're doing both really," Eric disagreed.

By coincidence, right at that moment Natalie decided to give Vince another ring. As before he was unable to answer her call and she instead got through to his voice-mail once again:

" _Hi Vince, it's Natalie again. Well I see you haven't rang uz back so you're obviously over uz already which I'm really upset about."_

There was a very noticeable stroppy tone to Natalie's voice. She continued:

" _I can't believe you've moved on already this quickly. It's only been a few weeks. I thought we had something special but obviously I must have meant nothing to you."_

Jixyl began rather cruelly chuckling.

" _I bet you're with that Andrea, are you? You'd better not be. I'll not be happy if you're with that Andrea. You know I don't like her."_

"What did I tell you?" Eric remarked. "Lasses on Earth get really emotional when they split up, like."

" _Anyway, if you suddenly develop a conscience and decide to ring uz you know what my number is, but in case you've already forgotten it's..."_

"You've got to give her Vince's number, man," Eric urged. "She's really upset."

"I haven't got it in any case," Jixyl divulged. "I just edited his business card to my number. I can't remember what his real number actually is."

"Ar..." Eric responded, not knowing what next to say. "Well anyway, definitely don't play any sly tricks on her, like."

"Don't worry. Once I get her to swear I'll send her a message saying she's got the wrong number of something," Jixyl promised.

Azleev figured it was probably a good idea to change the subject at this point. "So anyway, how come you know Japanese and Swedish, then?" he inquired of Eric. "I'm not a total expert on Earth or anything, but I know a bit and I know that they're not two of the most popular languages to learn."

"I spent a few months travelling around Japan a few years ago," Eric revealed. "And I just picked up a bit of the language while I was there."

"And what about Swedish?" Azleev inquired.

"Aye, what made you decide to learn Swedish, then?" Jixyl asked.

"Well partly cos I just think it's really important to take an interest in the world you live in and to expand your horizons and learn about other cultures and stuff, and learning another language is a good way of doing that," Eric explained. "And also, partly cos all Swedish lasses are totally fit." A perceptive smile appeared on Jixyl's face. "Although admittedly, if I'm totally honest," Eric continued, "the lushness of Swedish lasses was possibly more of a contributory factor towards my decision to learn Swedish, rather than all that patter about culture and stuff."

"If Swedish lasses are so fit then you'd think more dudes would learn Swedish," Jixyl suggested.

"I know. I can't understand why it hasn't caught on," Eric agreed. "I mean, in terms of practical use admittedly there's not much point in learning Swedish cos every Swedish person I've ever met has spoke better English than me. But it's obviously not about improving your ability to communicate. It's obviously purely about winning brownie points with Swedish lasses. Like, obviously you don't want to know _too_ much Swedish obviously, cos there comes a point where if you can almost speak it fluently then it stops earning you brownie points, but I've got a long way to go before I reach that point."

"Surely the more you know the better," Azleev suggested.

"Nar, you'd think so," Eric replied, "but it's a bit like walking. If a toddler walks a few steps everyone looks at him and goes, 'Ee, isn't he clever. Look at him walking.'

But if _I_ walk a few steps and go, 'Look at me walking,' everyone goes, 'Well whoopee-do for you. You can walk. Big deal.'

Well that's the same way it works with speaking Swedish. If an English dude can speak Swedish totally fluently, Swedish lasses just go, 'Ar, right. You can speak Swedish. Good on you and all that,' but that's as far as it goes. You don't win any brownie points.

But if they can see that it's a real effort for you and you're really trying your best to speak their language then they really appreciate the effort you're putting in. A total amateur trying his hardest gets more brownie points than an accomplished success.

Plus, if they think you can only speak a little bit Swedish when secretly you can speak it better than they actually realise, then they'll talk about you with their mates in front of you and you can listen in and secretly find out if they like you or not."

"So have you had much success with Swedish lasses, then?" Jixyl asked.

"Well, no," Eric admitted.

"Well it's not getting you _that_ many brownie points then, is it?" Jixyl laughed.

"It gets uz brownie points," Eric argued. "It's just that getting brownie points is just the first stage. You have to put your brownie points to good use and basically I totally waste my brownie points cos of my feebleness at scoring. Like, on the rare occasions when I manage to build up a few brownie points, I generally just completely mess things up."

"Aye, I know what you mean," Jixyl admitted. "I'm like that sometimes as well."

"What are lasses like on your planet, then?" Eric quizzed.

"Pretty much similar to lasses on Earth," Jixyl replied.

"Except they've got four fingers," Eric joked.

"Hey, man! What's your big obsession with fingers, like?" Jixyl snapped. "And anyway they've got eight fingers, not four."

"Soz," Eric apologised, feeling quite surprised by Jixyl's over-the-top reaction.

Azleev was a lot calmer about the subject, though. "Apart from having four fingers the lasses on Fyra are pretty much the same as Earth lasses... just from what I've read about Earth lasses," he remarked.

"Fyra?" Eric noted. "Is that the name of your planet, like, is it?"

"No, our planet's called Fudgemuffinwobblesplutter," Jixyl sarcastically replied. "Even though you'd clearly just asked Azleev a question about our planet, he randomly then just decided to start discussing lasses from a previously unmentioned planet, just to confuse things."

"That's sarcasm, isn't it?" Eric correctly observed.

"Yeah," Azleev answered. "Basically, whenever you see Jixyl's lips moving, that's your clue that he's being sarcastic."

"So are yous called Fyralites?" Eric inquired.

"Fyralings," Azleev revealed.

"Fyralites sounds better," Eric opined.

"Well sorry for our name not complying with your chosen preference," Jixyl retorted, once again sarcastically, "but we're called Fyralings, not Fyralites."

"I was just saying..." Eric shrugged, defensively.

"Anyway, Fyra _ling_ lasses are pretty much similar to Earth lasses," Jixyl remarked. "They're into snogging and spanking just like I'd imagine lasses on Earth are."

Eric blinked. Then he replayed Jixyl's comment in his head, unsure as to whether he had heard it correctly. "Spanking?" he finally queried, his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Jixyl replied, matter-of-factly.

"Ar, you total flukes!" Eric enthused.

"Do you like spanking, like?" Jixyl asked.

"Well aye, obviously," Eric replied. "Well I mean... a bit, I suppose," he added, suddenly trying to appear more casual. "Like, it's alright, like. But I'm not a complete pervert or nowt. But, like, I like it the right amount for a normal person. But I'm not obsessed with it or anything."

Jixyl looked a bit baffled. "Well... eh? How would spanking make you a pervert, like?" he asked. "Spanking's perfectly normal. It's, like, way down the list on the scale of perviness. My lass regularly spanks me, like, and I often spank her back."

"Ar, aye. Soz. Obviously for yous if it's the equivalent of kissing then spanking must obviously not be pervy at all," Eric acknowledged. "But I meant, like, in England... I mean Earth, if you're into spanking too much then you're probably a bit of a pervert. But I'm not into it too much. I'm just into it the right amount for a normal person.

Like, obviously I _like_ it. I'm not denying that. Like, say if I was dancing with a totally fit lass in a pink bikini wearing high heels... but not old fashioned tarty high heels... like, cool modern high heels which were sort of platformy at the back rather than full on high heels... and say the song 'Smack That' came on and she started thrusting her bum at uz then I'd obviously start spanking her." Eric suddenly raised his hands in that gesture that Italian footballers make after they have just fouled an opposition player but want to pretend to the ref that they haven't touched him and it was actually a fair tackle. "... I mean, just as a purely hypothetical example, of course... obviously. But I'd never initiate it, though. I'd respond to a thrusted bum but I wouldn't initiate it."

"It sounds like spanking's a big deal to you but like we say, it's perfectly normal for us, like," Azleev remarked.

"Eh... it's canny mad, that, like," Eric commented. All this talk of spanking being regarded as unpervy on Fyra took his thoughts in the following direction. "So, like, if someone asked you if you preferred bums or baps then, I suppose it would obviously be baps for yous then, would it?"

"Aye, of course," Jixyl replied, seemingly surprised that Eric even had to ask the question.

"You see bums rate canny highly in my scale," Eric replied, "but I suppose if spanking's the equivalent of kissing, then bums must be canny downgraded on your planet."

"Eh? So do you prefer bums to baps, do you?" asked Jixyl, incredulously.

"Well no, not in general," Eric clarified, "but it depends what you're talking about. If you're talking about feeling then aye, mebbees bums cos obviously once you start getting explorative then your fingers are really close to greater things.

But if you're talking about tongue action then I'd obviously go for baps. Cos I'm, like, not really into licking bums." After a moment's thought he added, "Actually I probably would quite enjoy it... bum _cheeks_ , that is," he quickly clarified. "Obviously I'm not talking about bum _holes_." He raised his hands once again in the guilty Italian footballer gesture. "Urgh," he then quickly added. "But anyway, it's just that I've never done any bum licking cos if I said to a lass, 'Can I lick your bum?' she'd think I was a total pervert."

"So what about baps?" Jixyl inquired. "Can you ask a lass if you can lick her baps and she'd be alright with that?"

"Well no, obviously not in everyday life," Eric explained. "But I'm talking about, like, once you've scored and you're back to the bedroom and the kit's coming off. You can obviously lick her baps then. You generally don't even need to ask. Things just progress to it... but I wouldn't lick her bum. She'd think I was a proper freak."

"Ar, right. In the bedroom," Jixyl replied, nodding thoughtfully. "Ar, aye. Yeah, we can obviously do that as well. I thought you meant as everyday behaviour for a second there, like. But, like, we can lick bums in the bedroom, like. But why would you want to when you can lick baps and minges instead?"

Eric got defensive again. "Ar, aye. I'm the same." He made the guilty Italian footballer gesture once again. "Ar yeah, when I said I'd probably enjoy it I didn't want to give you the impression that I've got some sort of sick secret bum licking fetish. Ar, nar. I didn't mean nowt like that. I was just describing what's acceptable and what's a bit freaky. That's all. I wasn't meaning I'm secretly into bum licking. Ar, nar. Baps all the way for me, like, when it comes to tongue action."

"Even ahead of minges?" Jixyl asked.

"Hmm... I generally don't venture south unless I've had a few beers," Eric remarked. "Although admittedly I generally never score unless I've had a canny few beers, like. So aye, actually I would say minges have got more appeal than baps, like. But that's not to diminish the appeal of baps, though. I meant that as a compliment to minges rather than a criticism of baps."

"Yeah, total agreement there, like," Jixyl agreed.

Eric was more interested in learning about alien protocol and procedure though, than in discussing his own preferences. "So is it the same on Fyra for scoring?" he asked. "Like, do you need a canny few beers down you before you've got enough bottle to score, or can you just score when you're sober?"

"Alcohol's something we use in Chemistry on Fyra," Azleev explained. "You don't drink it to give you confidence. We've got a drink called diquintenol though, which sounds quite similar. It's an intoxicating beverage like alcohol."

"Actually we've got a few with uz if you want to try some," Jixyl offered.

"Hmm..." Eric pondered. He couldn't deny he was tempted, but at the same time he couldn't help thinking that trying an alien intoxicating beverage would probably be a very foolish decision. It was a dilemma, and he felt like he had a little cartoon angel on one shoulder and a little cartoon devil on the other shoulder. The angel was saying to him, 'Drinking an intoxicating alien drink probably isn't the wisest course of action to take... especially when you've only known the aliens for a few minutes.' On the other shoulder the devil was saying to him, 'Don't stress about it.'

Eric considered the two options. On the one hand his common sense was in total agreement with the advice of the cartoon angel, but on the other hand Eric reasoned that common sense could be quite a boring attribute. 'Hmm... don't stress about it,' he thought to himself. 'That's a very compelling argument.' After weighing up the options Eric decided that the cartoon devil had the loudest voice. "Aye, I could do, like," he eventually replied.

So Jixyl went to a cupboard and produced a few glasses of clear liquid, which he and Azleev then proceeded to drink. Eric then followed suit and did likewise. It wasn't the most pleasant drink Eric had ever tasted and what made it even worse was that he didn't seem the slightest bit drunk. By now, however, his curiosity was piqued so he downed a couple more glasses, again with no noticeable effect.

"Are you sure this isn't just dodgy-flavoured water?" Eric inquired. "Just cos I'm not getting any effect, like. I mean, admittedly I can totally take my booze, like, but you'd think I'd have got _some_ effect by now... even allowing for my exceptional drinking skills." In reality Eric wasn't that great a drinker and this was just mock bravado.

"Are you sure?" Azleev questioned. "You should definitely be feeling quite intoxicated by now."

"Aye, I'm totally DQed up, me, like," Jixyl remarked. Jixyl had also had a fair few glasses of the liquid.

"DQed up? Is that what you call it?" Eric asked.

"Aye. That's basically our equivalent of getting drunk," Jixyl explained. "Well... getting diquintenoled up is the correct term, but you'd just generally say 'DQed up,' like."

"Well anyway, whatever you call it... it's not working on me, like," Eric remarked.

"Eh, you must have some different biological make-up to us then," Jixyl surmised, "cos after drinking that much you should definitely be well on your way to being DQed up, like."

"Yeah, it's strange, that," Azleev added, ponderously. "Do you reckon we could maybe test your blood to check why it doesn't work on humans?"

Eric suddenly became defensive. "Ar, I dunno about that, like," he replied. Having his blood tested was getting too near to the scenario of alien experiments in his eyes, so that was the reason behind his reluctance.

"Just out of curiosity," Azleev explained. "And we wouldn't need much. Just a thimbleful would be enough."

"It's just, like... this isn't a devious elaborate scam, is it?" Eric asked, coming clean about his suspicions. "Like, you haven't just given uz some dodgy-flavoured water and then gone, 'Oo, that's strange. We better test your blood,' just as a scam to get some of my blood to do strange alien experiments on it."

"Look, man. You were unconscious a few minutes ago. If we wanted your blood we could have just taken it then," Jixyl pointed out. "Look, if you don't want to give us some of your blood then no worries, but Azleev is into his science and all that, so it'd be canny interesting for him if you did, like. But if it's a problem then no worries."

"Don't worry. It's a totally painless procedure," Azleev added, in an assuring tone of voice.

Eric was still a bit reluctant but didn't want to come across as unnecessarily awkward, so felt pressured into it. "Well okay then," he finally agreed, "but only if we go for a fly about in your spaceship."

"Yeah. No worries," Jixyl agreed.

But then Eric had another thought. "Ar, nar. Hang on though. You've been drinking, haven't you? Yous won't be able to drive."

"It's alright. We'll just stick it on autopilot," Azleev reassured Eric.

"Yeah, I mean... give us some credit," Jixyl retorted. "We obviously wouldn't use manual after we've been drinking."

Eric still wasn't convinced. "But, like, even on auto-pilot, is it not a bit dodgy to be flying after a few drinks? Like, what happens if the computer goes dodgy?"

"All spaceships are fitted with a back-up computer," Azleev explained.

"But what happens if the back up computer knacks up as well?" Eric quizzed.

"Well then we'll crash," Jixyl replied, matter-of-factly.

"You see! That's what I mean, man!" Eric exclaimed. "Drink driving is purely dodgy, man!"

"If the computer goes dodgy then being sober isn't gonna help," Azleev explained. "We'd crash whether we've been drinking or not."

"Here, man. So, like, do you think if we were flying along and then the computer stopped working, do you think we'd have time to fix the computer before we smashed into the deck, like?" Jixyl mocked. "Without the computer we'd smack into the deck within about four seconds, man. There's no way we'd have time to fix anything... drunk _or_ sober."

"Well thanks, like," Eric replied. "You're really filling uz with confidence, like."

"But don't worry though. The chances of the primary computer _and_ the back up computer both going on the blink at the same time are virtually non-existent," Azleev assured Eric. "I've never known a crash in my lifetime. You get the occasional incident with Senkafartens but this is a top of the range Plorske spaceship and the reliability on Plorskes means they basically never crash. My grandad reckons it happened once in his lifetime but that was before they invented sub-molecular techno-bots."

"Yeah, don't worry... it's, like, got an infinitely small chance of happening nowadays," Jixyl added. "But if it makes you feel more comfortable then we'll neck a couple of anti-diquins before we set off."

"I take it that's something that sobers you up, is it?" Eric guessed.

"Aye," Jixyl confirmed.

"Canny fluky, that, like. Having something you can take to just sober you up just like that, like," Eric remarked.

"Are you up for it then?" Jixyl inquired. "Shall we take you for a fly about?"

"Will people not see us though if we fly about, though?" Eric asked.

"Nar, the spaceship's fitted with light refraction displacement technology," Jixyl explained. "Basically it senses when there's sentient beings in the vicinity and then takes images from the other side of the ship and then relays them directly into the sentient being's brain so that in effect they basically see right through the spaceship. It's effective from twenty metres and upwards."

"Ar, that'll be how I didn't see your spaceship earlier on, and then it just suddenly appeared," Eric realised.

"Aye, it works excellent like," Jixyl replied. "Don't worry. No-one'll see us.

"Is that light refraction technology wotsit not a bit dodgy, though?" Eric asked. "Like, messing with people's brains... is it totally safe, is it?

"It's okay... in ninety three percent of cases there's no serious side effects," Jixyl revealed.

Eric, however, didn't share Jixyl's opinion that a ninety three percent safety record was anything to brag about. "Ninety three percent! So you're saying there's a seven percent chance of serious side effects!?" he shrieked. "You used it on me earlier on!!!"

"You're being too negative, man. There's a ninety three percent chance that you'll be completely fine," Jixyl assured him.

Eric, however, didn't find this statistic very reassuring. "Aye but that's still a seven percent chance that'll something dodgy'll happen to uz!" In fact he was clearly freaked out by this news.

"Seven percent's nothing, man," Jixyl argued. "It's excellent odds."

"I flipping can't believe you, like!" Eric retorted, obviously not sharing Jixyl's endorsement of the odds. "Seven percent!! It's not that excellent."

"Chill, man. He's just winding you up," Azleev then revealed, with a wry grin on his face.

"So what are the odds really?" Eric inquired.

"There aren't any odds," Azleev answered. "It's _totally_ safe."

Jixyl started laughing. "Nar, man. Soz. Just having a laugh. Aye, it's totally safe," he chuckled.

Eric joined in with the chuckling, although his chuckling was more an expression of relief rather than an expression of mirth and merriment like Jixyl's chuckling.

After the fun of Jixyl's little trick had worn off, Jixyl and Azleev took a couple of anti-diquins and then took the blood sample from Eric, which as promised was only a thimbleful.

And then they were ready to go for the fly about that Eric had requested.

"So where d'you wanna go, then?" Azleev asked.

"Can we go to Suzuka Circuit?" Eric suggested.

"Where's that?" Azleev inquired.

"In Japan," Eric replied. "I'm a big formula 1 fan and Suzuka's a classic track."

"Aye, no worries then," Jixyl agreed. "I'm warning you mind, the spaceship's so fast that it probably won't feel like flying to you. It'll just seem like teleporting cos it's so fast."

"Ar, cool!" Eric enthused.

So the three of them strolled through to the control room and sat themselves down.

"Here we go. Hold tight," Azleev cautioned. He pressed a few buttons and the spaceship began to rise slowly upwards. Eric was slightly disappointed to discover that there were no futuristic engine noises to accompany their ascent – in fact the take-off was pretty much silent – but he was still nonetheless totally buzzing with excitement.

"Flip!" he exclaimed. "Ar, this is gonna be class, this, like!" Azleev then pressed another button and the spaceship began to accelerate slowly forward until they were going about sixty miles per hour.

"Canny impressive, eh?" Jixyl remarked.

"This isn't top speed, though, is it?" Eric inquired, slightly bemused.

"Top speed?" Jixyl replied, his eyebrows raised to indicate Eric would have to be a complete fool to even suggest such a thing. "Course not! We've had eighty m.p.h. out of it in a low-gravity atmosphere."

"Eighty miles per hour?" Eric repeated, looking shocked and confused. "That's rubbish, that, like."

"Just ignore Jixyl. He's just having a joke," Azleev then explained, with a sly smirk on his face. "We'll hit top speed in a few seconds."

"I thought it seemed a bit slow, like," Eric acknowledged. Azleev then pressed another button and in a matter of seconds they were at Suzuka Circuit, and in a further ten seconds they had completed the landing procedure.

"Flip! That was mad, that, like!" Eric exclaimed. "How come we didn't get flung out of our seats with the force of the acceleration?" he asked.

"The inside of the ship is fitted with an anti-grav field," Azleev explained.

"Ar, cool!" Eric enthused.

And then, within another minute or so, he was outside the spaceship and standing on Suzuka Circuit. Due to the time difference it was dark and there was nobody about, but the darkness didn't diminish Eric's excitement in the slightest.

"Ar, class! Suzuka Circuit!" he beamed. "What a total buzz! I'm standing on Suzuka Circuit!"

"It's just a track," Jixyl shrugged, looking slightly puzzled at Eric's excitement and enthusiasm.

"Aye, but it's Suzuka Circuit, man!" Eric explained.

"Ar, Suzuka Circuit!" Jixyl replied, with mock enthusiasm. "Ar, you hadn't mentioned it. Ar, right. Class! Get in!"

At that moment they were standing at the 'S' bends, but Eric wanted to visit the rest of the track.

"Can we go to Spoon as well?" he asked, like a little kid visiting Disneyland.

"Where's that?" Azleev inquired.

"It's just the other side of the track," Eric replied. "It's probably about a mile away."

"Well, is it not just the same as this part of the track, like, is it?" Jixyl questioned.

"Nar, course not," Eric remonstrated. "Spoon's sort of spoon shaped, whereas the S Bends are sort of S shaped."

"Ar, it's spoon-shaped! Ar, get in! Totally exciting!" Jixyl mocked.

"If you were a formula 1 fan you'd understand," Eric replied.

But Jixyl and Azleev decided to humour Eric and so after a brief discussion as to how to get there they nipped back into the spaceship and went to Spoon. Once there, Eric's excitement was just as big as it had been at the S Bends.

"Ar, class! Spoon!" he exclaimed.

"Ar, class!" Jixyl repeated, sarcastically.

Eric bent down and touched the track. He had been to the Australian Grand Prix a few years earlier and touched the track at Melbourne, and that had been a total buzz, but to touch Spoon at Suzuka Circuit was a bigger buzz again.

"Flip! I've touched Spoon!" he enthused.

"Can we go now?" Jixyl requested.

So after a few more minutes they headed back into the spaceship.

"Where d'you wanna go next?" Azleev inquired.

"Somewhere a bit more exciting this time, though, eh?" Jixyl requested.

"More exciting than Suzuka Circuit?" Eric queried. He placed a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hmm... that's a tough one."

"Like, somewhere that's, like, a natural wonder or something," Jixyl advocated. "Just cos places like racing tracks on obscure planets aren't really that interesting for us."

"Well, we could go to Mount Everest, I suppose," Eric suggested.

And so they did. And as they hovered above the peak of the highest point on Earth, Eric was almost as excited as he had been when he visited Suzuka Circuit. "Ar, is there any way we can get out and stand on the top?" he inquired.

"No, the sudden massive increase in altitude would kill you," Azleev explained. "Your body couldn't handle such a rapid change."

"Ar, gutter," Eric grumbled. "That would have been a story to tell the grandkids, like."

A surprised expression suddenly appeared on Jixyl's face. "Have you got grandkids?" he asked. "How old were you when you had kids, like?"

"Ar, nar. I didn't mean literally," Eric explained. "I haven't got grandkids, obviously. It's just an expression. I just mean it would have been something to brag about."

"You can't tell anyone about tonight," Azleev instructed. "Earth is a non-contact planet and we'd get into loads of trouble if we broke that situation."

"I thought going to non-contact planets was what The Nivlax Festival was all about," Eric queried.

"Well, yeah... it is," Azleev acknowledged. "But I mean... well, we're only meant to play tricks on people. We're not meant to befriend them and take them for a fly about in our spaceship."

"Ar, right. Ar well... I wasn't gonna tell anyone anyway," Eric agreed. "Just cos if I said, 'Ar, I flew to Everest last night in a spaceship,' everyone would think I was a mental freak. So don't worry, I'm not gonna tell anyone."

Eric spent a few more moments staring down at Everest before a thought suddenly entered his head.

"Ee, man!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I've just remembered! I'm meant to be meeting this lass later on. Ar, man. I'm gonna be totally late. She'll be in a right strop now."

"Well we can head back now if you want," Jixyl offered.

"Ar, I dunno," Eric replied. "I should, like, cos lasses go in a right strop if you stand them up. But on the other hand I'm gonna be late now in any case, so I might as well keep flying about and seeing more cool places."

Eric had only seen the lass in question a couple of times previously, so although she seemed sound enough, he nevertheless reasoned that flying around in a spaceship currently topped his priority list right now.

"We should probably be heading off in any case," Azleev remarked. "If we head off now we've still got time to have one last shot at getting our double letter score."

"Ar, gutter," Eric shrugged, the disappointment evident in his shoulders. "Ar, fair enough, then."

So after a brief discussion as to where he wanted dropped off they headed back to Mount Helvellyn. Eric would ideally have preferred to have got dropped off at the car park at the start of the Mount Helvellyn hike, but Jixyl and Azleev explained that this would create too great a risk of their spaceship being spotted by multiple witnesses. And besides, the car park probably wasn't quite big enough to fit the spaceship anyway, so they landed once again at the flat bit of land next to Red Tarn just below the peak of Helvellyn.

A few seconds later Eric emerged from the spaceship and walked a metre or so before looking back at Jixyl and Azleev, and raising his hand in a sort of cool acknowledgement. Jixyl and Azleev responded by giving him an uncool wave back.

"Actually you don't wanna be waving, like," Eric advised. "That's more like what old untrendy people would do. Just do what I did and raise your hand sort of nonchalantly." He raised his hand once again to demonstrate and Jixyl and Azleev returned the gesture, not looking quite as cool as Eric but nevertheless looking slightly less uncool than they did a few moments earlier when they waved.

"Right, then. Well cheers for showing uz Suzuka and Everest and all that," Eric thanked. "And, like, if you're ever on Earth again then we'll have to meet up again for a few beers. Well... a few beers for me and a few diquintenols for you."

"Yeah, definitely," Jixyl agreed.

"Anyway, nice meeting you," Azleev added, "but next time if you could maybe try not to start things off by kicking uz in the stomach it'd be appreciated."

"Aye, soz," Eric chuckled.

"Actually Azleev..." Jixyl remarked, as an idea appeared in his head. "You should give Eric your Nukol 4460... just so we can keep in touch."

"Do your mobile phone's work all the way across the galaxy, like?" Eric inquired.

"Aye," Jixyl replied. "Some parts of the galaxy you don't get very good reception, though. But on Earth we've been getting class reception, like."

"I'm not giving him _my_ phone," Azleev objected. "Give him yours."

"Well I would but I've already got a good phone," Jixyl reasoned, "whereas you could do with an upgrade so you might as well give Eric your old 4460 and then get yourself a new one."

"Nar, I like my 4460," Azleev protested. "Besides, mine's on contract, whereas yours is just Pay As You Go."

"But yours hasn't even got G.O.T. 2.0, man!" Jixyl argued. "How can you manage without lip synching imagery?"

"I'm not fussed about lip synching imagery," Azleev insisted. "It's just what I'm used to."

Jixyl tutted. "I can't believe you can walk round with that antique and not feel embarrassed by it, like."

"It was a good phone in its day," Azleev remarked.

"Aye but its day was 3.19726027 years ago," Jixyl smirked. "Here then, Eric," he remarked, as he removed his mobile from his pocket. "You can have mine... seeing as how Azleev is being a tight wad." Eric's eyes widened at the prospect of the generous gift of alien technology. "There's just one condition, though. Don't go showing it around to everybody. Like we've said, Earth's a non-contact planet at the moment so we don't want loads of people sussing that there's loads of other inhabited planets in the galaxy."

"Ar, no worries," Eric agreed. "I wouldn't have showed it to anyone anyway. Cos like I said, if I started going on about aliens, people would think I was mental and I don't want people to think I'm mental, like."

"Sound then," Jixyl replied. "I'll just run you through the features first, though." He firstly showed Eric how to work the G.O.T., then he showed him how to get on the G.I.N., but cautioned him not to use that very much as it was a total rip-off and he only had five hundred credits (roughly equivalent to about ten pounds) left on the phone. Jixyl then ran Eric through a few of the phone's other features but it had so many that in the end he just decided to show Eric how to bring up the internal instruction manual, so that he could learn how to use the features himself.

Finally, Eric was all clued up on his new phone. "So, like, totally cheers, like," he remarked, gratefully. "I totally appreciate you giving uz your phone, like."

"No worries," Jixyl shrugged. "The new Zekon Trav 72 came out the other day, like, so I fancy getting one of them in any case."

"Ar, right. Well anyway, sound meeting you and all that," Eric remarked.

"Aye, sound meeting you as well," Jixyl replied. "It's just a shame we couldn't give you an anal probe." By now Eric was sufficiently over his paranoia to realise that this was a joke.

"Yeah, sound meeting you," Azleev agreed, patting Eric on the back, in the style of someone sticking a piece of paper to someone's back with a comedy phrase written on it along the lines of 'Kick Me.'

Eric then set off on the hike down Helvellyn, looking back and giving them another nonchalant hand raise as he began his walk. Jixyl and Azleev once again returned the gesture, this time with a bit more coolness, then headed back inside the spaceship. When Eric got to the twenty metre mark he spent a few seconds moving his head backwards and forwards, marvelling as the spaceship disappeared then reappeared several times due to the wonders of light refraction displacement technology. He then remembered, however, Jixyl's joke from earlier on about it being ninety three percent safe and whilst he probably believed Azleev's claims that this was just a gag and it was actually totally safe, he nevertheless got another slight pang of paranoia and therefore decided to stop messing about and make his way down the hill.

Jixyl and Azleev peered out of one of the spaceship's viewing interfaces and watched Eric head off into the distance. When he was almost out of sight they looked at each other with smiles on their faces.

"Do you feel guilty?" Azleev asked Jixyl.

"Not at all," Jixyl responded, shaking his head. "You have to consider the greater good."

"Yeah, that's what it's all about," Azleev agreed. "The greater good."

Chapter Five – Bad Karma

Eric found walking down Helvellyn a lot easier than it had been walking up. Partly due to the effects of gravity but also because his body was totally full of adrenalin from the excitement of his encounter with the aliens. He spent the first few minutes of his descent with a big smirk on his face, sort of in a trance as the strangeness of his night started to sink in. Then after about ten minutes he decided to give Monty and Garth a text.

' _Thanks for waiting for uz, you snides,'_ he texted.

Monty and Garth were currently in a pub at the bottom of Mount Helvellyn enjoying a pint and a game of pool. They had decided that the best course of action was to wait for Eric in the safety of a pub, rather than hang about on the mountain.

They were pleased when they received his text, as it seemed to suggest that Eric was still alive, but at the same time they were a bit nervous about replying for fear of discovering what had happened to him. They eventually sent back the following reply:

' _You should have ran away like we did. Are you okay?'_ They were happy with this reply as it placed the blame for Eric's predicament back on himself and thereby excluded themselves from any blame, if indeed anything had happened for which blame was relevant, which they didn't as yet know.

' _Yeah, I'm not coming back though,'_ Eric texted back. _'It turns out that the aliens are a species of Angelina Jolie look-a-likes so I'm just gonna live on their planet.'_

Monty and Garth were pretty sure this was a joke but then again a couple of hours earlier they were pretty sure that they weren't going to encounter an alien spaceship so they weren't quite sure what to think. They decided to text back, _'Is that a joke?'_

' _I got to visit Suzuka and Everest,'_ Eric texted back. He had toyed with the idea of stringing them along but decided the truth was impressive enough and couldn't restrain himself any longer from bragging about his amazing adventures.

' _Suzuka? Is that where they make the bikes?'_ Monty texted back.

' _Nar, it's where the Japanese Grand Prix is,'_ Eric texted back.

' _Seriously? You went to Everest?'_ Garth texted back.

Actually, it's probably easier to forego traditional grammar and just list what they texted to each other:

Eric: _Aye, it was class, like. I'll tell you about it when I get to the bottom._

Garth: _Okay. No worries._

It was almost as if they knew the narrator had decided to change his writing style in anticipation of a long-winded text conversation and they had therefore deliberately decided to conclude their text conversation just to spite him.

Back at the pub Monty wanted Garth to give Eric a ring to further probe him about his alien encounter as he was too impatient to wait for Eric to arrive. Garth was at first reluctant, as he was on a special T-mobile tariff which only cost him 3p per text, and the penalty for this was that it cost 40p per minute per call, but eventually Monty persuaded him that given the amazingness of the situation 40p per minute was more than worth paying.

Unfortunately though, Eric had at this point lost his signal so they had to wait for him to arrive at the bottom of the hill anyway and therefore decided to treat themselves to another round of drinks.

After another forty minutes or so, Eric made it back to the bottom of Helvellyn and strolled into the pub. The pub was empty apart from his two mates who were over at the pool table.

Eric strolled over to greet them. "I've got one for you..." he announced. "Your mate gets abducted by aliens... would you rather run away and leave him, or would you rather stay and try to help him?" In reality Eric was too exhilarated from the excitement of the last few hours to be annoyed at his friends and was merely pretending to be annoyed.

"Soz, but we didn't think there was anything we could do," Garth explained. "You should have ran away like us."

"Yeah, it wasn't as if we could have knocked on the door of the spaceship and said, 'Excuse me, can we have our friend back please?'" Monty reasoned.

"Actually I'm glad you didn't cos I've had a class few hours, like," Eric boasted. "I got to see Everest!"

"Everest!" Monty exclaimed. "Was it good?"

"Aye, class!" Eric enthused. "It reminded uz of Jurassic Park."

"Everest?" Garth inquired, looking slightly baffled. "How's Mount Everest like a load of dinosaurs?"

"I just mean when they turn around and the dinosaurs are standing there, and they're, like... flip!!!" Eric explained. "Well, that's what it was like for me with Everest. I looked down and I was, like... flip!!!"

"We should have come with you," Monty remarked.

"Aye, you should," Eric agreed. "You missed out big time, like. Honestly, this is how class it was... if you asked uz would I rather have a night of fun and frolics with Angelina Jolie or fly over Everest in an alien spaceship..." Eric stopped to ponder for a moment. "Actually that example doesn't work very well," he conceded, "but it was still really good, though."

"Aye, we've had a good time as well," Monty replied. "I'm winning 4-1... and Garth only won his frame cos I potted the black."

"It's this cue," Garth protested. "It's got a rattle." It has to be said that Monty and Garth's pool playing exploits didn't seem quite as impressive as Eric's recent spaceship-based adventures.

"Anyway, d'you mind if we head off?" Eric suggested. "Just cos I'm meant to be meeting that Rachel lass and I'm gonna be late now. And I'm already in the bad books cos I bombed her out on Thursday as well."

"Well basically, you're already in the bad books now, so you might as well get your money's worth and have a few frames of pool first," Monty suggested. Monty completely loved pool. If the aliens had abducted him he would probably have asked them to take him to a pool hall for his request.

"Nar, at the moment I'm only _totally_ in the bad books," Eric explained, "but if I'm any later I'll be totally _utterly_ in the bad books, so I'd rather just be totally in the bad books rather than totally _utterly_ in the bad books."

Monty and Garth quickly finished their drinks then the three friends headed out to the car park.

"What are you going to say to that Rachel lass, then?" Garth inquired, as they began their journey back to Newcastle.

"Just tell her, 'Sorry I'm late. I got abducted by aliens and went to Mount Everest,'" Monty suggested, tongue in cheek.

"Yeah, honesty's always the best policy," Garth agreed, ironically.

"I tell you what's a gutter," Eric replied. "I'm normally totally honest with her – well, with everyone – but on Thursday we were meant to be going to town to see some film, but I was recording a song and I was totally into it and I didn't want to interrupt the creative flow, so I texted her and said I had a bit of a headache, so could we make it another night. But that was, like, the first time I've given anyone any patter in months... but now it's come back to haunt uz coz if I make up another excuse now she's gonna start to think I'm always full of patter."

"Does she not think that anyway?" Monty asked, sarcastically.

"Well yeah, probably," Eric admitted, "but at the moment she probably thinks my patter is just jokey patter, rather than fake dishonest patter. Like, I mean hopefully she realises that when it comes to serious stuff I'm normally totally honest. Just cos I reckon that's the easiest way to live your life and keep things simple. Lying can be a right stress," Eric explained. "But now cos I lied on Thursday I'm in a pure double stress now cos she's gonna blatantly know if I lie to her two times running." He shook his head in regret. "I tell you... that's probably why I got abducted," he went on. "It'll be bad karma punishing uz for lying on Thursday. My bad karma's deliberately putting uz in a situation where I can't tell the truth and I have to lie again, just to purposely teach uz a lesson for being full of patter on Thursday."

"Aye that's what I thought as well," Monty agreed. "When I saw that spaceship I thought, 'This'll be to teach Eric a lesson for lying to that lass the other day.'"

Eric smirked. "Actually, guess what the real reason was why I got abducted," he replied.

"They didn't do an anal probe on you, did they?" Monty inquired.

"Nar, but that crossed my mind as well for a worrying moment," Eric admitted, "but nar... it was cos they've got this festival of pranks where they go to other planets and play tricks on people."

Monty and Garth chuckled at the weirdness of Eric's revelation.

"So what tricks did they play on you?" Garth asked.

"They put on these green scary masks and these scaly gloves and went 'Raarrrggghh!' to scare uz, and then pulled the masks off and went, 'Nar, man. It was just a trick.'"

"So they had Geordie accents, did they?" Monty mocked.

"They did actually..."

And so as they headed back to Newcastle, Eric told Monty and Garth all about his experiences over the last couple of hours until his mates were fully up to score on everything that had happened.

Chapter Six – 'I Was Abducted By Aliens And They're Going To Destroy The World'

When Eric finally made it round to Rachel's house later that evening, he decided that his best course of action was to place all the blame for his late appearance on Monty's shoulders. And so he told Rachel that he and Garth had opted to climb Helvellyn, whereas Monty had already scaled Helvellyn a couple of years ago and had therefore decided to attempt a different hill instead. Eric and Garth had made it up and down Helvellyn according to timetable, but Monty had underestimated the distance and difficulty of his alternate peak and had therefore taken a lot longer than planned, hence the reason for Eric's lateness.

"Well why didn't you just ring uz then, to let uz know you'd be late?" Rachel inquired.

"I didn't have a signal," Eric explained. "It's out in the middle of nowhere, man."

" _I_ had a signal when I went to the lakes last year with the lasses from work," Rachel countered.

"Well mebbees your network is better than mine," Eric shrugged.

"Yeah and it's funny how you had a headache on Thursday as well, isn't it?" Rachel remarked, suspiciously.

"Well it might have been funny for you but it wasn't funny for me," Eric remonstrated, pretending that he hadn't noticed the ironic tone in Rachel's voice. "I hate having headaches. They're completely non-humorous in any way, shape or form."

"I was being sarcastic!" Rachel snapped.

"Look, man. I'm sorry," Eric shrugged, in a very unapologetic tone of voice. "But what could I do? Monty was driving so we had no choice but to wait for him to get back. It was either that or start hitch-hiking."

Eric was quickly starting to realise that Rachel wasn't going to fall for his made up story so he gradually began to consider the option of telling her the truth. He couldn't get away from the possibility though, that if Rachel was sceptical about a story involving Monty climbing a different hill, then there was every chance that she was going to be possibly even more sceptical about a story regarding Eric getting abducted by aliens.

In the end he decided he had no choice, though. Rachel didn't seem in any mood to discuss the 'alternate hill' story any further so Eric finally decided he had nothing to lose. If it turned out that Rachel didn't believe the truth then he was no worse off in any case as she didn't believe his lies either. Plus, he reasoned he could show her his newly acquired alien phone to prove his story. He'd no doubt feel a little bit guilty about breaking his promise to Jixyl not to show the phone to anyone else, but right now his priority was curing Rachel of her unjustified huff.

"So do you not believe uz, then?" he asked her.

"It's just that it's two times running now that you've had an excuse," Rachel replied, "and you have to admit... you _are_ full of patter."

"Aye, but only daft comedy patter," Eric defended. "When it comes to serious stuff I always make a clear distinction between when I actually mean what I'm saying and when I'm just making daft stuff up."

"So was your story about it being Monty's fault serious patter or made up patter?" Rachel asked.

"Well actually that was neither," Eric admitted. "That was just a lie."

"I can't believe you!" Rachel snapped. She shook her head in disbelief.

"Do you mean you can't believe uz as in 'you find me untrustworthy' or as in 'you're shocked by my behaviour'?" Eric asked, seeking clarification of Rachel's outburst.

"Both!" Rachel snapped, giving him a fiery glare.

"But there's a good reason why I didn't tell you the truth," Eric insisted.

"Aye... cos you're full of patter!" Rachel replied.

"Well, yes," Eric agreed, "but with a good reason."

"Which is?"

"Well... before I explain I just want to say that you probably won't believe uz," Eric replied, "so before you lose your raj wait until I've finished explaining everything cos I can prove what I'm going to say, right?"

"Look, I'm not even interested," Rachel shrugged, pretending not to be bothered, even though she was blatantly totally bothered. "If you didn't want to see uz again I'd rather you were honest enough to admit it, rather than just making stories up."

"I was abducted by aliens," Eric suddenly revealed.

Rachel gave him a funny look for a few moments. "You're not even funny," she grunted.

"Look, I don't blame you for not believing uz, coz I didn't even believe it at first... and it was actually happening to me, whereas you're just hearing about it... but I can prove it." Eric removed his intergalactic mobile phone from his pocket. It looked very much like any top of the range phone you would find on Earth. Well perhaps a little bit smaller, and a little bit cooler, but other than that very similar indeed.

"A mobile phone?" Rachel quizzed, looking confused. "And that proves you were abducted by aliens, does it?" It has to be said, she didn't look very convinced.

"Aye, cos it's got this feature on it called G.O.T., which means Gift Of Tongues, and that means I can understand any language." Eric hoped that Rachel's expression would become more curious but his hopes were in vain. "So if you speak something foreign to uz and then I'll tell you what you said and that'll prove that this phone can translate stuff and that'll prove that it was given to uz by aliens."

"How about I try speaking common sense," Rachel suggested, sarcastically, "cos that's certainly foreign to you."

"Nar, howay man," Eric persisted. "Just say something in a different language and I'll translate it."

"You can get computer programmes on Earth that do that," Rachel pointed out. "You don't need alien technology to translate languages."

"Yes, but I mean, like... I'll just _know_ what you're saying," Eric explained. "I won't have to type it into the phone for a translation or anything like that. I'll just understand what you say straight away... just by listening to you."

Eric persisted but Rachel wasn't willing to play along so he had to decide on a different strategy.

"Right then. If you're being awkward about it then I'll put a DVD on and select a foreign language," he proposed.

As luck would have it there was already a disc in the DVD player, namely The Empire Strikes Back, so Eric selected Chinese and then pressed play.

Chinese kanji appeared against a black background.

"A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..." Eric translated.

The kanji disappeared and the famous Star Wars theme tune began to blast out of the speakers. A few moments later more kanji began to scroll up the screen.

"Episode Five \- The Empire Strikes Back," Eric translated, once again with one hundred percent accuracy.

"You're not even funny," Rachel dismissed, but Eric detected the tiniest begrudged smile fighting to show itself at the sides of her lips.

"Look, I can understand that you're a bit sceptical," Eric conceded, "cos admittedly that wasn't G.O.T. It only translates spoken words, not written stuff. That was just me cos I know the introduction to Star Wars anyway even without G.O.T., so I tell you what... I'll put on a daft women film and I'll pick any scene at random and I'll translate that."

So Eric quickly flicked through Rachel's DVDs until he found Dirty Dancing, and inserted it into the DVD player. Then after choosing a scene at random he selected the Chinese language track and began translating.

Rachel couldn't help noticing that the characters were apparently speaking English and that Eric appeared to be simply repeating what they were saying. "That was English," she remarked, after a few seconds. "All you're doing is repeating what they're saying."

"Ar, aye. I forgot. The G.O.T. will work on you as well so I won't need to translate," Eric realised. "But anyway, it only sounded English cos of the G.O.T. If I'd switched my G.O.T. off they would have been going 'ang zang bashi' or something. I mean... you saw uz select Chinese."

"Well the DVD's probably just faulty," Rachel surmised.

"It's not, man. It's the G.O.T.," Eric insisted.

"Hmm... let uz think," Rachel pondered. "Did that sound English cos the DVD player's faulty or was it because Eric got abducted by aliens and they gave him a mobile phone which can translate foreign languages? Hmm... I'm not sure. In fact, yeah... actually, now that I come to think about it... maybe you were abducted by aliens."

"It's a pity Azleev didn't give uz his old Nukol 4460 instead of this Zegron GX25," Eric reflected. "Cos the old 4460s don't have lip synching imagery so you would have been able to see that I wasn't lying."

"What are you on about?" Rachel asked, looking completely baffled, not to mention slightly annoyed.

Eric pressed 'pause' on the DVD. "That was how I realised they were really aliens," Eric explained. "They were talking via G.O.T. so at first I thought they were just regular Earth people playing a trick on uz... but the old 4460s don't have lip synching imagery, you see, so I noticed that their lips were moving out of synch with what they were saying, so that was when I realised they must be aliens."

Rachel stared blankly at Eric. By now the confusion/annoyance ratio had slid from fifty fifty to eighty twenty in favour of confusion. "You've been taking drugs, haven't you?" she eventually asked. It was technically a question but it was actually delivered in the tone of voice you use when you're making a statement rather than asking a question.

"Nar, course not," Eric protested. "I had a Red Bull earlier on before I hiked up Helvellyn, but that's all."

"Then I think you've been spiked," Rachel proposed.

"I haven't, man," Eric insisted. "Look, it's perfectly simple... I was abducted by aliens, but they were friendly aliens so it's okay. They played a trick on uz at first by pretending to be scary but then after that they were totally sound. And they gave uz a phone which translates other languages so now I can understand what anyone says no matter what language they're speaking." Eric then had a quick afterthought. "Ar but, like, I'm not meant to show the phone to anyone, so don't tell anyone I told you."

"You've definitely been spiked," Rachel repeated. "Or maybe you've got altitude sickness."

"Altitude sickness from climbing Helvellyn?" Eric disputed. "It's only nine hundred and fifty metres high, man. You don't get altitude sickness until three thousand metres."

"Well you're the exception," Rachel remarked.

"Look at the label, man," Eric persisted, thrusting the mobile phone in Rachel's face. "Zegron GX25!" He looked at Rachel as if he expected the Zegron label to suddenly convince her of his truthfulness but his expectations went unfulfilled. "There's no such make as Zegron on Earth, is there? It's obviously an alien make."

"Ar yeah, obviously," Rachel replied, sarcastically.

Eric spent the next few minutes continuing with his attempts at persuading Rachel of his alien adventures earlier that day before finally realising that his efforts were doomed to failure. And so he eventually switched off the Dirty Dancing DVD.

But as he packed the DVD into its case he noticed that an episode of some American 'Jerry Springer' type programme was showing and by coincidence the subtitle for the episode was 'I Was Abducted By Aliens And They're Going To Destroy The World.' Eric's eyes lit up. He turned to Rachel and noticed that there was also curiosity in her eyes, although her curiosity was based on the coincidence of such a programme being shown just as Eric had gone delirious, whereas Eric's curiosity was based on genuine interest and concern regarding what the studio guest might have to say.

"And what did they look like, these aliens?" the TV show host asked, with a noticeable cheeky grin on his face.

"They looked just like you or me. Just like regular humans," the studio guest revealed. "And at first they pretended to be real friendly guys, so I let them take a sample of my blood. But then I figure one of the aliens must have felt kinda guilty cos then he admitted to me that they were planning to eliminate life from Earth."

"Flip!" Eric exclaimed. He glanced skywards. "The sly little gits." He shook his head. "They did the same trick on me. They pretended to be friendly with me as well." He slapped his palm against his forehead. "Ar... I can't believe I fell for that. Ar, crap. They're gonna kill everyone and it'll be partly my fault cos I let them take my blood."

"And did you take any photos when you were on the spaceship?" the TV host inquired.

"No," the abductee admitted. "I didn't happen to have a camera with me."

"So do you have any evidence of your abduction?" the TV host asked.

"Yes," the abductee replied. "This!" He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a faint small star-shaped red mark on his upper arm. "This is the scar they left when they took the blood sample. It was much brighter when I was first abducted but it's faded a bit now."

"I don't know how I ever doubted your story," the TV host smirked, sarcastically.

"Flip!" Eric exclaimed. "I wonder if I've got a scar as well." He nervously rolled up his t-shirt and was shocked to discover an identical scar to the one worn by the abductee, the only difference being that Eric's scar was considerably brighter. "Flip!" he exclaimed. "Ar, crap. Ar, man. They're gonna kill everyone... and it's my fault!"

"Eric, I know you like your practical jokes but the lengths you've gone to this time is taking things a bit too far," Rachel remarked.

Eric didn't seem to be listening. He had more important things on his mind.

"Look, I'm sorry and all that but I need to go and see Monty and Garth," he apologised. "They saw the spaceship as well. They weren't abducted or nothing cos they ran away like bottlers... but I need to speak to them." He put his coat on and made his way down the stairs.

Rachel was initially going to tell him he couldn't just make up a load of patter and then leave, but the truth was she was starting to think that Eric was a bit of a chump and wasn't worth losing her cool over. "You're a total fool, you, like, Eric," she shouted after him. She decided that was the best thing to say. She didn't want to let him think that she was bothered, but at the same time she wanted to establish that if he was trying to make her look like a fool then he had failed and it was in fact him which was the fool.

"Sorry and all that," Eric shrugged, "but, like, the world might be gonna end and all that, so I have to make that my priority." He shrugged his shoulders once again. "Soz, like."

And so he left the house and made his way to Monty's to discuss the recent developments.

Chapter Seven – Double Standards

From the moment Eric arrived at Monty's house, Monty could immediately tell by the frantic expression on Eric's face that he had important information to tell him, and given that he had spent the afternoon on an alien spacecraft he guessed that the important information would most likely be connected to Eric's alien encounter.

"Did you see the TV programme!?" Eric asked, with a wide-eyed excited face. "The one that was like Jerry Springer, but not Jerry Springer. Some rip-off programme."

It has to be said that Monty wasn't expecting Eric's excitement to be connected to a junk TV show. "No, surprisingly enough I've been more concerned about your alien adventures this afternoon," Monty replied, as they walked through into his living room where Garth was already sat. "Although I must admit it _was_ a toss-up between that and watching Jerry Springer."

"No, man. It wasn't Jerry Springer," Eric repeated, "but it was that type of programme. And it was going on about the aliens. And it turns out that they're not really friendly after all. That was just a bluff. They're actually gonna kill everyone on the planet."

"Ar, no," Monty remarked. "And if it was on a Jerry Springer type programme then it _must_ be true."

"No, man. You don't understand. There was this dude on who'd been abducted by aliens and everyone thought he was just some mental freak but he wasn't," Eric explained. "All the same stuff happened to him that happened to me. Except one of his aliens must have felt guilty cos he admitted that they were actually just pretending to be friendly when really they were planning on destroying the world."

"How do you know he wasn't just a weird nutter?" Monty asked.

"Cos the exact same stuff happened to him that happened to me, man!" Eric repeated.

"Like I said, how do you know he wasn't just a weird nutter?" Monty joked.

"Here, man. Seriously, the exact same stuff happened to him that happened to me," Eric re-repeated.

"So he went to Everest as well, did he?" Garth inquired.

"Well not the _exact_ same stuff," Eric admitted, "but basically it followed the same general pattern. The aliens pretended to be friendly and then they took a sample of his blood. Then the only difference is that at the end one of his aliens felt guilty and confessed why they were really here."

"What did _your_ aliens say they were here for?" Garth inquired, taking the situation more seriously than Monty.

"They said it was some alien festival where they fly to other planets and play tricks on people," Eric answered. "But now that I think about it, it does seem a bit unrealistic that they would fly billions of miles across the galaxy just to play tricks on strange alien species."

"Strange?" Monty questioned. "Speak for yourself."

"Hey, man. It's serious, you know," Eric proclaimed. "They're gonna kill everyone unless we can think of a way to stop them."

"And you're certain?" Monty asked.

"Yes, man! That's definitely what their plan is," Eric insisted. "That abducted dude on TV even had the same scar as me from where they took his blood." Eric rolled his sleeve up to reveal his scar. "It's definitely gonna happen."

"Ar, well it's good to see you're being so optimistic," Monty remarked, sarcastically.

"Well I'm just telling it the way it is," Eric shrugged. "It's definitely gonna happen so that's all I'm saying." He then took a moment to ponder upon his statement. "Well actually, I don't mean it definitely _will_ happen. But I mean, they're definitely gonna _try_ to make it happen. They definitely want to kill us all. But hopefully there might be a way for uz to stop them."

Garth wasn't quite as optimistic as Eric. "I dunno, like," he disagreed. "They're gonna have advanced alien technology, light years ahead of the technology on Earth, so the chances probably don't look that good."

"Ar, but I've just thought..." Eric exclaimed, his eyes suddenly lighting up with hope. The hope in his eyes in turn inspired hope in the eyes of Monty and Garth. "...they gave uz one of their mobile phones. Maybe that has some feature on it we can use."

Monty and Garth's eyes suddenly returned to their previous gloomy appearance once again. "Hmm... I wouldn't be _too_ optimistic," Monty suggested. "Your new mobile phone might have a decent mp3 player on it, and possibly a quality mega-pixel camera, but an mp3 player and a camera _possibly_ aren't the most effective weapons to have in an intergalactic war. Besides, they're probably gonna have some powerful Death Star type contraption which can blow up planets... so in the battle between your mobile phone and the Death Star, my money's on the Death Star."

"It's got that G.O.T. feature though, that I was telling you about," Eric persisted, clinging to his foolish optimism.

"Ar, our worries our over then," Monty replied, sarcastically. "When they're about to blow us all up you can just say, 'Stop! Or I'll translate what you're saying into different languages!' That'll scare them."

"I might send them a text," Eric shrugged, his face finally looking resigned and gutted.

"What're you gonna say?" Garth inquired.

"You could say, 'Don't attack Earth cos we've all moved to Mars so you'd just be wasting your time if you attacked Earth. Honest,'" Monty joked.

"Hmm, actually that's not a bad idea," Eric mused.

"I don't think it's _that_ great an idea, like," Monty replied. "Somehow I don't think they'd fall for it."

"No, I don't mean literally tell them we've gone to Mars," Eric explained. "I just mean we could use trickery and deception to mislead them. Sly deviousness is one of the best weapons you can have in a war."

"But possibly not quite as good as a big massive Death Star," Monty maintained, carrying on with his Death Star fixation.

"Yeah but look at the Ewoks," Eric replied. "They defeated the Empire using sticks and stones."

"Well, yeah... but sticks and stones aren't the same as sly deviousness," Monty pointed out. "Sticks and stones are physical objects, whereas sly deviousness is a character trait."

"Yeah, but what I'm saying is that..." Eric realised that he wasn't sure what he was saying. "Anyway, the point I'm making is that sly deviousness is probably the only weapon we've got, so we might as well use it."

"Fair enough," Monty agreed. "So we send them a sneaky text which misleads them and buys us time. Is that what you're suggesting?"

"Yeah," Eric confirmed.

"Right, so what text message are you going to send then, to throw them off the scent?" Monty asked.

Eric thought for a few seconds. Then a few more seconds. Then a few more. "Actually I might just send them a text saying, 'You fucking sly little evil fucking twats. I know what your fucking snidey little fucking evil plan is, you fucking gits.'" He wasn't too happy about the prospect of being killed and although his initial defence mechanism was to cling to false hope, the anger and emotion had finally built up to the point where he could keep it in no longer.

"And how's that gonna trick them?" Monty inquired.

"It won't," Eric conceded. "But realistically I've just admitted to myself that basically there's nothing we can do, so basically there's no point wasting time with bluffs and stuff. I might as well just have the satisfaction of telling them what I think of them and letting them know that I've sussed their game."

"Ar, it's a bit shit, this, like," Garth interjected. His emotions had likewise just reached the point where they had begun to accept the bleakness of the situation.

"Aye, it's a gutter, like," Monty agreed.

"It's a gutter and all that," Eric concurred, "but at least the fact that everyone else on Earth is going to die as well at least makes it a bit less scary."

"Ar, that's nice, like," Garth remarked, meaning exactly the opposite.

"No, I don't mean it like that," Eric replied, defensively.

"What do you mean, then?" Monty asked.

"Well, I mean obviously if I had a choice between just me dying or everyone on Earth dying I'd obviously not want everyone else to die as well," Eric explained. "But seeing as how they _are_ going to die, it sort of makes uz feel that at least I'm not the only one."

"Ar, that's nice," Monty mocked. "I'm going to die, but looking on the bright side... at least billions of other people are going to die as well."

"I'm probably not explaining it very well," Eric admitted. "I just mean that when a load of people are in a predicament together it's sort of comforting."

"Yeah, 'Phewf, I take great comfort from the deaths of seven billion other people.'" Monty joked.

"No I don't mean it like that." Eric still wasn't explaining himself very well. "I just mean that, like, when I was in Korea for example I was stuck in this town called Yeosu on my own and all the hotels on the map didn't seem to exist, so I was wandering round for ages in the rain thinking I was gonna end up kipping rough and I was on my own so it was a bit stressful.

But then another time when I was in Noosa in Australia I couldn't find anywhere to stay but that time I was with this lass, so having another person to share the experience with made it less stressful."

"So what experience did you share with that lass, then?" Garth asked, suggestively.

"The experience of not being able to find a hostel," Eric answered, pretending not to notice Garth's suggestivity.

"Was she fit, like?" Garth asked, getting to the point.

"Well yeah, but that's not really relevant," Eric rebuffed.

"So did you share any other experiences with her, then?" Garth probed.

"Well yeah, but not the type of experiences you mean... alas," Eric replied, finally succumbing to Garth's line of questioning. "Anyway, here man! The Earth's gonna get destroyed and you're just being a perv! We need to focus on the aliens and forget about fit lasses in Australia."

Monty had a bit of a chuckle. "She must have bombed you out, then, did she?" he asked. "Just cos you seem a bit touchy about it."

"I'm touchy about the Earth getting destroyed," Eric clarified. "Not about getting bombed out by a lass in Australia."

"Ar, so she _did_ bomb you out, then?" Monty quizzed.

"No, man." Eric was starting to get a bit flustered. "The reason I'm not touchy about getting bombed out by her is because she didn't bomb uz out..."

"Ar, so yous got it on then?" Garth asked.

"No, man!" Eric snapped.

"Well what then?" Garth inquired.

"I didn't try anything on with her," Eric explained. "That's why she never bombed uz out. But if I had of tried anything on she probably _would_ have bombed us out... so that's why I didn't try anything. So that's basically the story. Right. Can we focus on the aliens now?"

"It's more fun winding you up about this lass in Australia to be honest," Monty smirked.

"Aye but having fun shouldn't be the priority at the moment," Eric highlighted. "The priority should be deciding what to text to Jixyl and Azleev."

"The way I see it," Monty opined, "is that in all likelihood we're almost certainly gonna die, so we might as well just not stress about the aliens and just enjoy the last few weeks, or however long it is, of our lives and have a bit fun before we die."

"Aye, you're right, I suppose," Eric shrugged. "Ar, I know! Maybe I should ask them how long it is until they're gonna kill us all."

"Yeah, it'd be nice to know," Monty agreed.

So Eric typed out the following message on his alien mobile phone:

' _Look, I know that you were just pretending to be friendly the other day and that secretly you're going to kill everyone, so I was just wondering what sort of timetable you're working towards. Just cos I've got a few grand in the bank and if we were gonna die in a couple of weeks' time then I'd rather spend it all now having some fun, rather than just waste it. But if there's still a few months or a year or whatever before we die then I'd rather not blow my money just yet. Thanks. If you could let uz know as soon as possible._

Cheers.'

He ran it by his friends who laughingly agreed to it, then pressed send. Almost instantly he regretted sending it.

"Ar, man! I've just had a dodgy thought!" he cried. "We've properly messed up, here, like."

"How's that, like?" Monty asked.

"Cos mebbees they weren't gonna kill everyone until mebbees a year's time or whatever," Eric replied, "but now that they know that we've sussed their game they might come back and kill us straight away, just to make sure we don't go round telling everyone and spoiling their plans."

"Actually you've got a point there," Garth acknowledged.

"Ar, fuck! What a chump I am!" Eric felt like a proper fool. "That's twice now that they've made uz into a chump."

"Well to be fair to the aliens, that one you did to yourself," Monty pointed out.

"Ar, man!" Eric exclaimed. He was too gutted and stressed out to bother arguing with Monty's point. Plus, he probably subconsciously realised that Monty was right.

"Mebbees I should quickly send them another text." So he did:

' _Just to clarify things, we're not going to tell anyone else so you don't have to kill us ahead of schedule to ensure our silence. I can promise you we won't say a word. Not cos of loyalty to yous or nothing. Just cos if we told everyone that aliens we're going to destroy the world, they'd just think we were fruit-loops. So there's definitely no need to kill us. If you think through the logic of what I've said then you'll definitely realise that you can definitely trust us. So please don't kill us._

Cheers.'

Monty and Garth laughingly agreed once again and so Eric pressed send. "I wonder how much credit I've used?" he mused.

"Is there not a number you can ring to find out?" Garth asked.

"Probably, but I forgot to ask?" Eric revealed.

At that point the phone screeched out the phrase 'Has somebody fallen off the roof?' in a funny comedy voice. Eric correctly assumed that this must be the alert for a received message so he quickly pressed a couple of buttons and read the message:

' _Sorry, don't understand. Why do you think we're going to kill you? Or is this some sort of Earth joke?'_

"Hey, they're right proper idiots, like," Eric exclaimed with annoyance in his voice. "Why can't they just admit it? Instead of acting all innocent and playing dumb."

He began typing out the following reply:

' _Look, there's no need to bluff any more. We know the truth. One of your mates...'_

At this point Eric sought the advice of his friends. "Actually do you think I should say 'comrades' instead of 'mates'? Just cos the alien that confessed to that abducted dude on the TV show might not even know Jixyl and Azleev, so technically he's probably not their mate."

"Yeah, at a time like this it's important you get your grammar right," Monty remarked, facetiously.

"Actually, would you mind changing it from ' _We_ know the truth' to ' _I_ know the truth'," Garth requested. "Just cos 'we' sort of incriminates us all. Whereas if you stick to saying 'I' then they might just kill you and leave me and Monty alive."

"Ar, thanks, like," Eric retorted.

"Well there's no point all of us dying," Garth argued, quite logically.

"Actually I think I said 'we' in the last text," Eric remarked, "so I've already incriminated yous."

"I don't think it was as blatant in the last text, though," Garth suggested.

Eric quickly re-read his previous texts and they all agreed that he had incriminated them all already. Monty and Garth were still in favour of the word 'I' rather than 'we', though. "Look, man. They didn't even see yous," Eric pointed out. "I don't know why yous are so worried."

"It's just there's no point taking unnecessary risks," Monty argued.

Eventually, Eric finally agreed to amend his text, so that when he sent it off it read as follows:

' _Look, there's no need to bluff any more. I know the truth. One of your comrades told this abducted dude on telly that yous are gonna kill everyone on Earth. And I realise that I'm totally powerless to stop yous so my priority at the moment is finding out how long I've got to live so that I can maximise my enjoyment for the rest of my life. So if you could tell uz what sort of timescale you're working towards, then I'd appreciate it._

Cheers.'

A few seconds later the following text came back:

' _I can guarantee you we're not planning on killing everyone. But based on what you've told uz you should still be worried. We're on our way back to Earth now. Explain more when we get there.'_

"Ar, nar. I reckon they're coming back to kill us," Eric concluded.

"Kill _you_ ," Garth corrected. "I don't see why they would want to kill me and Monty."

"Ar, fuck. What d'you reckon I should do?" Eric asked.

"I reckon we should all split up," Monty suggested. "That way it'll make it harder for them to find us."

"Find _yous_ , you mean," Eric corrected. "I'm not stupid, you know. I realise why you want to split up. But I don't mind."

"And dump the phone as well," Garth suggested. "It'll probably have some sort of homing beacon in it."

"Aye, true," Eric agreed. "I'll just send them one more text first, though."

He began typing the following message:

' _Are you coming back to kill uz? If you are then can you please make it as painless as possible?'_

He then had second thoughts about the use of a question mark. "Actually, even though that's technically a question, I think I'd be better off just putting a full stop."

"Why's that?" Garth quizzed.

"Just cos a question mark sort of makes it sound like they have a choice over whether to make it painful or not... whereas a full stop sort of makes it a statement. A full stop sort of uses the power of suggestivity to influence them towards the painless option."

"A full stop couldn't do any harm, I suppose," Monty agreed. "After all, it's not like it's your English GCSE exam. Staying alive should be your priority. Not grammatical accuracy."

"Yeah, I'll go with the full stop," Eric affirmed.

' _Are you coming back to kill uz? If you are then can you please make it as painless as possible. Just cos there's no benefit to be gained by causing uz pain. A quick painless death makes sense as the most preferable option all-round._

Cheers.'

Eric was pleased with his use of a full stop, but he was still feeling depressed. "Ar, it's a total gutter, this, like," he shrugged.

"I know," Monty nodded. "There's a leaving do at work next Friday as well and I was gonna have a crack at this new lass. I've been doing a load of spadework on her as well but now it's probably all gonna go to waste."

"Well they might not kill you," Eric suggested, trying to be optimistic.

"Even if they don't. I'm still gonna die at some point," Monty pointed out. "They're gonna kill everyone eventually... according to that dude off the TV show."

"Well you might last long enough to score with that new lass from work, though," Eric proposed, trying to be optimistic.

"Actually now that I consider things... that's not really that big a deal anymore," Monty shrugged. "I think staying alive would be my first choice."

"I tell you the weird thing for me," Eric remarked. "You'd think I'd be totally gutted that I was going to die. But the main emotion I'm feeling at the moment is that I'm totally angry at being fooled. I can't believe I fell for their patter, like."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Garth consoled. "They probably used some special mind device on you to make you susceptible to suggestion."

"No, I think I was just a chump," Eric begged to differ, with refreshing honesty.

At this point Monty noticed a glint of light reflecting off something attached to Eric's back and thus motioned for him to turn around. Closer inspection revealed a tiny metal device attached to Eric's fleece hoody.

"The fucking little gits!" Eric exclaimed, as Monty showed him the device. "That's three times now that they've made a chump of uz. Ar, I'm sending them another text."

So he typed out the following message:

' _I've just found the bug on my back, you fucking snidey little gits!'_

He paused before going any further. "Actually, if I kick off with them they might make my death totally painful... just out of spite. So maybe I should send them a more friendly message."

So Eric then typed out the following toned down message:

' _I've just found the bug on my back. If I promise not to destroy it will you promise to make my death as painless as possible?'_

...before once again feeling uneasy about the use of a question mark, so in the end...

' _I've just found the bug on my back. If I promise not to destroy it will you promise to make my death as painless as possible.'_

...was the message that he finally sent. A few seconds later the following message appeared on his mobile:

' _I shagged a black guy at the weekend.'_

"Eh? That's a bit weird," Eric remarked, looking somewhat bemused by the message.

"What's it say, like?" Monty inquired.

"He's saying he shagged a black dude at the weekend," Eric revealed. "You see! I knew they were into anal probes!" Peculiarly, he felt quite smug that one of his initial suspicions would now seem to have been confirmed.

"He shagged a black dude?" Garth repeated, now looking as bemused as Eric. "Are the aliens gay, like?"

"They didn't seem it, like," Eric pondered. "In fact Jixyl was going on about spanking lasses being normal on their planet."

"Well if he shagged a dude then I suspect he's probably gay, like," Monty deduced. "It's just a wild stab in the dark..."

"Why's he telling you that, though?" Garth asked, trying to analyse the logic, or lack thereof, of Jixyl's latest text.

"I dunno," Eric shrugged. "Mebbees they're trying to confuse uz to distract uz from my impending death." But then Eric noticed the name tag attached to the message. "Ar, hang on a sec. It's not from Jixyl. It's from someone called Jeemia." Slowly, a more plausible explanation for the last text began to formulate in Eric's mind. "Ar, I bet you that's probably his girlfriend. He mustn't have told her about him giving me his phone." The message was finally starting to make sense to Eric. "Ar..."

"His lass is shagging a black dude?" Garth remarked. "What a bitch!"

"Yeah, it's a gutter for him, that, like," Eric agreed. "Although I have to say that I don't feel _too_ much sympathy for him... given that he's possibly planning on exterminating mankind."

"Yeah, all things considered he probably deserves it," Monty declared.

"It's still a bit of a snidey thing for her to do, though," Garth reasoned.

"Ar, yeah. She's definitely a snide, like," Eric agreed. "I'm not denying her snidiness. In fact I might send her a text back pretending to be Jixyl saying he was cheating on her anyway... just to piss her off."

"You might get Jixyl into trouble, though," Garth pointed out.

"Ar, nar! I wouldn't want to get him into trouble, like," Eric remarked, sarcastically. "It might get in the way of his plans to destroy the Earth. That would be a gutter, like, wouldn't it?"

"But what if he's telling the truth and he's on his way back now to try and help us?" Garth hypothesised. "Then you'll have gotten him into trouble for nothing."

"Well either way his lass has cheated on him, so he's probably gonna split up with her anyway," Eric reasoned. "And even if he forgives her she can hardly complain, can she? Considering she's done the same thing."

"True," Monty nodded.

So Eric typed out the following message:

' _I shagged a fit Swedish lass the other day so that makes us even.'_

Just as he was about to send it though, he had the following realisation, "Ar, hang on a sec, though. They probably won't have Swedish lasses on their planet."

"I'd say that's a reasonable assumption," Monty agreed, "based on the fact that Sweden is a country based on Earth and they come from a planet at the other side of the galaxy. And also seeing as how they haven't yet discovered the secret of intergalactic planetary travel yet in Sweden."

"I'll change it to 'a fit blonde lass' instead," Eric remarked.

So he eventually sent the following message:

' _I shagged a fit blonde lass the other day so that makes us even.'_

A minute or so later he got the following reply:

' _You two-timing bastard. All men are skanky dogs.'_

Eric read the message to his mates. "Eh! What a hypocrite!" he observed. "It's alright for her to shag a black dude but when Jixyl shags a fit blonde lass she takes a total strop."

"That's total double standards, that, like," Garth agreed.

"Maybe they have different standards in their society," Monty suggested. "Maybe it's acceptable for women to cheat but men are expected to be loyal."

"Well that's a bit stupid, like," Garth remarked.

"It's _totally_ stupid," Eric emphasised. "Loyalty should go both ways, like."

At this moment another text came through:

' _Look, you have to trust us. We don't want to kill you. That bug on your back was just another prank. We'll be able to prove our peaceful intentions once we get back to Earth. We're going to try to save your lives... but we'll need your help. Don't send any more messages in case they're being monitored.'_

Eric read the message to his friends. "That one's off Jixyl," he pointed out, although his friends had probably already ascertained that from the subject matter. "What do you reckon it means?"

"It sounds to me that they're possibly sort of admitting that their species is going to kill us but they're personally against it and they want to help us," Monty deduced. "Or at least, that's what they want us to believe."

"Mebbees," Eric considered.

"Realistically, if they want to kill you, or us, or everyone, then they probably can so there's no point doing a runner," Garth interjected, "whereas if they're going to help us then there's obviously definitely no point doing a runner either. So either way I reckon you should stay put."

"You've sharp changed your tune, like," Eric remarked. "When we first saw the spaceship you were away like a shot."

"That was a reflex reaction," Garth explained. "My considered opinion now though is that we stay put and wait for them to arrive."

"Yeah, we might as well see what they have to say," Monty agreed.

"Aye, I suppose," Eric shrugged.

So that was what they did. They stayed put and waited for Jixyl and Azleev to return.

Chapter Eight – Life Snides Eric Off

An air of nervousness had hung over Eric, Monty and Garth while they waited for Jixyl and Azleev's return, and so Eric decided to relieve the tension by bringing a positive comment to the situation.

"I tell you what would be good," he remarked.

"What?" Monty inquired.

"If the whole planet knew what we knew about the aliens' plan to kill everyone..."

"Aye, cos at least then the governments and armies and all that," Garth interrupted, "could co-ordinate their defence plans and..."

"Hang on, I hadn't finished," Eric re-interrupted. "I was gonna say it'd be good if everyone knew that we were all gonna die... cos then it'd be much easier to score. Lasses wouldn't be thinking about the long term and getting married and having babies and all that. They'd just be thinking, 'Oh no! I've only got a few weeks to live!' so they'd be more concerned about short-term fun."

"Aye, imagine... they'd be just like blokes," Monty mused. "And imagine how easy it would be to score if all lasses were as slaggy as blokes."

"Yeah, every cloud has a silver lining," Garth laughed.

"But, like, that's a strange thing to think about," Monty remarked. "The world's gonna end and all you can think about is, 'Ar, well at least it's gonna be easier to score.'"

"Well you were just as bad earlier on," Eric accused, "when you were going on about that new lass at work."

"Yeah, in my defence, though..." Monty declared, "she's really fit."

"Aye well so were the lasses I was thinking of scoring with in my hypothetical example," Eric countered.

"I think it's safe to say that you're both perverts," Garth remarked.

"Eh! 'Pot' and 'kettle', like!" Eric spat back. "You're the one that went down to odds of two to one for the 'blowjob' versus 'risk of getting your knob bitten off' scenario."

"Yeah, fair comment," Garth acknowledged. "But anyway, when I called you perverts I obviously meant it as a compliment in any case."

Eric and Monty chuckled at Garth's alleged compliment. "Aye, we're all perverts," Monty agreed.

"I wonder if alien lasses are fit," Eric then mused.

"...but I think it's safe to say that of the three of uz, Eric's by far the biggest pervert," Monty continued.

"I was just making a comment," Eric replied, defensively. "It's a fair question."

"What were the alien blokes like?" Garth asked.

"Canny average, I would say," Eric remarked, shaking his flattened outstretched hand in the universal sign language for 'average.'

"The lasses are probably average as well, then," Garth surmised.

"Not necessarily," Eric disagreed. "Swedish lasses are, like, totally lush, but Swedish dudes are... well, actually they're sort of good looking as well, I suppose, but I'd still say they're not quite in the same league as Swedish lasses."

"Aye actually, and all lasses fancy Italian men, but when I went to Italy the women there weren't really to my taste," Garth added.

"Aye but the only lasses that fancy Italian men are lasses that've never actually met any Italian men," Eric claimed. "When I was in Haad Rin, Italian men definitely ranked below English dudes with lasses, like. Just cos Italian men don't seem to understand the concept of treating lasses with respect. Whereas in England we all realise that if you're gonna have any chance with a lass then you have to pretend you respect her." Eric was just joking about pretending to respect lasses, cos he did in reality respect lasses. Well, obviously not _all_ lasses. Some lasses were obviously a bit rubbish. But he respected most of them, at least. And in fact when he visited Morocco he had a lot more respect for Moroccan women than he did for Moroccan men. Although that's not to say that all the Moroccan dudes he met were rubbish. Some of them were canny sound as well. Anyway, crass generalisations just get you into trouble, so suffice it to say that Eric respected just as many women as he did men, and vice versa.

"I'm sure there must be some Italian men that respect women, though," Monty suggested. "So by the same logic even if the alien dudes were canny average there must still be some fit alien lasses. You can't judge an entire nation or species just on the behaviour or looks of a few individuals."

"Ar yeah, when I said that Italian men don't know how to treat women with respect I was just making a crass generalisation," Eric admitted. "Some of them are sound, like. And yeah, I'm pretty sure there'll be a canny lot of alien lasses who are totally fit, like."

"You've obviously given the subject a lot of thought," Monty joked.

"Is that one of your fantasies, like?" Garth inquired.

"Nar, course not!" Eric retorted, feeling quite offended. "What sort of a freak do you think I am, like? Alien lasses! Nar, they're obviously not a fantasy. Nar, my top five fantasies are Swedish lasses, obviously." He counted out 'one' on his fingers. "A threesome, obviously." He counted out two.

"Obviously," Monty agreed.

"Having her tongue pierced." He tapped his third finger. Anyway, I'm sure you get the idea by now.

"I thought you'd already been with a lass with her tongue pierced?" Garth inquired.

"Aye, I have... but it's still a fantasy, though. Just cos you do a fantasy once it doesn't mean you don't want a repeat performance," Eric pointed out. "Like, if Newcastle won the Premiership I'd still want us to win it again."

"Aye, fair point," Garth acknowledged.

"And anyway, she wouldn't give uz a blowjob, the snide that she was," Eric revealed, "so it doesn't count as properly fulfilling one of my top five fantasies."

"How many top five fantasies have you done, then?" Monty inquired.

"Well you can't ask that, like," Eric clammed up.

"Why not?" Monty pressed.

"I'm not comfortable discussing such a pervy subject," Eric replied.

Monty and Garth both started laughing. "I can't say I've ever noticed you being uncomfortable with pervy conversation," Monty remarked.

"Well, basically I've never done any of my top five fantasies," Eric admitted. "That's what I'm uncomfortable about."

"Apart from the pierced tongue," Garth added.

"Well, no... like I said, that didn't count cos there was no blowjob involved," Eric repeated. "I love pierced tongues... well, piercings in general... and snogging a lass with her tongue pierced is totally lush, like. Honestly, normally I'm thinking about having sex with a lass within about five seconds of snogging her, but if she's got her tongue pierced then I'm so busy enjoying playing with her tongue that it's about, oo... mebbees even an extra twenty seconds before I even think about progressing things on. Anyway, what was I going on about..." All this talk of pierced tongues had left Eric somewhat distracted.

"Your top five fantasies," Garth reminded him.

"Ar, aye. What I was gonna say is that I love snogging lasses with their tongue pierced but that's not the proper fantasy," Eric reiterated. "The proper fantasy is getting a blowjob off a lass with her tongue pierced."

"It's a near miss, though," Monty consoled. "Better than nothing."

"Ar, yeah. I don't want to sound ungrateful," Eric quickly remarked. "It's just that I've had loads of near misses but never a perfect match for a fantasy."

"So what are some of your other near misses, then?" Garth inquired.

"Well I've sucked Red Bull off a lass's baps before," Eric revealed. It has to be said that despite his earlier protestations, he did appear to be very comfortable having a pervy conversation. In all probability he probably found it a welcome distraction from his potential forthcoming death.

Monty started chuckling at Eric's revelation, whereas Garth just looked surprised. "You kept that quiet, like," he remarked.

"Well you never asked," Eric shrugged.

"To be fair though, it's not the sort of question you would generally ask in everyday conversation," Monty pointed out. "Like, you generally don't go, 'So Eric, did you see the football last night? Have you heard the new Foo Fighters single? Ar... and have you sucked Red Bull off any lasses' baps recently?'"

"And they were totally lush baps, like," Eric continued, with a distant look in his eyes. "Like, as big as you can get before you start getting into freakish territory. And lushly spherical... like, totally pert. No sagginess at all. The perfect shape."

"So what's your actual proper top five bap sucking fantasy, then," Monty inquired, "if that was only a near miss?"

"Well for proper fantasy fulfilment it would obviously have to have been lemon juice, not Red Bull," Eric revealed.

"Yeah, you certainly love your lemons," Monty acknowledged, with a grin. "No one can deny that." Eric had a well known reputation as a lover of lemons and would regularly eat people's leftover lemons from their cokes.

"Not that I'm knocking Red Bull," Eric quickly added. "It was still totally lush... but lemon juice would have made it perfect."

"So that's four, then," Monty tallied. "What's the fifth fantasy in your top five fantasies?"

"Hang on! I still wanna hear about your other near misses," Garth exclaimed.

"Well basically my near miss with a Swedish lass is that I scored with her at a low level," Eric began, "and I should have obviously converted things into complete success, but I was stupidly canny drunk and I was totally gormless so the chance slipped through my fingers."

"So what's that mean in terms of what actually happened?" Monty probed.

"Well basically it means I didn't have sex with her and the next day was totally weird, cos on the one hand you're obviously canny chuffed about even getting to low level stuff with a Swedish lass, but on the other hand you're totally annoyed with yourself for messing up the main course. Honestly, man... I was even thinking of giving up the booze... that's how annoyed I was at myself, cos basically it was my drunken gormlessness that spoilt my chances."

Monty and Garth were quite surprised by Eric's revelations because usually he didn't talk about this sort of thing. Not because he was uncomfortable discussing it. Just because, like he said earlier, they never asked.

"And what about your threesome near miss?" Garth quizzed.

"Ar, that was a total gutter, like," Eric proclaimed, a look of nostalgic disappointment suddenly appearing on his face. "Not that it was a near miss really, like. It was a totally far miss actually. So far in fact that it's not even worth telling."

"Nar, howay," Garth pressed.

"Well, like, basically you know when you're well in with a lass and you know that you're probably going get it on later on," Eric began to explain. "Like, you haven't actually discussed it so it hasn't been categorically confirmed or anything, but you're basically totally confident and you'd be totally surprised if it didn't happen. Well, I was with a lass like that and I was obviously thinking, 'Get in. This is looking good, like.'

But on top of that, her mate was there as well and she was being quite flirty as well, so then I was, like, 'Mmm, maybe this could be even better than I was hoping!' And then we were all bantering on for a bit and getting more and more flirty until eventually I was going back to their room with them. Like, nothing had still been categorically confirmed but by then I was, like, obviously thinking, 'Mmm, excellent! This is looking extremely promising!'

But then as usual life totally snided uz off as usual, cos then just before we got to their room her flirty mate stood on some broken glass and cut her foot open so we had to take her to go and get it bandaged up. So I was, like, 'Ar, total gutter!' Cos, like, all the blood and stuff just completely ruined the horniness. So then, like, in the end I didn't even get a twosome, never mind a threesome.

And then I tell you what made it even more of a gutter, right, was that a couple of days later I finally got to see their room... and they only had a double bed! Not, like, two singles... just one bed! So then I was, like, 'Ar... _double_ gutter!' Cos my hunch had obviously been correct but by then we'd moved into mates territory so the chance was obviously gone by then." Eric shook his head in reflective disappointment. "Hey, it was a total gutter how she cut her foot open, like."

"Aye, I can see how upset you are about how painful it must have been for her cutting her foot open, like," Monty joked.

"Yeah, life clearly snided _you_ off when she stood on the broken glass, like, Eric," Garth added. "Not her."

Eric suddenly attempted to appear sympathetic. "Ar well... aye, I mean... like, I was obviously concerned for her cutting her foot open, like. Obviously it looked canny painful, like, so I was, like, obviously hoping she was okay and all that." The distant look of disappointment then quickly reappeared on Eric's face again. "But I mean... ar, hey! So close to a threesome, you know."

"Aye, how selfish of her to cut her foot open at a time like that," Monty smirked.

"Actually, I found out later on that she had a boyfriend in any case," Eric revealed. "Like, not the first lass... her flirty mate. So really I was canny glad in the end that nothing happened cos I wouldn't want any three-way activity to happen with a lass that wasn't single."

"Ar, yeah, cos you've got totally high moral standards," Monty joked, ironically.

"I have, man!" Eric protested. "I totally wouldn't do anything with a lass that wasn't single." Monty and Garth didn't look totally convinced. "I wouldn't, man! And not just cos of the moral aspect either. When you think about it, if a lass has gotten herself into a serious relationship once then she's probably gonna do it again... and serious relationships are, like... 'woah!' to me." Eric raised his hands defensively to emphasise the word 'woah!'

"I'm sure that Rachel lass would be pleased to hear you say that," Garth remarked.

"Well I don't think she wants to see uz again now in any case," Eric guessed. "But anyway, I'm just totally not into being serious, so my lack of interest in non-single lasses isn't just about morals. It's also for selfish reasons. It's just not worth the risk. Like I say, she might turn out to be a serial relationshipist."

"I think all lasses are serial relationshipists... as you put it," Monty smirked.

"So anyway, getting back to the lemon juice fantasy..." Garth recalled. "How come you haven't licked lemon juice off Rachel's baps, then?"

"Well I've only seen her a few times, like," Eric pointed out. "And there just hasn't been the right situation to ask her yet."

"Well, if you're not wanting to get serious then what have you got to lose by asking her," Monty suggested. "She can only say no... and anyway, if she's not that keen on the idea then no worries cos you're not that serious anyway."

"Here, I'm not comfortable talking about stuff with specific lasses," Eric answered. "It's a bit disrespectful talking about specific lasses."

"How's that, like?" Garth inquired.

"Just cos some lasses don't like you talking about the stuff you've got up to," Eric explained.

"Aye, you're right," Garth acknowledged. "But at the same time, lasses don't have that rule. Lasses totally gossip about what they get up to with specific blokes, so realistically I don't see why we should have such a rule either."

"It's not out of respect for lasses," Eric clarified. "It's just cos I'm generally not comfortable discussing specific lass stuff."

"Garth's right, though. It's total double standards," Monty insisted.

"Ar, yeah. I agree," Eric concurred, before adding, "but don't worry, I'm not gonna stick to the rule. I'm just pointing out what the rule is. I'm not saying I choose to follow it. Merely that I realise the rule exists."

"That's good to hear," Garth smiled.

Monty and Garth then stared anticipatorily at Eric for a few moments.

"What?" Eric eventually shrugged.

"Howay, man," Garth cajoled. "How come you're saying there hasn't been the right situation to ask Rachel for a lemon juiced bap licking session, then?"

"Just cos I've never had the bottle to ask her," Eric explained. "I mean, she'd probably be up for it, like," he then added with mock bravado. "Well not now, obviously. Cos she thinks I'm a chump now... but before she realised I was a chump she probably would have. I mean, before she _mistakenly thought_ I was a chump," he quickly corrected. "But anyway, Rachel's not a stranger so she's not relevant to any discussion about fantasies."

"She's not a stranger?" Monty quizzed. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well just cos it's not a proper fantasy if it's not with a stranger," Eric explained. "No dude thinks, 'Oo, I'd love to do this really pervy thing... with my girlfriend.' For a proper fantasy it has to be with a stranger, obviously."

"I didn't realise Rachel was your girlfriend," Monty remarked.

"She wasn't," Eric refuted. "But I'd seen her a couple of times so she wasn't a stranger."

"Not all dudes are just into strangers," Monty contested.

"Yeah, I like doing some right pervy things with my lass," Garth declared.

"Yeah, so would I," Eric acknowledged.

"You'd like to do pervy things with Sarah?" Monty stirred.

"No, man. I meant... like, if you've got a girlfriend then you obviously want to do pervy things with her," Eric explained. "But I didn't mean _I_ want to do pervy things with Garth's lass."

"What's wrong with Sarah, like?" Monty inquired, mischievously.

"Ar, I don't mean... I mean, like, if..." Eric was starting to get a bit flustered. "Like, obviously Sarah's canny... Well, I just mean she's... Well anyway, high five for your pulling skills and all that, Garth... but I wasn't specifically referring to Sarah." Monty sniggered to himself at Eric's apparent discomfort. "Like, I imagine I _would_ enjoy..." Eric continued. Garth gave him a funny look at this admission. "Not that I've imagined..." Eric quickly protested, holding his hands up in the guilty Italian footballer gesture. "I'm just saying I obviously enjoyed doing pervy stuff with Rachel, but it was more enjoyable the first time when she was a stranger. Cos strangers are more fun, like," Eric maintained, before quickly adding, "Like, just when you're single, though. I'm not talking about going with strangers when you've got a girlfriend, obviously. Cos obviously loyalty is important and all that. Like, I've always been loyal my entire life, like. Although if I'm honest, my loyalty is as much due to lack of opportunity as it is moral integrity."

"Very honest," Monty smirked.

At that moment a text came through on Eric's newly acquired mobile phone. It read:

' _We'll probably be at Earth in about ten minutes. Where do you want to meet?'_

"The aliens are nearly here," Eric announced. "They want to know where to meet. Shall I tell them just to come here?"

"Nar! No way!" Monty protested. "I thought we agreed not to drag Garth and me into things. There's no point us all getting killed."

"Ar thanks, like, for your moral support," Eric whinged.

"Well I'm just being realistic," Monty defended. "We can probably trust them after that text they sent us, but just in case they're dodgy it makes sense for me and Garth to live so that we can warn the rest of mankind."

"It's good to know you're so concerned about your fellow man," Eric laughed. But he quickly added, "Nar, man. Fair enough... aye, I can see your point of view. I'd be a bottler as well if I was in your shoes."

"I'm not being a bottler," Monty insisted. "I just don't want to die."

"Tell them to meet you on the beach," Garth suggested, getting to the point.

"Where'll they park their spaceship, though?" Eric queried. "They can't leave it on the beach in case someone sees it."

"I thought they've got that light refraction thingamajig device to stop people seeing it," Monty pointed out.

"They have," Eric acknowledged, "but it only works at twenty metres. What if someone wanders closer than twenty metres?"

"There'll be no-one on the beach at this time of night," Monty reasoned. "Anyway, why are you so concerned about their privacy? A few minutes ago you were convinced they were gonna kill you."

"Aye, fair point," Eric accepted. "I'll tell them to meet uz on the beach, then." He typed out a text and pressed send. "Yous'll come with uz, though, won't you?"

"Well, no," Monty remarked. "That's what we've just discussed. There's no point us all getting killed."

"No, man. I don't mean to meet the aliens," Eric clarified. "I just mean to walk along the path next to the beach like a couple of casual passers-by, like, just to keep an eye on things."

"Well okay, if you want," Monty reluctantly agreed, "but there's not much me and Garth are gonna be able to do against a couple of aliens."

"Honestly, man. They're not that hard," Eric declared. "I purely chinned Azleev remember. And you're harder than me."

"Yeah, true," Monty bragged, smugly, nodding his head in agreement. It was Monty that had first gotten Eric interested in Tae Kwon Do and Monty was therefore a few months ahead of Eric and had already achieved his black belt. His smug agreement was ironic by the way. I wouldn't want to portray him as being a bighead when in actual fact his arrogance was purely for the purpose of comedy.

"I'm not getting involved, though," Garth remarked, cowardly.

"Aye, fair enough," Eric replied. "You wouldn't be much use anyway, to be honest."

"Ar, thanks, like," Garth retorted. He had also done a bit of Tae Kwon Do training but he quickly lost interest and dropped out at yellow belt.

"Nar, man. Just joking," Eric appeased. He _was_ joking, but it was a joke based in truth, i.e. he was joking by virtue of his light-hearted attitude, rather than joking in the sense of a lack of factual accuracy. "Anyway, they'll be here in a minute so are we off?"

Monty and Garth agreed and they headed off down to the beach.

"Do you think I should tell Jixyl about his lass shagging that black dude?" Eric inquired, as they made their way.

"I wouldn't advise it," Monty recommended. "It'll just make him angry and if he _has_ come to kill you then you've got more chance of a pain-free death if he's not feeling angry."

"Aye, good advice," Eric agreed. " _Very_ good advice."

Eric walked on ahead of his mates until he was a good thirty or so metres in advance of them. This still didn't satisfy Garth's paranoia though, and so as Eric glanced back Garth nervously motioned for him to put even more distance between them. Eric did as he was motioned and before long he had arrived at the beach feeling a multitude of emotions. Fear, nervousness, terror, trepidation, fear again, dread... have I mentioned fear yet.

In fact it was safe to say that as he stepped onto the beach this was possibly one of the top three most frightened occasions Eric had experienced in his entire life.

Chapter Nine – Happy People Don't Question

Eric wandered nervously along the beach but there was no sign of the spaceship. Eric put this down to their light refraction displacement technology though, and so continued on down the beach, which was deserted just like Monty had predicted. He had only travelled a few steps before he heard Jixyl and Azleev's voices calling from behind him.

"Alright Eric."

He turned around. "Aye, alright," he responded. "Well apart from the Earth getting destroyed and all that." He let out a nervous chuckle.

"Aye, that's a gutter that, like," Jixyl agreed. "Basically I reckon that abducted dude on that TV show was probably being serious, like."

"Gutter," Eric replied. "So how come you only _reckon_? Surely if you're going to kill everyone then you should have a pretty definite idea of what's gonna happen."

"It's not us that wants to kill you all. It's some other aliens," Jixyl professed. "Well that's what I'm guessing anyway. I can't say for definite but from what you've told us about that dude on the TV show that's what it sounds like, like."

"Can you tell us exactly what the bloke on the TV show said, though?" Azleev added.

"Well, just that these aliens pretended to be really friendly with him," Eric recalled, "a bit like yous... but then at the end one of them must have been feeling a bit guilty cos they confessed to him that they were secretly planning on killing everyone on Earth."

"Yeah, it definitely sounds like the Femlings," Jixyl remarked.

"The who?" Eric quizzed.

"The Femlings," Jixyl repeated. "They've been planning something like this for a while now. It looks like Earth's drawn the short straw. And we know exactly how you feel cos according to our Fyraling spies we're next on their list after Earth."

"Flip! What snides!" Eric exclaimed, before adding paranoidly, "And that's, like, true, is it? Like, it's not just a clever bluff, is it, to throw uz off my guard before you kill uz with some powerful alien technology."

"Nar, swear down," Jixyl insisted.

"We can understand you being a bit paranoid," Azleev acknowledged, "but I bet you the aliens that abducted that bloke off the telly had five fingers, did they?"

This threw Eric for a moment and he looked temporarily confused. "He didn't say," Eric shrugged, once he had digested the comment.

"Well there you go, then," Azleev replied. "If they had only had four fingers the abducted bloke would have mentioned it when he was on the telly."

"Hmm..." Eric mused, considering the logic of this.

"Think about it. I'm right," Azleev insisted. "If they only had four fingers he would definitely have said, 'I got abducted by these aliens that looked just like humans... _except_ they only had four fingers,' so the fact that he didn't mention a finger count means that logically they must have had five fingers in order for him to deem it not worthy of mentioning."

"Not that there's anything wrong with having four fingers," Jixyl proclaimed.

"Hmm, I sort of see what you're saying, like," Eric half-agreed. "But to be honest I'm still a bit paranoid, like. Cos there's this as well..." He began rolling up his sleeve. "When you took that blood sample off uz it left this mark." Eric pointed to the small star-shaped red mark on his upper arm. "And the dude on the TV show had an identical mark."

"A lot of contact planets share similar technology," Azleev explained. "I can only assume the blood analysing vessel we used must be the same model they use on Fem."

"Actually, I'd already thought that might be the reason, like," Eric admitted.

"Look, I promise you we're not lying," Jixyl insisted. "If we wanted to kill everyone we'd just do it. We wouldn't care whether you believed us or not. But trust us, we've seen first hand the bad side of the Femlings, so we're on your side."

"Ar, I'm not saying I definitely think yous are lying," Eric explained, his manner suddenly becoming more convivial. "In fact I'm starting to think that it's quite probable that yous are telling the truth. All I'm saying is that I'm still keeping an open mind about things... just to be on the safe side."

"That's fair enough," Azleev accepted. "Just as long as you keep an open mind about us telling the truth... cos we are."

Eric nodded in a sort of friendly but non-committal sort of a way. "So how come they want to destroy all life on Earth, then?" he inquired. "And how come you're next on their list?"

"Cos they're a bunch of mad psychos," Jixyl answered.

"Basically they've decided that they're so much better than everyone else that in their deluded logic they've decided that anyone whose lives are inferior to theirs must be so rubbish that they aren't worth living," Azleev elaborated. "So basically, as an 'act of kindness' they've decided it would be kinder to put the likes of you and us out of our misery and kill us all, rather than force us to endure the miserable existence that we're currently experiencing."

"Eh? What are they on about? Yous have got a totally class life!" Eric enthused, looking mystified. "You can fly to other planets! And you've got totally cool mobile phones!" Eric looked totally dumbfounded. "How can they say yous have got a low standard of life when you've got stuff like G.O.T. and cool spaceships?" Eric truly was shocked at the unfathomable attitude of the Femlings.

"I know, man. They're total psychos, man," Jixyl explained. "But just think, right... if they think _we've_ got a poor quality of life, then imagine how much lower they must think your lives are here on Earth."

"Flip! Aye, you're right," Eric agreed. "I mean, some of our phones haven't even got bluetooth!"

"So that's why we reckon it sounds like they've picked Earth as top of their list to eliminate," Azleev remarked.

"Aye, I see what you're saying," Eric admitted. "Well... as long as this isn't a clever bluff, that is."

"Look, man. How many times do I have to tell you... we're on your side!" Jixyl insisted, starting to appear rather impatient with Eric's scepticism. He then had an idea. "Here, look... there's an old smuggled video clip on the Galactic Information Network somewhere from one of our spies. It shows you what a bunch of snides the Femlings are. I can look it up for you if you want."

"What's in the video, like?" Eric inquired.

"It's just the Femling Grand Emperor making a speech about their 'Quality Of Life' proposal," Azleev replied.

"Well, aye. I suppose I could have a look, like," Eric agreed.

So Jixyl looked up the clip on the G.I.N. and handed his mobile phone to Eric.

Eric stared at the screen filled with curiosity and began to watch the clip. "Fellow citizens of Fem," the Femling Grand Emperor announced, "I stand before you in a time of unprecedented prosperity for the planet Fem..."

And so Eric listened as the Grand Emperor of Fem delivered his speech about the Quality Of Life proposal. When it got to the point about eliminating suffering from the rest of the galaxy Eric appeared quite confused. "He seems like a pretty sound dude to me, like," he remarked.

"Keep listening, though," Azleev instructed.

And then as the Grand Emperor outlined his ideas regarding the elimination of life from certain planets that were beyond hope, Eric's opinion rapidly changed from respectful agreement to utter shock and disbelief. "Eh! What an idiot!"

"I know," Jixyl agreed.

"What a total snide!" Eric exclaimed. "He wants to eliminate life from certain planets just cos he reckons the level of suffering is too high! Proper sly or what!?"

"I know!" Jixyl repeated. "That's what we've been saying. They're totally crazy, man."

"Anyway, from what you've told us about that bloke on the TV show, it seems that the Femlings are planning to make the 'Quality Of Life' proposal a reality," Azleev concluded. "And unfortunately for Earth it seems that it's yous that have drawn the short straw."

"Eh! I can't believe that, like," Eric remarked, shaking his head.

"Well, I don't know what else we can do to convince you," Azleev shrugged. "You've seen the video..."

"Ar, nar. I don't mean 'I can't believe it' as in 'I literally don't believe it,'" Eric explained. "I mean 'I can't believe it' as in 'I do obviously believe it cos I've seen it with my own eyes, but I just think it's totally snidey.'"

"Ar, right," Azleev replied, as he began to grasp the intricacies of Geordie slang.

"Right anyway, so yous have sussed that it's the Femlings that want to kill everyone," Eric summarised. "So what's your plan to save everyone, then?"

"We don't have one," Jixyl admitted.

"Ar, great! Well that's good, like!" Eric moaned, sarcastically. "Thanks for travelling all this way just to tell uz, 'Ar, don't worry. _We're_ not gonna kill you... but some other aliens are, so unlucky but you're still gonna die anyway.'"

"I didn't say we weren't going to help, you sarky git," Jixyl retorted. "I'm just saying we haven't got a plan as yet. You need to tell us everything you know before we can decide what we can do to help."

"Well I've pretty much told you everything already," Eric shrugged. "Like I say, there was just some dude on this Jerry Springer type programme that reckoned he got abducted by aliens that sounded a bit like yous... and then at the end of it one of the aliens admitted that everyone on Earth was gonna get killed. That's about it."

Jixyl and Azleev digested this information for a few moments before Eric impatiently asked, "Any ideas, then?"

"Well basically what we really need to do first is speak to that abducted bloke," Azleev remarked. "See what else he can tell us."

"I suppose I could look on the internet for the address and stuff for whoever makes that Jerry Springer type show," Eric suggested. "And then ask them for his contact details."

"Right, well the sooner the better," Jixyl urged.

"Except that he'll probably be bugged," Azleev pointed out. "So the Femlings will probably hear everything he tells us."

"Ar, aye. Shit," Jixyl exclaimed, realising his mate was probably right.

"Ar, great," Eric muttered. "So we're basically in big trouble, then."

"Well _you_ are," Jixyl replied. "We're alright, though."

"Ar, rubbish," Eric whinged.

"Don't worry. All we have to do is block the transmitter from the bug and then we'll be able to talk freely with him," Azleev suggested.

"Except that that would be blatantly too obvious," Jixyl disagreed. "If we block the transmitter the Femlings'll suss straight away that someone's on to them."

"Yeah, true... I suppose," Azleev acknowledged.

"So basically we're in big trouble then," Eric repeated, before quickly correcting himself. "Sorry... _I'm_ in big trouble. Yous are okay but I'm gonna die."

"Nar, don't give up yet," Jixyl encouraged.

"Ar, what about..." Eric suddenly seemed full of optimism and hope. "...would I be able to come with yous and live on your planet?"

"But what about everyone else on Earth, though?" Azleev pointed out. "They'd still die. They couldn't all come and live on our planet."

"Well, yeah," Eric shrugged. Everyone went quiet for a few moments. "...but as a last resort," Eric continued. "I mean, obviously the ideal scenario would be for everyone to get saved... but failing that I suppose I could come and live with yous on your planet." He suddenly realised that he was possibly coming across as too enthusiastic for this idea so he tried to tone down his enthusiasm. "But, like, obviously it'd be a gutter for everyone else, like. So obviously we need to think of a plan to save everyone else as well if we can." Another moment of quiet followed which led Eric to feel the need to push the benefits of his back-up plan once again, "But I mean, like... there's no point me dying as well. If you can only save one life then it's better to save that one life than to let everyone die."

"I think I've got an idea," Azleev announced, looking slightly more optimistic.

"What?" Jixyl inquired.

"It's the Star Maker final this coming day after Saturday and the day before Sunday," Azleev remarked.

"The day after Saturday and the day before Sunday?" Eric inquired, curiously. "What's that?"

"It's the day after Saturday and the day before Sunday," Azleev replied. It may have sounded like he was being sarcastic but actually he wasn't. It was just a translational quirk of G.O.T. From Azleev's point of view the previous conversation went like this:

Azleev: It's the Star Maker final this coming Quorgsday.

Eric: What's Quorgsday?

Azleev: It's the day after Saturday and the day before Sunday.

Anyway, Eric was quite surprised and a little jealous at the discovery of a three day weekend on Azleev and Jixyl's planet.

"Eh! So yous get a three day weekend!" Actually he was more than a _little_ jealous. He was a _lot_ jealous. "What a bunch of flukes!"

"Three days?" Jixyl replied, frowning his eyebrows. "Well... no. Obviously we get the day after Sunday and the day before Monday as well. Surely you can't expect people to manage on a three day weekend? We'd be totally knackered all the time."

"Eh!?! You mean you get a four day weekend!" Eric was getting ever more jealous by the second. "Flip! Hey, I definitely want to come and live on your planet, like." He suddenly toned down his enthusiasm. "Ar, I mean, but hopefully we'll think of a plan to save everyone else... obviously."

"Well if you let uz finish telling you my idea we might have the start of a plan," Azleev remarked.

"Ar, aye. Soz," Eric apologised.

"Right, so it's the Star Maker final this coming day after Saturday and the day before Sunday," Azleev repeated. Eric was wondering what Star Maker was but he decided to bite his lip until Azleev had finished his story.

"Yeah," Jixyl agreed. "So how does that help us?"

"Well think what happened a couple of months ago when it was the Fly On The Wall final," Azleev replied.

Jixyl's eyes suddenly lit up. "Ar, of course!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Eric asked, feeling out of the loop.

"So many people voted that the whole telecommunications network crashed!" Jixyl revealed, his enthusiasm for Azleev's idea growing with every passing second.

"Basically, the central telecommunications processor packed up under the weight of usage," Azleev elaborated.

"And any transmissions sent from the bug in that abducted dude will have to go through the central telecommunications processor," Jixyl added.

"Ar, right. I think I'm starting to follow," Eric replied. "So hopefully when the Star Maker final is on there'll be loads of calls again and the processor'll crash again and we'll be able to talk to the abducted dude without the Femlings hearing what we're saying."

"Exactly!" Jixyl confirmed.

"But will it definitely crash again?" Eric inquired, considering every eventuality. "Like, surely they'll have learnt their lesson, won't they? You'd think if it crashed the last time then they'd have added extra capacity."

"Yeah, they have," Azleev confirmed. "But you're missing the point. We can sabotage the central telecommunications processor while the Star Maker final is on and no-one will get suspicious. They'll just assume it was cos of too many calls again.

Trust us, the Femlings absolutely love Star Maker so if the central telecommunications processor crashes everyone'll be happy. The telecommunications company will be happy cos they'll have to repeat the final which means another mass bout of telephone voting which means even more profits for them. The producers will be happy cos they can use it as a testament to how popular their show is. The contestants will be happy cos they all get to enjoy one extra week of fame in the limelight. The media-blogs will be happy cos it'll be a massive story and they'll sell loads of advertising space. And the viewers, in a strange morbid way, will be happy cos a repeat of the final means they get to watch their favourite show for an extra week and they get to gossip about it all week at work for an extra week. Everyone's a winner. Everyone's happy.

And happy people don't question why things happen. They just accept. So it's perfect. We can sabotage the central telecommunications processor and no-one gets suspicious. We get to talk to the abducted bloke and then we can take things from there."

"Still though... talking to this dude isn't gonna save the world," Eric pointed out, tempering their newfound hope with a degree of realism.

"It's a start, though," Azleev insisted. "We've got to start somewhere."

"And hopefully he might be able to tell us stuff like timescales and stuff," Jixyl added. "And maybe he might even know how the Femlings are planning to do it."

"Yeah and the sooner we know exactly how they plan to do it, the sooner we can start thinking of ways to stop them," Azleev added. "Whereas at the moment we don't even know what they plan to do."

"Well, they plan to kill everyone, don't they?" Eric pointed out.

"Yeah, but we don't know specifically _how_ they're going to kill everyone," Azleev clarified.

"And you can't stop something from happening when you don't even know what the thing is that's gonna happen," Jixyl argued.

"Aye, I suppose," Eric begrudgingly acknowledged.

And so the three of them set about putting their plan into action.

Chapter Ten – Star Maker

The Planet Fem,

The Star Maker TV Studio...

"Technically excellent," Sylon Remell, the man behind the Star Maker show and one of the three judges, remarked. He paused just long enough to give the studio audience time to break into excitable applause, then continued, "but uninspiring." The cheers quickly transformed into pantomime boos.

"Oh, come on, Sylon!" Brinna Lopco, another of the three judges, remonstrated. "How can you criticise a performance like that? It was excellent!" she enthused.

"Yes, I agree," Sylon acknowledged. "Were you not listening? I've already said it was excellent. But at this stage of the competition excellent isn't good enough. All three of the contestants left in the competition are all exceptional singers. We're dealing with the best of the best at this stage." He turned to direct his attention to Kel Minky, the contestant they were presently discussing. "So if you want to be the one that takes the Star Maker crown this year then I'm afraid excellent isn't good enough. You need to reach out and connect with your audience. You need to leave your audience feeling exhilarated and inspired." Kel was gutted by Sylon's reaction but she was intelligent enough to put on a brave face and try to look like she was taking on board his advice, even though she secretly realised that Sylon didn't really know that much about music. Music, you see, wasn't Sylon's strong point. Ratings, were Sylon's strong point.

"She did that, Sylon!" Brinna exclaimed. "I think you must have been watching and listening to a different performance from the one I heard cos the performance I've just witnessed totally connected with her audience."

"Yeah, I'm with Brinna on this one," Morse Gralik, the third judge, endorsed.

"What did _you_ think?" Brinna remarked, addressing the studio audience. "Did you feel that was a performance you could connect with?"

The studio audience burst into cheers. Then after a few moments the cheers progressed into thunderous clapping, which then in turn progressed into chants of 'Kel! Kel! Kel!'

Brinna smiled smugly at Sylon as if to say, 'I told you so.' Sylon stuck to his role and placed an embarrassed expression on his face. Secretly though, he was feeling anything but embarrassed. He was feeling absolutely delighted. The show was running exactly to plan. Of the three contestants left in the final of Star Maker, Kel Minky was the one who had the potential to be the biggest star. Which in turn meant that she was also the one who had the potential to make Sylon the most money. And Sylon loved money. So he couldn't risk letting either Kib Lomack or Salu Ortsbo take the crown. Kel Minky was currently the bookies clear favourite, but Sylon had had his fingers burnt the previous year when the hot favourite had been beaten at the final post against the odds. Last year Slik Tamsin had been the hot favourite with the public, but the public knew this and therefore most people thought to themselves, 'He's totally popular so he's definitely going to win anyway, so I don't need to bother voting for him cos loads of other people will vote cos he's so popular.'

Unfortunately this 'other people will do it' attitude was shared by a considerable chunk of Slik's fans, so in the end hardly anyone ended up voting for him which allowed Plastic Folie to sneak in and steal the title from Slik's grasp.

Sylon estimated that this error has cost him in the region of two hundred million Femling credits, in terms of reduced ticket sales and reduced performance revenue generated by Plastic, due to his inferior popularity. Admittedly, this was an amount that would hardly cause a ripple to Sylon's credit account, but that wasn't the point. The point was Sylon gained his pleasure in life from making as much cash as he possibly could from every opportunity and on that occasion he had failed to do so. So he swore to himself that he would never make the same mistake again.

And so that was why he had decided, even before Kel had sang her performance, that he was going to play the bad guy. Acknowledge Kel's excellence but still throw in a sly unjust criticism somewhere along the line. Because in doing so he knew the general public would be sat in their homes screaming at their screens that Sylon was an absolute fool. He knew that criticising Kel Minky, especially when that criticism was totally unjust, would fire up anger in all of her fans and ensure that there was no repeat of the apathy of last year's final. After delivering his unjust criticisms all of Kel's many fans would be sat in their homes telling themselves that Sylon was an idiot who wouldn't recognise talent if it came up and bit him on the nose, and to prove to him what an idiot he was they were going to vote for Kel ten times to ensure she won by a landslide margin.

Meanwhile, Marnie Servet, one of the millions of Star Maker fans from around the planet Fem, was currently sat in her home screaming at the screen, "Hey, that Sylon is a total and utter fool! He wouldn't know talent if it came up and bit him on the nose!" As you can see, things were running exactly to Sylon's plan.

"It's just a pantomime," Yisk Bansin, Marnie's co-viewer and friend, remarked. "Don't take it too seriously." Star Maker was a show that polarised the viewing audience into two camps. Those that loved it and planned their lives around the TV schedules, and those that ranked its significance just below that of watching paint dry. Yisk fell firmly into the second category.

"And how can he compare Kib and Salu to Kel!?" Marnie exclaimed. "They're just not in the same league!"

"They sounded like decent singers to me," Jax Weeta, Marnie's other non-fanatical friend, remarked.

"They can sing," Marnie acknowledged, "but like Sylon says, being able to sing isn't enough at this stage of the competition." Neither Yisk nor Jax bothered to point out that only seconds earlier Marnie had been referring to Sylon as if he was the spawn of the devil, and yet now she was quoting him as an authority of good judgement. "You need more than just being a good singer. Kel's the complete package. Kib and Salu aren't. In fact I don't even know how Kib and Salu made it to the final, if I'm honest," Marnie continued. "People only vote for Kib cos his brother's in hospital from that crash and Salu has only made it this far cos of that campaign by her local radio station to get people to vote for 'the local girl.'" So clearly Marnie _did_ in fact know how Kib and Salu had made it to the final. "It should just be about the talent," Marnie continued, seemingly going back on her previous endorsement of Sylon's suggestion that it was about more than just talent at this stage of the competition. "People shouldn't vote out of sympathy or because they live near one of the singers."

Meanwhile, back in the studio the pleasantly likeable host, Keyla Lordim, was announcing to the viewing public that the phone lines were now open and they could now vote for their favourite contestant to decide who would be crowned the champion of this year's Star Maker.

Back in her flat, Marnie was already reaching for her phone. And around the planet Fem, millions more viewers were doing likewise.

And back in the studio, Sylon's smile was growing as big as his credit account.

Chapter Eleven – Not The End Of The World

Eric was pleasantly surprised to discover that, ironically, sabotaging the central telecommunications processor turned out to be the easy part of their plan. Jixyl and Azleev were mates with a student who studied Intergalactic Transmission Physics, so sabotaging the telecommunications system proved to be a piece of cake.

The hard part was getting MDC Worldwide, the company that produced the Jerry Springer rip-off programme, to reveal the contact details of the abductee.

"Look, this Hank dude's not gonna mind," Eric insisted, referring to Hank Truman, the dude that had appeared on the TV show to recall his alien abduction. "In fact he'll be chuffed. If he went on telly to tell everyone about him getting abducted and everyone was laughing at him and he still didn't mind, then he's obviously gonna jump at the chance to talk to someone who actually wants to hear what he has to say, rather than just laugh."

"I'm sorry, sir," the very officious receptionist at the MDC Worldwide head office replied. "It's company policy not to reveal our guests' personal details."

"But d'you not see what I'm saying?" Eric persisted. "This Hank dude isn't gonna object... so what's the problem?"

"The problem, sir, is that it's company policy not to divulge that information," the receptionist responded.

"It's alright. You don't have to call uz 'sir'," Eric remarked.

"I'm just being polite, sir," the receptionist replied.

"Well I'd rather you were helpful than polite," Eric answered.

"Sorry, sir. I'd love to be helpful, but in this situation it's..."

"...company policy," Eric interrupted. "Aye, I know. You said."

Jixyl and Azleev had until now been quietly observing Eric's attempts at acquiring Hank Truman's contact details, but they realised he was going to have little success with his current approach and so decided a new approach was needed.

"Look, we understand that you have to respect your guests' privacy," Azleev accepted. "That's a commendable attitude. So how about _you_ contact Hank and let _him_ decide if he wants to meet us? How about you give Hank a call and let him know that a few students would like to interview him for a project we're doing regarding alien abductees? Then leave it to him to decide if he wants to meet us. If he says he's not interested then fine, we'll go on our way, but if he wants to meet us then the onus is on him to make the first move. And that way your company policy remains intact but at the same time the abductee gets the opportunity to decide if he'd like to tell his story."

'Hmm, 'onus'. That's quite an intelligent word for me,' Eric thought to himself. Technically, Azleev had been the one who used it, but given that the G.O.T. had drawn the word from Eric's brain he consequently felt quite impressed with his apparent expansive vocabulary.

The receptionist considered Azleev's words for a moment. "Yes, I think that would be acceptable, sir," she eventually decided, and she began looking up Hank's details on her computer.

"Ar, class!" Eric exclaimed. He had been starting to worry that all of their efforts at decommissioning the central telecommunications processor were going to go to waste. However, Eric's newly acquired hope was soon crushed when the receptionist rang the abductee only to get his answering machine.

"I'm sorry, sir," she apologised, "but he isn't picking up right now."

"Well could you keep trying," Eric suggested.

"I'm sorry sir, but I have other work besides..."

"That's okay," Azleev interrupted. "We've already imposed upon your time more than is polite."

"Yeah, thanks for your help," Jixyl agreed, "but we'll be on our way now."

"Eh? What are yous on about, man?" Eric questioned, confused by their lack of persistence. "Just try one more time."

"No, really. That's fine," Azleev smiled, and he began walking out of the reception.

"Come on, Eric. We haven't got time to waste," Jixyl remarked, cajoling Eric to follow him.

"I know. That's why I'm trying to..." He suddenly realised that Jixyl and Azleev's behaviour was slightly strange and therefore suspected that there was something they weren't telling him. His curiosity soon got the better of him and so he followed the pair of them outside. "So how come you don't want to contact this abducted dude anymore?" he asked.

"We do," Azleev explained. He began typing a number into his mobile phone. "That's what I'm doing now."

"Eh? How d'you know his number, like?" Eric inquired.

"Well the woman typed it out right in front of us," Jixyl shrugged. "Did you not see her?"

"Well, yeah," Eric acknowledged. "But his number'll be, like, about eleven digits long, like."

Jixyl looked at Eric as if this information was totally irrelevant. "And?" he shrugged.

Eric suddenly realised that Jixyl and Azleev possibly had far superior short term memories than humans. "So can you remember eleven digits easily, can you?"

"Well of course," Jixyl confirmed. "Can you not, like?"

Eric was about to answer when Azleev gave them an update on his call to Hank Truman.

"He's still not answering," he revealed.

"Leave a message on his voicemail, then," Eric suggested. "And we'll have to hope he checks his voicemail before they get the central telecommunications processor up and running again."

"No need," Azleev remarked. "We can just follow the signal. It'll lead us to his phone and hopefully to Hank."

"Hey, your phones are class, like," Eric praised. The more he learnt about Jixyl and Azleev's planet and technology and way of life, the more he sort of half told himself that it wouldn't be the end of the world if mankind _did_ get destroyed. Well obviously _literally_ it would be the end of the world, but metaphorically he wouldn't be too bothered. Well actually, no, he would be totally gutted for everyone if they all got killed, but on the other hand, every cloud has a silver lining...

"It's coming from Las Vegas," Azleev revealed.

"So Las Vegas here we come," Jixyl announced.

"Ar, class! Vegas!" Eric exclaimed. "I've always wanted to go to Vegas!"

"It's not a sight-seeing trip," Azleev reminded him.

"Ar, I know," Eric acknowledged. "I just meant it's good cos... well, you know, like... Vegas is in the middle of the desert so it should be easy to find a landing spot for the spaceship."

Jixyl and Azleev weren't convinced by Eric's quickly concocted explanation for his enthusiasm, but they weren't in the mood to discuss the point further and so they headed straight to their spaceship and then set a course for the city that never sleeps.

Chapter Twelve – Carrots

Eric sat in the alien spaceship pondering on what to do regarding the text message he had received from Jeemia. The one about 'shagging a black guy.' When he had first read it he had to admit that he didn't feel too much sympathy for Jixyl, what with his probable intentions to destroy mankind and all that, but since then his opinion of Jixyl and Azleev had changed dramatically. Even before he had seen the video of the Grand Emperor of Fem delivering his 'Quality Of Life' speech, he had been starting to trust them, but since seeing the video he was virtually convinced that they were telling the truth.

Which meant he should probably tell Jixyl that his girlfriend was cheating on him. Eric's main concern though, was 'shoot the messenger' syndrome, i.e. he suspected that if he told Jixyl about his two-timing girlfriend then Jixyl might then decide to take out his anger on Eric.

So to avoid this possibility Eric convinced himself that it was therefore okay to withhold the information from Jixyl for a little longer. Just until a suitable opportunity to discuss it presented itself.

In anticipation of this suitable opportunity presenting itself, Eric decided it was a good idea to subtly quiz Jixyl and asses his psychological characteristics in order to allow him to break the bad news in a way that Jixyl would find most palatable.

And so Eric decided to start up a conversation about lasses in general and then gradually work the conversation towards the direction he wanted.

"So what do you reckon of the lasses on Earth, then?" he asked.

"That woman at the TV company offices was a bit of a nightmare," Jixyl answered.

"Nar, man. I'm not on about that woman at the TV place," Eric explained. "I mean in terms of fitness."

"Well she wasn't very fit, like," Jixyl remarked.

"No, man. I know that," Eric responded. "I was talking about, like, fit lasses."

"Ar, _fit_ lasses? Ar, right. Yeah, _fit_ lasses are fit," Jixyl sarcastically replied in his most sarcastic tone of voice. On this occasion G.O.T. managed to correctly convey his sarcasm, although this wasn't strictly necessary as Eric picked up straight away that he was mocking him, albeit in a good natured manner.

"Nar, man. I don't mean, like, do you think fit lasses are fit?" Eric clarified. "Cos obviously fit lasses are fit... hence the expression 'fit lasses'. I mean not including daft old women like that woman at the TV company. Like, normal non-old lasses... how do they compare to lasses on your planet?"

"If I'm being objective I'd say the cream of Earth is a match for lasses on Fyra," Jixyl replied, "...but it's just that the cream on Fyra is more to my specific taste."

"Yeah, I'd go along with that," Azleev agreed, with a smirk on his face.

"And do you get to taste much cream?" Eric asked, continuing the metaphor. He was pleased that the conversation seemed to be going in the direction he wanted.

"You can't ask that," Azleev replied, defensively.

"Why not?" Eric quizzed, although he already suspected the answer. He guessed that it was similar to his reason for being uncomfortable discussing his top five fantasies, namely that he had never completed a top five fantasy to his total satisfaction. In all probability Eric assumed that likewise the reason Azleev was uncomfortable discussing the regularity with which he got to taste cream was because he got to taste cream a lot less frequently than he would like.

"Because I don't want to discuss cream," Azleev asserted.

"What about you, Jixyl?" Eric queried. "D'you get to taste a lot of cream?"

"Yeah, but unfortunately it's always from the same carton," Jixyl sighed.

Eric took a few moments to translate this metaphor into plain English and couldn't help thinking that a future version of G.O.T. could perhaps incorporate this feature. "Does that mean you're seeing someone?" he inquired, already knowing the answer. "But you'd ideally prefer a bit of variety?"

"Yeah," Jixyl confirmed. "Well...no. I'm just joking about the variety bit, I suppose. But yeah, I'm seeing someone."

"A lass or a lad?" Eric joked.

"A lass, you cheeky git," Jixyl retorted. I should probably apologise for Jixyl's reply which will no doubt be interpreted as homophobic by some readers. However, it should be noted that I am merely reporting Jixyl's response, not condoning it (nor condemning it). Basically, all I'm saying is don't shoot the messenger, but feel free to shoot the message, even though I personally would promote a greater tolerance of unpolitically correct comedy when no malice is attached.

"What's she like, then?" Eric asked.

"Alright," Jixyl shrugged. Eric couldn't help noticing that there didn't appear to be much enthusiasm in Jixyl's voice, nor in his body language. Eric was quite pleased about this as it meant Jixyl would hopefully be less upset when he discovered his girlfriend had shagged a black dude.

Eric then proceeded to ask one or two more gentle questions about Jixyl's girlfriend but Jixyl didn't seem particularly keen to answer them so Eric decided this would be a good point to drop the conversation. For some reason Jixyl seemed more keen to finalise the details of how they were going to approach Hank Truman.

After a brief discussion they all agreed that it would be best if Eric was the one that spoke to Hank and told him they needed his help. Given Hank's inevitable distrust of all things alien this was altogether the most logical approach. So they fixed up Eric with Hank's address and then agreed to follow a suitable distance behind to keep an eye on things.

Although their spaceship was equipped with light refraction displacement technology, as previously discussed the technology was only effective from twenty metres and upwards, which prevented them from parking right outside Hank's house, so they instead decided to park up in the Nevada Desert just a little way out of Vegas. They then proceeded to follow the mobile phone signal towards Hank's home. Eric was hoping Hank would live right at the centre of the main strip, but as they made their way into Vegas, Eric couldn't help noticing that it seemed that Hank actually lived in a particularly dodgy area of town and the further they followed the signal the dodgier the locale became.

"This is starting to get a bit dodgy now, like," Eric observed.

"Yeah, I was thinking that as well," Azleev agreed.

"I don't know why _you're_ worried," Jixyl declared, directing his comment towards Eric. "You totally chinned Azleev no problems when we first met you. I thought you were totally solid. Like, I know some of the people we've passed look like dodgy characters but I would have thought you'd be able to look after yourself."

"Well I can in general," Eric confirmed, "but that doesn't mean I want to deliberately put myself in a dodgy position. The first thing our Tae Kwon Do teacher taught us was that if you're ever in a dodgy position then the best form of defence, like, better than anything else you can do, is to run away as fast as you can."

"It's a pity you didn't follow that advice when we first met," Azleev reflected.

"Aye, well I was in a confined area, wasn't I?" Eric pointed out. "I had no choice but to fight. Anyway, all I'm saying is do yous fancy walking a bit quicker? Just cos it feels like there's some dodgy characters around here, like."

"Yeah, no worries," Jixyl concurred. "If you're scared I don't mind walking a bit faster."

Eric smirked at Jixyl's sly little comedy dig, but in any case it was only a couple of minutes before they arrived at Hank's home and they encountered no trouble on the way. Jixyl and Azleev waited around the corner while Eric walked up Hank's driveway and rang the bell. Within a few seconds Hank answered the door.

He looked at Eric but didn't speak.

"Alright," Eric greeted, nodding his head. "I saw you on that TV show the other week talking about the aliens and I need to, like, talk to you cos I've been abducted as well."

Hank continued to look at Eric, his face expressionless. He still didn't speak, which made Eric feel as if he had to explain himself further.

"Like, well basically the aliens that abducted me weren't the same ones that abducted you, but my aliens know about your aliens and they reckon if you tell them everything you know about your aliens then they might be able to think of a plan to save the Earth from getting destroyed."

Hank continued to stare at Eric. He was looking him over in the style that you would examine a car before deciding whether to buy it or not.

"So, like, do you reckon you could tell uz everything you know about their plan to kill us all?" Eric requested. "Just cos then I could tell the friendly aliens and they might be able to help us."

It has to be said that Eric didn't feel like it was going too well so far. However, after a few more moments Hank finally spoke, which raised Eric's hopes just as they were about to hit rock bottom. "Come inside," he instructed.

Eric did as he was told and stepped into Hank's hallway. Hank then ushered him into the living room. It was a fairly standard looking room, with a settee, TV, table and not much else. Eric turned around expecting to be offered a seat, but instead he couldn't help noticing that Hank was instead pointing a gun at his head.

"Flip!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing!?"

"I'm pointing a Magnum revolver at your alien ass," Hank replied. "So you better make darn sure you give me straight answers when I ask you a few questions!"

Eric couldn't help noticing that Hank's gun was quite clearly pointing at his head and not his 'ass' like Hank had claimed, but he decided that this possibly wasn't the most appropriate moment to give Hank an anatomy lesson and so instead he replied, "Yeah, definitely. No worries. Honestly, I'll totally tell you the truth and all that... but I promise you, I haven't got an alien ass, like. I swear down, it's a human ass."

Hank took a couple of menacing steps towards Eric. "I'll be the judge of that," he threatened.

"Ar, yeah. Definitely," Eric agreed. "But I'm just saying, like... my ass is definitely of the human variety."

"Put your hands up!" Hank ordered. Eric immediately did as he was told.

Eric had made an agreement with Jixyl and Azleev that if things weren't going too well he would press the 'help' button on his mobile phone to warn them to come and help him, but the one flaw with this plan was that he hadn't expected Hank to be pointing a gun at his head. The gun pointing at his head probably meant it wasn't such a good idea to reach into his pocket and start pressing buttons, in case this annoyed Hank. Eric now realised that the plan was more tailored towards a situation where Hank engaged in a friendly chat, rather than a situation where Hank pointed a gun at his head. On reflection Eric realised that it was a fundamentally flawed plan, given that if Hank was engaging in friendly conversation there wouldn't be much need to press the 'help' button. Eric made a mental note to make better plans in future.

Hank took another step towards Eric. By now the gun was right in front of Eric's nose and was making him go a bit cross-eyed.

Eric had only once before had a gun pointed at him and on that occasion he had been extremely frightened. He now discovered that it wasn't an experience that became less scary the more you encountered it.

"Why are you really here?" Hank demanded.

Eric suddenly glanced wide-eyed over Hank's right shoulder towards the door, then raised his eyebrows and let out a surprised "Flip!" Hank instinctively half-glanced in the same direction. Eric in turn instinctively grabbed Hank's gun-holding hand in a hooking block with his right hand, then quickly placed his left hand over Hank's elbow, then powerfully thrust Hank's forearm backwards towards his shoulder. Well actually, significantly beyond his shoulder to be accurate. In any case, further than the human body was designed to bend without suffering damage.

It takes quite a while to explain the whole process of what Eric did but it didn't take very long at all to action. Less than half a second probably, which was why Hank was lying on the floor in agony well before he had a chance to fire his gun.

"Argh! You've broke my freaking arm!" he exclaimed.

"I haven't, man. I'll have just damaged your ligaments," Eric reassured him, as he calmly picked up Hank's gun and tossed it well out of reach into the corner of the room.

If this was a movie Eric might have instead pointed the gun at Hank's head in a menacing manner to create a bit of tension, but Eric had only fired a gun once in his entire life, whereas he had sparred hundreds of times, so he understandably had a lot more confidence in his unarmed sparring abilities than he did in his gun-firing abilities.

Plus, he didn't particularly want to kill Hank as that would significantly reduce his chances of getting Hank to tell him what he knew about the Femlings' plans.

"Argh! My arm! My freaking arm! It's broken!" Hank meanwhile insisted.

"Look, man! It's not," Eric assured him. Eric's patience wasn't the most resilient in the world and by now he was becoming a little bit irritated by Hank's scepticism. "Trust uz... I know the consequences of my self-defence moves."

"Argh! Argh! It definitely feels broken," Hank cried, placing greater trust in the absolute agony he was feeling than in the assuring words of Eric, even though they were confidently delivered.

"Here, man! If I'd wanted to break your arm I would have grabbed your wrist, pulled your arm out tight..." Eric acted out the actions as he described them. "...and then twisted my left forearm hard into your elbow joint, following right through, and following it up with a further twisting blow if it was necessary. Not that it would have been necessary, like, cos I've practised that move hundreds of times." Eric contemplated his claim for a moment. "Well actually, probably thousands."

Hank rolled about on the floor in the hope that this would help alleviate his pain. His hopes met without fulfilment.

"Actually that would probably have been the safer option cos then I would have been stepping away from the gun..." Eric mused. He ran through the moves again, seemingly unconcerned by Hank's pain. "...whereas the move I chose meant I was still standing pretty close to the gun." Eric quickly ran through the actions of the two moves once again to compare their relative safeness. "Nar actually, they were both probably as safe as each other... cos when I grabbed your wrist with the hooking block I'm pushing your hand down and away from uz... so I wasn't really in any danger."

It has to be said, Hank didn't seem particularly interested in Eric's explanation as to what was the safest move to action. And as he rolled around in agony he couldn't help noticing that there didn't appear to be anyone, or indeed anything, in the direction that Eric had glanced wide-eyed moments before he had performed said move.

"What were you looking at?" Hank inquired.

Eric's eyes had a bit of a confused look to them. "Well... fresh air, obviously," he shrugged. "It was obviously just a trick, like. Like, considering that you were pointing a gun at my head, it would have had to have been a _totally_ amazing occurrence to have been of greater significance than my possible impending death. Like, on a scale of one to ten for amazingness, we're talking at least five and a half million."

"Aa - oo - argh!" Hank whimpered. "It hurts like freaking heck."

"I tell you what's good to do when you're in extreme pain," Eric remarked, helpfully.

"What?" Hank asked.

"Don't fucking point fucking guns at people when they tell you they're not a fucking alien," Eric replied, a delayed surge of anger seeping into his voice. "That way you don't get your fucking ligaments damaged. Understand?"

On reflection, Hank couldn't help wishing he had followed this advice. "Sorry," he stuttered, not feeling quite so brave as he did a few moments earlier when he had the gun in his hand.

"And while I'm at it I'll give you some more advice," Eric continued. "If you're pointing a gun at someone's head, don't tell them to stick their hands up. Cos all you're doing is moving their hands closer to your gun and therefore making it easier for them to disarm you." Eric looked down at Hank and shook his head derisorily. "That's, like, a basic schoolboy error you made there, like. No offence, like, but you obviously don't have a clue with guns and all that, so I'd get rid of the gun in future if I was you."

"Sorry, but I thought you were an alien," Hank snivelled.

"Here, man! If I was an alien how d'you think I would be speaking in a Geordie accent? G.O.T. would translate my alien language into the language you think in, which is American, so I would obviously sound American to you, wouldn't I?" Eric logisticised. "But I don't sound American, do I? I sound Geordie so therefore I must actually be Geordie and not an alien. You see, if you'd actually bothered to think about it instead of being a complete chump about it and diving in head first like a big hard muppet, you wouldn't be rolling about in agony now and instead you'd be thinking, 'Hmm, excellent news. I've met a fellow abductee so maybe we can work together to save mankind.'"

Hank stared at Eric blankly.

"All I'm saying is you should have used your common sense and thought about the logic behind G.O.T.," Eric declared, "instead of diving in like a trigger happy macho fool."

"What's G.O.T.?" Hank inquired, looking as confused as ever.

"Ar, of course!" Eric exclaimed. "You met the snidey aliens, didn't you? They probably didn't tell you about G.O.T. Or maybe they call it by a different name."

So Eric went on to explain the principles behind G.O.T. to Hank. After hearing his explanation, Hank appeared to seem a little more trusting of Eric, although Eric wasn't sure if this was due to genuine trust or whether Hank was just scared of Eric inflicting further pain and therefore pretending to trust him in order to avoid getting on his bad side again.

Eric realised that his angry outburst had been a mistake. He needed Hank to tell him everything he knew and losing his temper with him possibly wasn't the best way to go about things. Above all else he had to reassure Hank that his ass was well and truly of the human variety and not the slightest bit alien in any way, shape or form.

"Look, I'm sorry for losing my rag a bit before," Eric apologised, "but in my defence you _had_ just pointed a gun at my head." Hank was still in pain but he did his best to appear attentive. "And I promise you I'm not an alien, but like I said I _have_ been abducted so I know you were telling the truth on that telly programme... so I just had to make sure you didn't kill uz cos I might be the only person that can save mankind from the aliens."

Since his abduction Eric had more or less been his usual care-free self. Obviously meeting aliens and all that had changed him a little bit, but his overall outlook had more or less stayed the same. But as he spoke that last sentence out loud he realised the enormity of the situation he currently found himself in. The fate of mankind might rest in his hands.

"Flip!" he exclaimed, staring into space in front of him.

Hank glanced in the same direction as Eric and couldn't help noticing that once again there was nothing there. "There's nothing there," he remarked.

"Hmm?" Eric muttered, absent-mindedly. "Ar... nar. I wasn't saying 'Flip!' at something I'd seen. I was saying 'Flip!' cos I've just realised that the future of mankind might rest in my hands." Eric shook his head in disbelief. "Like... flip!" he repeated. "Total and utter flip! In fact... nar. Fuck! Never mind just 'flip!' Definitely 'fuck!' Mankind's future might rest in _my_ hands! Like... woah!!!"

"In my hands as well," Hank interjected, feeling somewhat left out.

"Well, yeah," Eric acknowledged, "but let's be honest, _your_ hands aren't going to be much good now that I've damaged your ligaments."

"Are you sure my arm isn't broken?" Hank queried once again. "It definitely feels worse than just damaged ligaments."

"Honestly, trust uz. Just think about it. If I'm twisting your arm back like that..." Eric once again demonstrated the actions. "...then there's no pressure on the actual bones. It's just your joint that takes all the stress... and that's why your ligaments are the first thing to go."

"Well what's the second thing to go?" Hank quizzed. "Cos it definitely feels like my bones were the second thing to go."

"Look, man!" Eric was about to lose his rag again, but this time he just about managed to bite his tongue. He softened the tone of his voice considerably. "We need to focus on the issue at hand. You need to forget about your arm and focus on the aliens. We need to work together and pool all the information we know so that we can hopefully come up with a plan to stop the aliens."

So Eric told Hank everything that had happened to him over the last couple of days involving the Fyralings. Then Hank told Eric everything he knew about the Femlings, which unfortunately wasn't as much as Eric had hoped. Eric was hoping for a 'Death Star scenario' whereby the Femlings' planet would ideally have a built-in two metre exhaust shaft and all you had to do was fire a missile into the exhaust shaft and the entire planet would blow up. Unfortunately though, the Femlings hadn't been quite as foolish as the Empire and there was no magic 'Death Star scenario'. In fact the only extra information Hank was able to add to the situation was the alien's chosen method of destroying mankind.

They were going to create a disease. A disease to kill every single human on Earth. And Eric also learnt that they weren't just going to destroy mankind. They were going to destroy all life of every shape and form. Every animal. Every insect. Every plant. Every flower. Even every fluffy little kitten! Eric learnt that the Femlings were officially total and utter snides. No life form was going to be exempt from their evil plans of destruction.

This only served to fire Eric up and make him all the more determined to thwart their dastardly plans. And not just to save mankind either, although admittedly that was a big part of his motivation. But now Eric also had a secondary motivation. Now he also wanted to spite the Femlings. There was nothing Eric hated more than a total and utter snide, and as the aliens were unarguably total and utter snides, he was all the more determined to prevent them from succeeding.

And he took hope from their chosen method of destroying mankind. If the aliens were going to create a disease then surely all they needed to do to stop them was create a cure. So Eric thanked Hank for his time, exchanged mobile numbers and e-mail addresses (he stopped short of getting his facebook details as he didn't want to be publicly associated with someone he considered to be an unhinged freak) and then left to return to Jixyl and Azleev.

As he headed outside he couldn't help feeling a bit nervous in case Hank reported him to the police for damaging his ligaments. He quickly dismissed this concern, however, as he seemed pretty sure now that Hank had realised that he wasn't an alien and he was therefore pretty sure that Hank would do everything he could to help him in his quest to thwart the Femlings' plans, and grassing Eric up to the police therefore wouldn't be a very wise thing to do.

Besides, the only scenario under which Hank was likely to grass Eric up to the police was if he still secretly suspected that Eric was an alien and in such a scenario going to the police and saying, 'Ar, this alien damaged my ligaments,' wasn't likely to get the police to take him very seriously.

"How did it go?" Azleev asked, as Eric arrived back at the pre-arranged meeting point.

"Well, alright... I suppose," Eric shrugged. "It didn't start too well, though. He pointed a gun at uz and thought I was an alien. But then I explained to him about G.O.T. and how I was talking with a Geordie accent, and I think he realised after that that he'd been a bit of a chump."

"So did he tell you anything useful, then?" Jixyl inquired, getting to the point.

"Just that they're gonna try and kill everyone using a disease," Eric revealed, "and get this, right... they're gonna kill everything! Not just humans! Like, even animals and plants and stuff."

"You're not some radjee hippy dude, are you?" Jixyl inquired.

"Nar, but it's still a bit snidey, though," Eric proclaimed.

"What, so killing all humans would have been okay, but killing animals and plants is crossing the line, is it?" Jixyl asked, sarcastically.

"Nar, obviously not," Eric defended. "But I mean, like, you reckoned their motivation is that our quality of life isn't high enough so they're gonna kill us all out of deluded kindness. Well aye, with humans I can understand that cos, like, aye, some humans experience totally bad suffering and stuff but, like... what about carrots?"

"Carrots?" Azleev replied.

"Aye, carrots. Like, what suffering do carrots experience?" Eric asked. "I would say carrots have a pretty much pain free life, like. I can't see how they can justify killing carrots using the 'quality of life' argument."

"Well it can't be a barrel of laughs being a carrot, like," Jixyl argued.

"Aye, fair enough, admittedly carrots don't live a fun-filled life of partying it up every night," Eric conceded, "but they've still got a fairly decent standard of living, like."

"Well would you want to be a carrot, like?" Jixyl inquired.

"Well, nar. Obviously not... but I've got a totally class life," Eric explained. "If I was someone with a totally rubbish life, though... like, say if I had a horrible disease or something, then mebbees then I'd rather be a carrot. You'd get to just lie about all day, chilling out... no stresses or nothing..."

"...and then a few months later someone pulls you out of the ground and eats you," Azleev interrupted. "Hardly the greatest life if you ask me."

"I still think it's a bit snidey to kill all vegetables, though," Eric insisted.

"Well do you not eat vegetables, like?" Jixyl asked.

"Well... aye," Eric admitted.

"Well does that not sort of kill them?" Jixyl questioned, rhetorically.

"Aye," Eric acknowledged, "but I don't kill them cos of the 'quality of life' argument, though. I eat them cos of the 'Mmm, this tastes nice' argument."

"Ar, well that's _so_ much better," Jixyl replied, sarcastically.

"Well aye. Course it is!" Eric insisted. "It's okay to kill something if you get pleasure out of it." The obvious incorrectness of this statement suddenly hit home to him. "Well obviously not people, like," he quickly corrected, "but, like, carrots are obviously okay. But the Femlings are just gonna kill carrots not for the pleasure, but just cos they think carrots have got a rubbish life."

"How is it okay to kill carrots just cos they taste nice?" Azleev inquired.

Eric thought for a moment. "Well it's not really classed as killing, like," he remarked. "I mean... they're only carrots."

"Well you're the one that's making such a fuss about them!" Jixyl pointed out.

"Aye, but only cos..." Eric realised that the argument was about to go around in circles and distracting them from the real issue at hand, namely how to stop the aliens from killing all life forms on Earth, one of which just so happened to be carrots.

"Anyway, if they're gonna use a disease to kill everyone then that's good, isn't it?" Eric remarked. "Cos that means all we have to do is create an antidote."

"Ar, aye. No problem," Jixyl sarcastically replied. Actually Jixyl was currently in a particularly sarcastic mood so to save me a bit of time in future just take it for granted that most of Jixyl's remarks are sarcastic and that way it'll save me the bother of having to mention his sarcastic tone every time in future. Anyway, where was I? Ar yeah... "I'll just snap my fingers and hey presto, I'll magically come up with a cure just like that," Jixyl replied, sarcas... I mean, Jixyl replied. He just replied.

"Ar, I'm not saying it'll be easy," Eric acknowledged. "I'm just saying though... like, if yous can come up with the science to travel intergalactic distances and if you can come up with really cool phones and stuff, then you should be able to invent an antidote as well."

"If they're gonna kill every life form on Earth, including carrots, then that means they're gonna have to come up with loads of different diseases," Azleev reasoned, "by virtue of the fact that every different life form has a different biological structure. Therefore some life forms are gonna be naturally immune to some of the diseases they create, due to their different DNA and stuff, so that means they're gonna have to come up with loads of different diseases. So that means in turn we'd need to come up with a different antidote for every disease which makes things extremely difficult."

"Well... just let the carrots and stuff die," Eric shrugged.

"Ar, you've sharp changed your tune, like!" Jixyl laughed. "A minute ago it was all, 'Oh, the poor carrots! What have the carrots ever done to hurt anyone?' and now all of a sudden you're, like, 'Well just let the carrots die!' Remind uz never to rely on you in my hour of need."

"No, I'm just saying though..."

"Yeah, stuff the carrots, eh?" Azleev chuckled.

"No, man. I'm not saying that," Eric remonstrated. "I'm just acknowledging that obviously it'll be hard to come up with antidotes for every disease, so make saving humans the priority and then after that if you've got any time left _then_ you can try and find an antidote for the carrots and stuff."

"So if we save humans but all animals and plants die, then what are you gonna eat?" Azleev asked.

Eric racked his brains for a few seconds. "Hmm, good point, I suppose," he begrudgingly conceded. "Well, try and save cows as well... cos I like steak. Actually, make it deer that you save, cos I love venison even more than normal steak."

"Well, it might not be easy. I'm not being deliberately pessimistic, like, or nothing," Jixyl explained. "I'm just pointing out that it's not gonna be as easy as you seemed to initially think."

"Ar I'm not saying it's gonna be a doddle, like," Eric agreed. "It's a possibility that's worth pursuing, though."

"Ar, well that's very reassuring to hear," Jixyl remarked. "What with your extensive knowledge of Femling biological warfare methods and your extensive knowledge of our antidotal scientific capabilities, like."

Eric laughed. "Aye, admittedly I don't know what I'm on about, like," he admitted. "But apart from that..."

"Aye, apart from the fact that you don't know what you're on about," Jixyl interrupted, "it's quite a compelling argument that you make."

"Well have yous got a better plan, have yous?" Eric asked.

"No. Trying to make loads of antidotes might turn out to be the best plan we can come up with," Azleev answered, once again being the voice of reason. "All we're saying though, is don't get your hopes up and think it's a plan which will definitely work... cos we might not be able to even actually come up with any antidotes. For starters, we can't actually start working on any antidote until we know what the disease is. And by the time we get the antidote created the disease might have wiped out half the planet."

"Or even worse. Even mebbees the whole planet," Jixyl added.

"So basically, what you're saying is that we're fucked," Eric replied.

" _You're_ fucked," Jixyl corrected. " _We're_ alright."

"Aye, cheers," Eric smirked. "So can I come and live on your planet, then?"

"Maybe as a last resort," Azleev sort of half-promised, "but being positive, it's pretty hard to create a disease. So if that's the Femlings' plan then it could take them another couple of years before they've got enough diseases created to kill everything."

"Maybe even longer," Jixyl added, optimistically.

"And in the mean time," Azleev continued, "you never know... we might come up with a better plan."

"Ar, well. A couple of years is better than nothing, I suppose," Eric shrugged. "And if we've got a couple of years to spare that means we could mebbees have a couple of hours in the casinos," he suggested, hopefully. "Just, like, I mean, like, while we're in Vegas, like... it'd be stupid not to have a bit of a flutter."

Jixyl and Azleev were actually quite keen to experience the flashing lights of Vegas for themselves and so they agreed to Eric's suggestion and headed off towards the famous Las Vegas strip.

Chapter Thirteen – Snatching Defeat From The Jaws Of Victory

Eric strutted out of the casino onto the Las Vegas strip feeling extremely smug with himself. The source of his smugness was the big wad of notes that currently filled his wallet.

"Yes... chuffedness!!" he beamed.

"M.D.P.T. wasn't designed to be used for personal profit," Azleev remarked. M.D.P.T. stood for Mechanical and Digital Predictive Technology. It was a feature on Eric's phone.

"Well why not?" Eric asked.

"Cos it was meant to be used to cut down on research time and improve safety and stuff," Azleev explained. M.D.P.T. was a clever feature that could analyse its mechanical or electronic surroundings and predict the outcome of a future event. As Azleev had just explained, the main purpose of M.D.P.T. on its initial introduction was to cut down on the time and expense involved in most areas of scientific research by predicting a result (with 98.675% accuracy) without actually having to perform the said operation. As it became established though, the technology developed and eventually became honed to the point where it was used as a safety instrument for analysing mechanical devices and checking for any potential dangers before accidents happened. It had cut down on Fyraling-made disasters on Fyra by almost four percent which probably doesn't sound as impressive as you were expecting, but this figure would have been a lot higher if it wasn't for Fyraling error. Basically, after the introduction of M.D.P.T. many Fyralings became overconfident in their approach to safety, and so a lot of the safety gains made by the introduction of M.D.P.T. were cancelled out by the complacency of Fyraling nature (which was very like human nature).

"Aye, it was invented as a tool to benefit society," Jixyl added.

"Well I'm part of society," Eric argued, "and it's certainly been very beneficial to me." Eric had used his mobile phone to predict which pokies were the most likely to pay out.

"It was meant to benefit society as a whole," Azleev explained. "Not just certain individuals."

"You see, you've gotta think outside the box sometimes," Eric reasoned. "Play-Doh was originally intended as a wallpaper cleaner but then some clever dude thought to himself, 'Hmm, this would make a really cool toy,' so he re-marketed it as a cool modelling clay type product and the rest is history."

Jixyl and Azleev gave Eric a confused stare.

"And you see, that's basically what I've done with M.D.P.T.," Eric continued. "I've thought, 'Yes, it has very good uses, but maybe I can come up with a better use for it which could be beneficial in other ways.' In this case... financially beneficial ways."

"Tell you what... get the scran in and we won't go on about it anymore," Jixyl bargained.

"Fair enough," Eric agreed. "What d'you fancy?"

At that moment Azleev noticed a sign outside a casino which read 'Roast Chicken Platter'. "Mmm, I could quite fancy some roast chicken, like," he suggested.

"Nar, I'm not really in the mood for chicken," Eric replied. He then noticed the next line of the sign. It read, 'Tonight: bikini mud wrestling.' "Actually, aye... chicken sounds good," he suddenly reconsidered.

They made their way through the casino into the restaurant/bar/bikini mud wrestling arena at the back, found themselves ringside seats then proceeded to order three roast chicken platters, together with one beer and two orange juices.

"I reckon that waitress fancied you, like, Jixyl," Eric remarked, as the waitress took their orders off to the kitchen.

"She was just being friendly cos it's her job," Jixyl disputed. "She didn't fancy uz."

"I dunno, like," Azleev purported, agreeing with Eric. "She definitely seemed to be a bit more friendly with you than with me and Eric."

"Hey, you know what you should invent?" Eric suggested.

"What?" Jixyl inquired.

"H.P.T.," Eric replied. "It could be a new feature on your mobile phones and it would be a bit like M.D.P.T., only H.P.T. would stand for Hormonal Predictive Technology. And you could, like, use your H.P.T. to find out which lasses fancy you and stuff."

Jixyl looked at Eric with a smirk on his face.

"Ar... and it could also predict what sort of horny stuff they're into," Eric added. "That'd be cool if yous could invent that, like."

"Aye, it would, like," Jixyl laughed.

"But remember, it was my idea," Eric added. "Just for when you're dishing out the royalties and all that."

"Fyraling credits are worthless on Earth," Azleev pointed out.

"Well you could pay uz in pounds, then," Eric suggested, helpfully.

"We don't have pounds on Fyra," Azleev replied.

"And besides," Jixyl added, "you can't just come up with an idea and say you want the royalties for it. If that was the case I could say, 'Ar, I've come up with the idea for this pill that cures all diseases.' But then someone would go, 'Ar, that sounds excellent, like. What's the formula for it and, like, how do you make it?' and I'd be, like, 'Ar, I dunno. I've just come up with the idea. I can't actually make it.' And then they'd be all, like, 'Ar, well you're a total chump, then. Cos anyone can come up with an idea. It's turning that idea into reality that deserves the credit.'

Eric chuckled at Jixyl's sarky speech. "Well, even if I can't get any royalties out of it, I still reckon it'd be worth inventing, like," he persisted.

"I'll bear that in mind the next time I bump into the leading research scientists of Fyra," Jixyl mocked.

A few moments later the waitress returned with their drinks. Eric took a big gulp of his beer, then grinned at Jixyl and Azleev smugly. "Aye, it's a gutter how you can't drink alcohol, like," he commented, with fake sympathy.

"Aye, it's a pity they don't sell diquintenol," Jixyl replied. "I could just fancy a few DQs, like."

By now Eric had reached the point where he totally and utterly trusted Jixyl and Azleev. In fact he trusted them so much that it seemed weird to think that there had actually been a time when he thought they were going to kill all mankind. Eric considered himself to be an astute judge of character, but he had to admit that on this occasion his initial judgement had been extremely wide of the mark.

Besides, he basically had no choice but to trust them. If they were telling the truth, which Eric was virtually convinced of by now, then they were mankind's only hope for survival. And if somehow it still turned out that they were full of patter, which seemed implausible now that Eric had seen the 'Quality Of Life' video, then it didn't really matter anyway because the Femlings were still going to try to kill all mankind, so he had nothing to lose by trusting them.

But this wasn't the logic by which Eric had decided to trust Jixyl and Azleev. He basically just thought they were totally sound. They were his type of dudes.

And because he now trusted them he felt that he could no longer postpone telling Jixyl about his unfaithful girlfriend any longer.

He realised, however, that telling Jixyl his girlfriend was a cheat would more than likely put him in a bad mood and Eric had no desire to enrage Jixyl unnecessarily. He therefore deemed it appropriate to broach the subject tactfully and break the news to Jixyl in the most sympathetic way possible.

He decided that liberally furnishing compliments upon Jixyl and Azleev was a good way to start. "I just wanna say, right, that's yous are both totally sound," Eric flattered. He directed his attention to Azleev. "And, like, I'm sorry for kicking you when we first met."

"No worries," Azleev shrugged.

"And I'm sorry for thinking yous were gonna kill all mankind when I saw that telly programme with the dude who had been abducted," Eric continued.

"Don't worry about it," Azleev replied. "It was a perfectly natural reaction seeing as how you didn't really know us that well."

"Aye, no worries," Jixyl responded. "People are always assuming that I'm a genocidal maniac when they first meet uz. It's an easy mistake to make."

"Aye but I'm sorry anyway," Eric apologised. "But anyway, now that I know yous I've realised that yous are totally sound and all that. And I, like, just wanna say cheers for helping uz try to come up with a way to stop the Femlings from killing all humans."

"And all carrots," Jixyl added.

"Aye, and all carrots," Eric acknowledged. "Although I have to admit, the majority of my gratitude is based on your attempts to save humans and only a very small part of my gratitude is for your attempts to save the carrots."

"Well thanks for your gratitude," Azleev smiled.

"Aye cheers, but we're not _just_ doing it out of kindness," Jixyl pointed out. "Obviously that's the _main_ reason... like, to save all humans and hopefully carrots as well is the main reason we're helping you, but we're also doing it cos the Femlings are total snides, like. There's potential self-interest involved as well. We can't just let them go round the universe killing anyone whose quality of life doesn't meet with their unfeasibly high standards."

"Ar, aye," Eric agreed. "I'm the same. I'm mainly bothered about saving mankind, but I'm also slightly doing this to spite the Femlings. Cos like you say, they're total snides, like."

Eric suddenly realised that he had become distracted somewhat from his intended goal of breaking the bad news to Jixyl about his unfaithful girlfriend.

"Aye, well anyway... yous have been excellent, like," Eric repeated. "And I totally appreciate it."

"No worries," Jixyl replied.

Eric decided that this was the time to get the subject of the conversation back on track. "But, er... I've just remembered I had to, er... tell you something which you might probably think is a little bit bad news," Eric stuttered.

"Bad news?" Jixyl inquired. "Like what?"

At this point the first two contestants emerged into the mud wrestling pool to be introduced by the host for the night.

"Ar, well... actually it's not that important really," Eric suddenly reconsidered. The scantiness of the two contestants' bikinis was possibly a key factor in Eric deciding that discussing Jixyl's unfaithful girlfriend wasn't as urgent as he had previously considered. "I can tell you later if you want."

"Nar, howay. What is it?" Jixyl persisted.

Eric's attention, however, was firmly focussed on the forthcoming wrestling. "Before we get things started," the host announced, "these girls are gonna get really dirty tonight, so we're gonna need a couple of towel boys to rub these girls down and clean them up after each round. Do we have any volunteers?"

Eric thrust his arm up.

Jixyl nudged his arm. "What were you saying about bad news?" he asked.

"Huh?" Eric grunted.

"You, sir. You look like a suitable candidate," the host announced, pointing at a member of the audience at the opposite side of the wrestling pool to Eric.

Eric thrust his arm even higher.

"Eric, man. What were you saying about bad news?" Jixyl urged.

"Ar... just that I've noticed that dude over there ordered a chicken platter as well and he didn't get any chips with it," Eric lied. Jixyl looked slightly bamboozled by Eric's rather strange opinion of what constituted bad news. "Gutter, eh? I could just fancy some chips."

"And you, sir," the host announced, this time pointing at Eric.

"Yes! Get in!" Eric exclaimed.

"I think he was pointing at me, like," Jixyl protested.

"Well it's probably best that you don't get up in case anyone notices your fake extra finger attachments," Eric argued, although the true motivation for his comment was probably more hormone related, even though his comment nevertheless made good sense.

"Yeah, Eric's right," Azleev agreed.

Eric made his way towards the host who then assigned him to one of the contestants whose name was Annabel. The host then explained the rules to the audience.

"Each wrestling match consists of three rounds and the girls need two points for a victory. You get one point for a pin down or one point if you manage to pop your opponent's boobs out of her bikini. However, it's up to the crowd to shout out and tell me whenever a boob pops out, so make sure you pay close attention to the girls' boobs." The expressions on the faces of most men in the audience seemed to indicate that they considered this to be a fair request.

Eric, however, had a theory regarding the audience's likelihood to go along with this instruction. "If I was you, like, I wouldn't try to get the other lass's baps out, like," he advised. "Cos if a bap pops out no dudes are gonna say anything. That'd just mean the judge would award you a point and pause the wrestling, and that'd give her a chance to put her baps back in again. Trust uz, every dude'll just keep quiet if a bap pops out so that they can all have a good stare. Trust uz, go for the pin down. That's the way to win."

"I'm not really that serious about it," Annabel smiled. "It's just a bit of a laugh."

"Ar, yeah," Eric agreed. "But I'm just saying... like, that would be my strategy if I was competing." This was a blatant lie, however. If Eric had been wrestling the other extremely fit lass (whose name was Crystal) his strategy would most definitely not have been to avoid getting her baps out.

"I'll just see what happens," Annabel shrugged.

"Aye, but you might as well try and win, like," Eric insisted. "And the pin down's definitely the best strategy." Even in moments of perviness Eric couldn't contain his competitive spirit.

Meanwhile, Jixyl and Azleev were discussing Eric. "He doesn't seem quite as pervy as I was expecting," Jixyl mused. "You'd expect him to be having the odd sly glance at her baps, but he seems to actually be talking to her face."

"Maybe he respects women as individuals and can see beyond Annabel's physical attractiveness to the inner beauty beneath," Azleev proposed. A few seconds later both he and Jixyl burst out into laughter.

"Haaarrrrr," Jixyl chuckled, as he let out a post-laughter sigh. "Seriously, though. It could be a worry if he's not the perv we thought he was."

"Don't worry," Azleev reassured. "I'm sure it's just an act. He'll just be acting all interested in Annabel's conversation to try to come across as sincere and genuine. It's a perfectly natural reaction for any sly, devious perv that's got half a brain. That's all it'll be."

"Aye, you're probably right," Jixyl agreed.

At that moment the host requested the two wrestlers to step towards the middle of the wrestling pool. As Annabel turned her back on Eric and stepped into the pool, Eric took the most of the opportunity to examine Annabel's figure, paying particular attention to her skimpily covered bum.

"What did I tell you?" Azleev gloated. "He's not sincere. He's just subtle and sly and devious."

Jixyl smirked. "Panic over," he replied.

Annabel and Crystal began grappling and before long Crystal had managed to remove Annabel's baps from her bikini. She relaxed expecting a point to be awarded, but as Eric had predicted no-one in the crowd made any attempt to inform the judge of this bap slippage. Instead they all just had a good old stare.

Annabel took advantage of Crystal's complacency and in the space of a couple of seconds had tripped her over onto her back then pinned her down. The host rang the bell and awarded a point to Annabel, who then proceeded to rehouse her baps in her bikini.

Crystal didn't seem too happy about this apparent injustice and raised her complaint with the host.

"Just to reiterate," the host explained, addressing the crowd. "You guys have to shout out and tell me whenever a boob pops out." He then addressed Crystal. "I can't be held responsible if the crowd don't spot a stray boob." Crystal looked quite miffed by this explanation and stormed back to her corner. "And just to clarify gentlemen," the host announced, "in the event of a tie it's down to you guys to decide the winner. Whichever girl gets the biggest cheer is the winner."

"Class!" Eric exclaimed. "If it's a draw that means you'll definitely get the biggest cheer cos you've had your baps out. All you need to do now is play defensive for the next two rounds and the fight's yours."

"I've got mud in my eye," Annabel remarked.

"Ar, aye. Soz," Eric replied, suddenly remembering that his official duty was that of towel boy and not ring-side coach. He delicately wiped the mud out of Annabel's eye. "Is that better?" he asked.

Annabel grasped the towel and gave her eye a more sturdy rub. "Ow. It's really stinging," she announced, blinking.

Eric noticed that his opposite towel boy was rubbing the thick of the mud off Crystal. "Do you want anywhere else rubbed?" Eric generously offered.

"Go on then," Annabel replied, spreading her arms. Sadly for Eric though, she also shuffled around on her toes so that she was now facing away from him. Eric was happy to rub her back but he would rather have rubbed her baps.

The host called for the girls to get ready for round two. "Remember, go defensive," Eric advised.

Annabel giggled and nodded. She found Eric's desire to see her win rather funny, but also quite flattering.

Round two, however, followed a much different pattern to round one. Crystal, it turned out, shared Eric's competitive nature and was still feeling quite annoyed about being cheated out of what she felt was a perfectly legitimate point. Technically speaking, the judge had followed the letter of the law in his interpretation of the rules, but Crystal wasn't bothered about the letter of the law. Her only concern at this moment in time was righting the injustice that had been perpetrated in the first round.

So with this in mind, as soon as the bell rang she grabbed Annabel aggressively and flung her head first out of the pool. Annabel landed face first on the hard tiled floor surrounding the wrestling pool, then got up to her knees and rubbed her forehead, swaying as she did so.

Eric dashed over with a towel and asked Annabel if she was okay.

"Ow, my head," she replied.

Eric turned to Crystal. "Hey, man! What're you doing?! It's just meant to be a bit of fun, man," he exclaimed, appearing to sharply change his tune. In his defence though, whilst he had always been a naturally competitive person, he nevertheless generally restrained his competitiveness to within the rules of the game and the boundaries of common sense. In his opinion Crystal had definitely crossed both of these lines.

The host agreed with Eric and instructed Crystal to calm things down or he would have to award a point against her. As it turned out though, Annabel had had enough of wrestling for one day and decided to retire. Eric had a brief argument with the host that Crystal had won by cheating and that you can't have a cheat benefiting from cheating, so technically she should be disqualified. The host though, seemed to think that the idea behind bikini mud wrestling was that it was all about a load of guys having a good perv and that Eric was missing the point. Not surprisingly, this left Eric feeling quite annoyed at the host's lackadaisical approach to fairness and justice.

"Hey, he's a proper idiot, him, like," he exclaimed, as he walked Annabel back to the changing rooms.

"Thanks anyway," Annabel replied.

"What's the point of having a competition if you're just gonna let people cheat?" Eric asked, rhetorically. "It's completely stupid."

"I don't mind," Annabel replied, smiling. "It was just a bit of fun in any case."

"Aye, but that's not the point," Eric insisted. "Even if it's a friendly football match the ref still applies the rules. You wouldn't just let people off with a foul just cos it's a friendly. Otherwise, what's the point? It'd be completely pointless."

By now they had arrived at the changing rooms. "Anyway, I'm going to get changed now," Annabel remarked.

"Ar, right, aye," Eric acknowledged. "Do you fancy going for something to eat after you've got changed, though? My treat. I've had a bit of luck on the pokies so I'm canny flush at the minute, like." Eric wasn't usually the sort to offer free food but he somehow felt a sense of responsibility to right the injustice that Annabel had suffered and he figured that treating her to a meal was as good a way as any to do this. Or perhaps his generosity may also have been motivated by the fact that Annabel was totally fit.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," Annabel agreed.

While Annabel was getting changed Eric suddenly realised that he wasn't one hundred percent certain that he and Rachel had split up. Not that they were ever boyfriend and girlfriend, but they'd seen each other a few times and it was just common decency when you've seen a lass a few times not to go out with any other lasses.

So he sent Rachel the following text message:

' _Alright, I've just met this really fit lass and I was gonna go for a meal with her but I just thought I'd better check with you first that we've definitely split up. Like, the other day when you were in the huff with uz when I was going on about the aliens, that definitely meant you'd bombed uz out, didn't it? Just to clarify? Just cos I'm not a two-timer or nothing so I'm just making sure I'm definitely single. Cheers._

If you could let uz know quite quickly it'd be appreciated cos she's getting changed at the moment and she'll be ready in a few minutes.

Cheers.'

Rachel texted back the following reply:

' _Dickhead.'_

Eric smiled as he read her message. 'Ar, class! I think that means I'm definitely single,' he thought to himself, just as Annabel emerged from the changing rooms.

"I'll just have to let my mates know first," he remarked. "I'll just be two seconds."

"Okay," Annabel nodded.

So Eric quickly dashed back to Jixyl and Azleev to let them know of the latest developments.

"Hey, guess what? Totally fluky, like! That lass wants to go for a meal with uz," he beamed. "So d'you mind hanging about for a bit and then just meeting up again in a couple of hours?"

"Well what about your chicken platter?" Azleev pointed out. He nodded at Eric's meal, which the waitress had brought to their table a few minutes ago.

"Well, really I'm not that fussed about the chicken platter," Eric admitted. "I just wanted to perv on the bikini mud wrestling."

Jixyl didn't seem quite as happy for Eric as he had expected. "We'll hang on for a couple of hours but if it's any longer than that then we'll have to head off cos I've got to be back on Fyra for a lecture tomorrow, so make sure it's no longer than a couple of hours," he ordered.

"Ar," Eric faltered, looking slightly disappointed. "You see, when I said a couple of hours, what I was secretly meaning was that I'd say a couple of hours but then hopefully by then me and Annabel would be getting on really well and I'd get invited back to her room and then I'd just meet yous in the morning."

"Well sorry, but I've got a lecture tomorrow so that's not possible," Jixyl repeated.

"Nar but, like, she's really fit," Eric explained, as if Jixyl hadn't quite grasped the situation.

"Aye, I know," Jixyl acknowledged. "I saw her wrestling."

"So, like, d'you not reckon hang on 'til the morning then?" Eric suggested once again.

"No, I've already explained," Jixyl replied. "I can't."

"But she's really fit, man," Eric re-repeated.

"Well yeah, but what can I do?" Jixyl shrugged. "Do you want uz to miss my lecture, like?"

"Well yeah... obviously," Eric shrugged back, failing to realise why Jixyl thought this was such a big deal. "She's really fit, man."

"I can't miss my lecture, man," Jixyl maintained. "I've got important exams coming up in a few weeks."

"Aye, but she's really fit, man," Eric remarked, seemingly unaware that he had already pointed this out on numerous occasions already.

"Here, man! I can't miss my lecture!" Jixyl snapped, finally losing his patience.

"Hey, I don't believe you, like!" Eric snapped back. "You're being a total snide!"

"Can you not make your own way back home?" Azleev suggested, trying to be helpful.

"From Las Vegas? Nar, course not. I haven't got my passport," Eric pointed out.

"Well you should have brought it with you, then," Jixyl proclaimed.

"Well I would have done if I'd realised you were going to be a total snide, like," Eric replied, "but I foolishly thought you were canny sound."

"Well sorry but that's just the way it is," Jixyl retorted.

"You can still go for a meal with her," Azleev consoled.

"Well yeah, but what's the point of that?" Eric shrugged. "I don't know how it works on your planet but on Earth we don't look at a lass and think, 'Mmm, she's nice. I'd like to go for a romantic meal with her.' We look at a lass and think, 'Mmm, she's fit. I'd like to get down to some hot jiggy style lovin' with her,' but if I say that to her face she'll probably think I'm totally shallow and one-dimensional so I'll get no action, so rather than be honest with her I'll pretend I want to go for a romantic meal with her in the hope of greater things to follow."

"Well yeah, that's how it works on Fyra as well," Jixyl acknowledged, "but what can I do? I've got a lecture."

"Hey, I can't believe you, like!" Eric snapped, and he stormed off in the direction of Annabel. After taking a few steps he turned back and remarked, "She's really fit, man!" then carried on walking towards Annabel, shaking his head as he did.

Annabel could tell by Eric's face that he was upset about something, "What's up?" she asked.

"My total idiot mates are being total idiots," Eric explained. "We're meant to be going to L.A. tomorrow morning but they've decided to head off now so I'm soz but we can't go for a meal cos they've got the car so I have to go with them." Strictly speaking, I suppose you could argue that this was a flawed and inaccurate excuse, on the basis that it was totally made up, but Eric figured it was nicer to let Annabel think he did actually want to have a meal with her but unfortunately circumstances had conspired against him, rather than come clean and admit that he just wanted to sleep with her and now that that wasn't an option he had no interest in spending his money on her any more.

"Ar, well I'm going to L.A. tomorrow as well," Annabel revealed, "so I could drop you off if you want."

"Where would I stay tonight, though?" Eric queried.

"You could sleep at my place," Annabel suggested.

"Ar, right! Excellent!" Eric exclaimed, momentarily forgetting that his story about going to L.A. was a total lie, and that his actual problem was that he was passportless.

"So where do you want to go for something to eat?" Annabel asked.

Eric then suddenly felt gutted as he remembered that his real problem was a lack of a passport, not a lift to L.A. "Em... well, I'm not bothered. You can just decide and I'll just go and tell my mates that I'll just meet them tomorrow while you're deciding," he remarked.

So Eric dashed quickly back to Jixyl and Azleev. "Here, we need to leave quickly," he ordered.

"Why, like?" Jixyl inquired.

"Cos I told her I had to leave now cos yous are going to L.A., so she's offered to let uz sleep at hers tonight and then give uz a lift to L.A. tomorrow," Eric revealed.

"She's up for spending the night with you?" Azleev asked.

"Well there's been no categoric agreement of any definite action or anything," Eric clarified, "but it's a step in the right direction."

"Nice one!" Jixyl congratulated.

"Aye, well it would be... if my story about L.A. was actually true and you weren't being a snide!" Eric pointed out, feeling annoyed that Jixyl had the cheek to congratulate him on a potential situation which wasn't going to happen purely because of Jixyl's stubbornness.

"Well, here! Don't take it out on me!" Jixyl snapped back. "You shouldn't have told her a load of patter about going to L.A."

"Well I could hardly say, 'Ar, nar, actually I'm not really travelling round America. I actually got here on a spaceship cos my two mates are actually aliens and they've got to be back on their planet by tomorrow so that's why I really have to leave now, cos one of them's a snide,' cos if I told her that it would totally spoil my chances with her cos she'd think I was mental."

"Well running away is hardly likely to help your chances with her either, like," Jixyl pointed out.

"Aye, true, I suppose," Eric realised. "I suppose I should really go back and tell her the truth."

"You can't tell anyone about us," Azleev instructed, looking slightly concerned. "Earth's a non-contact planet. We could get into trouble."

"Don't worry. She won't believe uz," Eric replied. "She'll just think I'm mental."

"Well is that not a _bad_ thing?" Jixyl questioned.

"Well yeah, but at least then she won't think I've bombed her out," Eric remarked. "Trust uz... Earth lasses totally hate getting bombed out, like. She'll definitely prefer to think I'm just a mental freak rather than feel rejected. Earth lasses hate rejection more than they hate meeting mental freaks."

"But will she not just think you're _pretending_ to be a mental freak and that actually you're really just a coward who's too scared to tell her the truth and admit that you're actually just bombing her out?" Jixyl proposed.

"Ar, aye. Man. She might," Eric admitted.

"Look, you can't tell her we're aliens," Azleev reaffirmed.

"I think I'd better go back anyway," Eric decided, "just to avoid getting bad karma."

So Eric walked back across to the changing room to speak to Annabel again.

"You seemed to be a while," she observed. "I thought you might have changed your mind."

"Ar... er, nar," Eric muttered. "I was just getting my mates off the scene." He then paused. "Look, you're gonna think I'm mental when I say this but I swear it's the truth... and I'm only telling you cos you seem really nice so you deserve to know the truth... but anyway..." Eric stared at Annabel's face and deliberated on how exactly to bring up the subject of aliens. "Well, you see..." Annabel stared at Eric expectantly. "Well, basically..." Eric took a deep breath and composed himself to tell Annabel the truth. "Well... like, when I asked you if you fancied going for a meal I basically just wanted to have sex with you." As you may have noticed, at the last minute Eric decided that discussing aliens was a bad idea.

"Why did you swear it's the truth?" Annabel inquired. "Did you not think I would believe you?"

Eric realised that the start of his confession didn't fit too well with the end of the confession. "No, it's just..." He racked his brains for an explanation for this apparent inconsistency in his patter.

"Cos I mean it's hardly unusual for a guy to want to have sex with me," Annabel declared. This may have sounded rather arrogant but she wasn't an arrogant person. She was merely being truthful. If anything it was simply an acknowledgement of the psychology of men, rather than a boast regarding her own attractiveness.

"Ar, yeah. I know..."

"And why would I think you were mental for wanting to have sex with me?" Annabel quizzed, looking quite confused.

"Em..." Eric realised that this aspect of his inconsistent patter could possibly be construed as being quite cheeky.

"Are you saying I'm not attractive?" Annabel asked.

"Nar, course not. I just meant... Like..." Eric racked his brains frantically for an explanation. "Well... just, like... em, you know, like... you obviously won't think I'm mental for _wanting_ to have sex with you. I just meant you probably might think I'm mental for _admitting_ it." Eric was fairly pleased with this hastily concocted explanation. "Just cos, like, most dudes act all sincere and deep and all that when really we're just shallow and full of patter. But I just suddenly thought what's the point of lying so I thought I might as well be honest."

"Well I appreciate your honesty," Annabel acknowledged. "So anyway, do you want to skip the meal?"

Eric's brain ticked over for a moment until he realised what Annabel was suggesting. "Ar, class!" he exclaimed, not even bothering to act cool about this rather appealing amendment to the schedule.

"And seeing as how we're being all honest I need to come clean as well. I'm not really going to L.A. tomorrow," Annabel confessed.

"So how were you gonna drop uz off, then?" Eric asked.

"I wasn't," Annabel admitted, sharing Eric's sudden alleged desire for honesty.

"Eh! So you were just gonna let uz get stuck here in Vegas!?" Eric shrieked, feeling rather put out. "Eh! That was canny snidey, like!"

"Well, no. The Greyhound bus is only sixty dollars," Annabel shrugged.

Eric was quite upset by Annabel's deceit, even though he himself wasn't being entirely honest with her. Yes, it was true that he wanted to have sex with her, but he still hadn't told her about his alien companions.

"Eh!" Eric repeated. "What if the Greyhound was sold out?"

Annabel considered this scenario. "I didn't really think about that," she confessed. "But anyway, would it really be such a hardship to spend an extra day with me?"

Eric smiled. "Well... no."

"Anyway, are we going to mine or yours?" she asked.

"Em... yours is probably best, like," Eric replied. "But can we be less than two hours, though? Just cos that way I can still get a lift with my mates. Just in case the Greyhound is fully booked."

"I thought you just said it wouldn't be a hardship to spend an extra day with me," Annabel queried.

"Well it's not... but it would mean another sixty dollars and I'm on a bit of a tight budget," Eric bluffed, thinking on his feet.

"I thought you said you'd had a bit of good luck on the pokies and were feeling quite flush," Annabel recalled, spotting yet another flaw in Eric's quickly concocted story.

"Em..." Eric stuttered, as he struggled to think of yet another lie to dig himself out of the hole he was rapidly digging himself into.

Meanwhile, Jixyl and Azleev were discussing the current developments.

"We could have left in the morning and still made it back in time for your lecture, you know," Azleev remarked.

"Yeah, I know," Jixyl acknowledged, "but I just thought it was better to keep Eric needy and desperate for when he starts his mission. Cos, like, if he gets loads of action while he's still on Earth then he might not be quite so eager once he gets to Fem."

"Yeah, fair point, I suppose," Azleev agreed.

"Either way though, I think we've definitely chosen the right man for the job," Jixyl professed.

" _You've_ chosen," Azleev corrected. "I was in favour of using that Doug Simonson dude."

"You have to admit, though," Jixyl argued, "from what we've seen of Eric so far he seems a very suitable candidate."

"Ar yeah, I'll admit I reckon he'll do the job for us, like," Azleev accepted.

Just at that moment Eric returned looking quite deflated.

"What's up?" Jixyl inquired.

"Ar, man! I'm a total chump," Eric muttered.

"What makes you say that?" Azleev asked.

"Ar, rubbish," Eric mumbled to himself.

"What makes you think you're a chump?" Azleev pressed.

"Cos I always manage to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory," Eric remarked.

"What's that mean?" Jixyl inquired.

"Well, like, just that Annabel was up for getting it on with uz straight away so, like, your snidiness wouldn't have been a problem," Eric explained, "but then she started reckoning that I was a lying idiot so then she wasn't up for it any more. Like, admittedly, in her defence I have to admit that she's right. Like, I _was_ a lying idiot. But still, though." Eric shrugged his shoulders.

"Ar well. Unlucky," Jixyl consoled.

"But I tell you the annoying thing..." Eric continued. "She's full of patter as well! She offered to drop uz off in L.A. tomorrow but she's not even going to L.A.! Total double standards, eh?"

"Aye, what a hypocrite," Jixyl agreed.

"I know," Eric affirmed. "Like, admittedly I told about six lies compared to her one and I just kept digging myself in deeper. But still, though. Like, she's still in no position to judge me, like. Like, a judge couldn't go out burgling one night and then the next day sentence a burglar for doing six burglaries and say, 'Ar, but I only went out burgling once whereas you've been burgling six times so you're worse than me, like.' Cos clearly if he's gone out burgling then how can he judge someone else for burgling, just cos they've done it more. She's a pure hypocrite, man."

"Yeah, it's a shame," Azleev commented.

"Anyway, your chicken platter's still here if you still want it," Jixyl remarked, nodding at Eric's meal.

"I'm not that hungry now," Eric shrugged, dejectedly. "I'll just nip to the toilet and then we might as well go."

As soon as Eric was out of earshot Azleev quickly began discussing the recent developments. "I didn't like that 'I always manage to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory' comment, like," he remarked. "That doesn't sound too promising."

"Don't worry. It'll turn out okay," Jixyl assured. "I've got a good vibe about Eric."

"I prefer to deal in logic and common sense rather than vibes," Azleev reasoned.

"Look, we've got this far," Jixyl commented, "and he trusts us, so I say we stick with Eric." Jixyl looked at Azleev for a moment. He was still unconvinced. "Look, trust uz. That Doug Simonson dude would ask too many questions. We need someone who's a bit of a chump and Eric fits the bill perfectly. Fair enough, you're putting up the cash so you get the final say, but I still say we stick with Eric."

Azleev pondered on Jixyl's words for a moment. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," he agreed. "I'm just being nervous. That's all."

"Don't worry. Eric messing things up with Annabel was just a one-off failure," Jixyl proclaimed. "He's still the right man for the job. I'm sure of it."

But secretly, a part of Jixyl was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Azleev.

Chapter Fourteen – Self-Defence Isn't Snidey

Since returning home from Las Vegas, Eric's dejectedness had shifted its focus away from getting bombed out by Annabel and more towards the fact that the world was going to get destroyed by the snidey Femlings. Eric decided that, all things considered, the impending end of the world was possibly more of a downer than Annabel's change of heart. And the fact that Jixyl and Azleev didn't seem overly enthusiastic about the merits or achievability of his 'just create loads of cures for all the Femling diseases' plan only served to increase his dejectedness.

A few days later, however, he received a text from Azleev which filled him with newfound optimism.

' _We've got a better plan,'_ the text read. _'On our way back to Earth to explain. E.T.A. - 2.56293847 hours.'_

The text filled Eric with excitement and curiosity. _'What's the new plan, then?'_ he texted back.

' _Better that we explain in person,'_ Azleev texted back, _'but we need your help, so see you on the beach in 2.52548735 hours.'_ Azleev was always very precise.

Eric actually lived a twenty minute journey away from Whitley Bay Beach so he was tempted to text back and arrange a closer meeting point, but then again Monty lived right next to Whitley Bay Beach and Eric was buzzing with excitement and needed to discuss this new development with someone, so he stopped off at Monty's.

Monty could see straight away that Eric was excited about something. "What're you looking so pleased about?" he asked.

"They've come up with a new plan!" Eric revealed. "Jixyl and Azleev!"

"Aye, I sort of figured that's who you were on about," Monty replied. "What is it, then?"

"Ar, I dunno yet, like," Eric explained. "They haven't told uz yet, but I'm meeting them down the beach in a couple of hours so they can explain it to uz ... cos they reckon they need my help."

"They need your help? Ar, looks like Earth's doomed then," Monty joked, sarcastically. Actually, come to think of it he probably wasn't joking. It was probably a true comment masquerading behind a jokey tone of voice.

"Nar, like," Eric refuted. "I'm canny responsible when I want to be. I know I act like a daft chump most of the time but secretly I'm, like, totally dependable and all that. If I was choosing someone to save the Earth I would probably pick me as well."

"Hmm..." Monty smirked, not looking totally convinced. "So anyway, what d'you reckon the plan will be, then?"

"Mebbees they've invented a big Death Star," Eric suggested, "to blow up the Femlings' planet."

"Why would they need your help for that?" Monty inquired.

"Maybe they need to consult me to think of a really cool name for it," Eric suggested.

"Yeah, it's good to see you taking the future of the human race so seriously," Monty replied. "I don't know how I ever doubted that you were the right man for the job."

The two friends then spent the next couple of hours theorising on what the plan could be and how it could incorporate Eric's help, without really hitting on an idea that seemed totally plausible. Finally, the time arrived for Eric to head down to the beach to meet Jixyl and Azleev.

When he got there he had to wander up and down the beach several times before Jixyl and Azleev finally showed up, ten minutes late.

"Where've you been?" Eric quizzed, looking at his watch to highlight their late arrival.

"Ar, the traffic was a nightmare," Jixyl joked.

"In space?" Eric quizzed, not picking up on the joke. "I thought it was just loads of empty space. Hence the name ... space."

"He was joking," Azleev clarified. "We just nipped to the shop to stock up on Toffee Crisps, cos you can't get them on Fyra."

Eric nodded approvingly. "Aye, they're a very under-rated chocolate bar, Toffee Crisps, like," he acknowledged, accepting this as a legitimate reason to postpone their Earth-saving discussions.

"Anyway, d'you wanna hear our plan?" Jixyl prompted, getting to the point.

"Aye, what is it, then?" Eric asked.

"Well all that stuff about sitting about waiting for the Femlings to come up with a disease just seemed like the wrong approach to me," Jixyl began. "The problem you see, was we were all looking at the situation from a defensive point of view... when the best strategy, as is most cases, is clearly to take the offensive point of view."

"I think you must have your G.O.T. set on American English," Eric interjected, "cos in England we would say 'attacking' not 'offensive'." Jixyl and Azleev looked at each other slightly bemused. "Although actually, thinking about it... aye, you might possibly use 'offensive' to go with 'defensive' in that context."

"Here, man! Do you want to analyse the grammatical intricacies of G.O.T. or do you want to concentrate on saving mankind!?" Jixyl inquired, rhetorically. "Just cos it's up to you, like, but I reckon saving mankind is slightly more important."

"Aye, soz," Eric apologised.

"Anyway, G.O.T. doesn't have an American version," Azleev explained, getting back to Eric's point. "It just works off the way your brain thinks, so I reckon you must have used the word 'offensive' at some point, or at least definitely used it in that context at some stage, cos G.O.T. wouldn't just make it up."

Jixyl turned to Azleev looking quite irate. "Here, man! I tell you what... I'll just go off and live on an island somewhere while yous two banter on about G.O.T., right? And then in a couple of months' time when you've finally finished wasting time, give uz a bell and I'll come back and we can finally get down to the matter at hand..." He turned to face Eric. "...namely saving your planet from extinction. Okay?"

"Yeah, sorry," Azleev apologised, feeling like a naughty school kid.

"Well that was him that time," Eric pointed out, defensively.

"I was just explaining..." Azleev started to protest.

"Look, man!" Jixyl interrupted. "Will yous both shut up!? It doesn't matter whose fault it was or how G.O.T. works. All that matters is saving the Earth. Right?"

"Aye, soz," Eric and Azleev replied in unison.

"So what's the plan, then?" Eric finally inquired.

"Well ... like I was saying," Jixyl replied, "sometimes attack is the best form of defence."

"Ar, aye. Definitely," Eric agreed. "Just look at when Keegan was manager of Newcastle." He noticed a confused look on Jixyl's face. "Sorry. I'll shut up. Carry on with what you were saying."

"So anyway," Jixyl resumed, "rather than sitting about twiddling our thumbs for a couple of years while we wait for the Femlings to create a disease, and then waiting for some people to get infected so that we can analyse the disease and then try to create a cure for it, surely a better plan would be to attack the Femlings _before_ they create the disease. Eliminate them before they eliminate you."

"So, like, build a big massive Death Star or something, like?" Eric suggested.

Once again Jixyl and Azleev's faces wore blank expressions. "What's a Death Star?" Azleev finally asked.

"It's, like, a big powerful laser beam weapon that can destroy an entire planet," Eric revealed. "It's basically the perfect weapon ... apart from if you shoot a laser missile into one of its exhaust shafts it explodes."

Jixyl and Azleev both raised their eyebrows. "And do you know how to build one, like?" Jixyl inquired.

"Ar, nar. It's not a real weapon," Eric explained. "It's just out of a movie called Star Wars."

Jixyl and Azleev's eyebrows lowered once again to their usual height. "Well d'you not reckon mebbees stick to real weapons rather than made-up weapons?" Jixyl suggested, sarcastically. "Just cos, like, made-up weapons aren't gonna be much use against the Femlings. Like, I dunno about you but I reckon we've mebbees got more chance if we use _real_ weapons."

"Ar, I know," Eric agreed, "but I just thought you might be able to make one ... what with yous being technologically advanced and all that. Like, you can travel across the galaxy and stuff, and you've got G.O.T. on your phones, so I just thought mebbees yous could create a Death Star as well."

"Aye, we've got G.O.T. on our phones but that's, like, not _quite_ the same as being able to destroy an entire planet with a single laser beam weapon," Jixyl pointed out.

"Well I dunno, man," Eric retorted, defensively. "I was just saying."

"Well nar, anyway, that's not the plan," Jixyl replied. "As good as it would be if we lived in a fantasy world, sadly we live in reality, so unfortunately a Death Star doesn't come into the plan."

"Our plan is more along the lines of the Femlings' plan," Azleev revealed.

Eric's mind ticked over. "You mean, like, create a disease?" he asked.

"Yep," Azleev nodded.

"To, like, kill the Femlings before they kill all humans and carrots and stuff?" Eric asked.

Azleev nodded again.

"Ar, excellent," Eric exclaimed. "Aye, sound, then. And d'you reckon yous can definitely come up with this disease before the Femlings come up with theirs, do you?"

"It's ready now," Jixyl revealed.

"Flip!" Eric exclaimed. Since watching the TV show with the alien 'revelations', his emotions had been on a roller coaster journey, and although you would generally struggle to find a more optimistic person than Eric, his mood over the last few days had been justifiably negative by his own usually high standards. Now though, he was finally seeing signs for optimism. "Right, then. So just use the disease then, eh ... and, like, problem solved?"

"Not quite," Azleev replied. "We still need to implant the disease into the Femling population."

"So how d'you do that, then?" Eric inquired.

"It's transmitted by saliva," Jixyl disclosed.

"So, like, someone has to go round spitting on all the Femlings, do they?" Eric questioned, not quite grasping the concept.

Jixyl chuckled at Eric's miscomprehension. "It's transmitted from saliva _to_ saliva," he clarified. "Not from saliva to skin."

"Ar, right." Eric's brain ticked over. "Ar ... right! You mean, like, snogging?"

"Yeah, through kissing," Jixyl confirmed.

"Ar, so you have to snog all the Femlings to kill them all?" Eric queried.

"We don't need to snog _all_ of them," Azleev explained. "Just a small sample of the population. Cos then the infected Femlings will snog other Femlings and so on, and it'll start a chain reaction until the vast majority of the planet is infected."

"We estimate that snogging twenty Femlings might be enough to get the wheels in motion," Jixyl declared, "but fifty would be better ... and a hundred would be an almost guarantee."

"...based on the average lifestyle of the average Femling," Azleev added.

"Obviously some are a bit more monogamous than others," Jixyl explained, "and some are a bit more free and easy than others, but based on the average Femling lifestyle those are the figures we predict."

"Right, so that sounds like a good plan," Eric endorsed. "So when are you gonna do it?"

"Unfortunately, there's one catch," Azleev cautioned. "The disease also kills Fyralings. The genetic part of ours and the Femlings' DNA which responds to the virus is almost identical."

"Gutter," Eric muttered. "So it's a bit like my Death Star plan, then. Okay in fantasy but flawed in reality."

Jixyl got to the crunch. "Humans however..."

Eric's brain ticked over once again. "The disease doesn't kill us?" he asked.

"Exactly!" Azleev confirmed. "The part of your genetic structure which bypasses your response to the usually intoxicating effects of diquintenol, also plays a key part in your brain's response, or lack thereof, to the effects of the virus ... effectively making you immune to it."

"Flip, that's canny lucky, like," Eric remarked. His brain then ticked over some more. Then a little bit more. Until finally he realised where the conversation was going.

His whole body jumped at the enormity of what he suspected Jixyl and Azleev were going to say next.

"Flip!" he exclaimed. "I think I know what you're gonna say next!"

"You remember we said the plan relied on your help?" Azleev recalled.

"Flip! I'm right!" Eric realised. "I'm the one who has to snog all the aliens, aren't I!?"

" _We_ can't do it," Jixyl shrugged. "The virus would kill us."

"Ar, fuck!" Eric exclaimed, as the details of the situation struck home. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He took a few moments to compose his thoughts. "Ar, fucking fuck! Ar, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Is there a problem?" Azleev inquired.

"It's just... I dunno," Eric shrugged. "It's just a mad concept to get my head around."

"You seemed okay with helping when we sent you that text earlier on," Jixyl reminded him.

"Aye, but that was when I thought the plan would involve, like, a Death Star or something," Eric replied. "I didn't realise I was gonna have to snog loads of alien lasses."

"So obliterating an entire planet with a Death Star is okay, but snogging a few fit Femling lasses is out of order?" Jixyl queried, with a confused look on his face. "How's that?"

"It just seems a bit snidey. That's all," Eric explained. "It's, like, a bit inconsiderate on their feelings."

"Well surely getting your entire planet blown up by a Death Star is inconsiderate on your feelings as well," Jixyl reasoned.

"Well, aye," Eric admitted, "but I mean, like, normally when you snog a lass she assumes it's because you find her physically attractive, but if she realised you were only snogging her as part of a plan to kill her entire species she'd probably feel a bit huffed."

"You don't have to tell them," Jixyl pointed out.

"Well actually, you _can't_ tell them," Azleev clarified, "cos that would sort of spoil the plan if you said, 'Ar, by the way, I only snogged you to infect you with a killer virus as part of a plan to kill your entire species.' It's meant to be a covert operation. That's sort of integral to the plan."

Eric still looked less than enthusiastic.

"Look, I'm pretty sure you'd have an excellent time while you were there," Jixyl pledged. "To help increase the planet-wide spread of the disease we were gonna suggest you base yourself at Ko Pagna. That's, like, the most popular holiday island beach resort for attractive young backpackers on the planet Fem. That way the lasses you snog will be from all over the planet, which means the disease will be spread over the whole planet as quickly as possible."

"Flip! This is mad, this, like," was all Eric could manage to say.

"So what do you reckon, then?" Azleev asked, pressing for an answer.

Eric let out a deep breath. "I dunno," he shrugged. "Like I said, it just seems a bit snidey, you know."

"Look, the Femlings want to kill every single living organism on your planet, for no other reason than they reckon your quality of life isn't high enough. _That's_ what I call snidey," Jixyl declared.

"...but you'd just be acting out of self-defence," Azleev added.

"Yeah, and self-defence isn't snidey," Jixyl argued. "Self-defence is totally commendable. If nice people just let snidey people kill them all the time then there'd be no nice people left. Just snidey people. So the nice people have to use self-defence to maintain the current amount of niceness in the galaxy." Azleev nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I see what you're saying," Eric conceded. "It's just that I didn't realise I'd have to play such a hands on role in things. If I just had to, like, push a button, or sign a form or something, then I'd be totally okay with killing an entire species out of self-defence. But I'm gonna have to talk to them and stuff. And, like, once you get to know them as a people that'll make it much harder to deal with being responsible for their death."

"I'm canny surprised that you're reacting like this, like," Jixyl remarked. "I got the impression you were selfish and carefree. I didn't realise you had a compassionate side."

"Ar, I _am_ selfish, like," Eric acknowledged, "but only when it doesn't hurt other people."

"You've got to stop seeing them as people and start looking at them as evil planetocidal maniacs," Jixyl suggested. "That way you'll find it easier to deal with."

"I tell you what it is," Eric remarked. "It's the fact that they're gonna look exactly like humans that makes it so hard. If they had green scaly skin and claws and stuff then I reckon it'd probably be much easier to do it."

"So you've got a problem with snogging totally fit lasses, but you'd be okay with snogging green scaly skinned creatures?" Jixyl questioned.

Eric chuckled at the realisation of what he had just said. "I take your point," he conceded. "What I meant though was that in an ideal world I'd have to snog totally fit lasses to kill green scaly skinned aliens."

"In an ideal world the Femlings wouldn't be planning to kill the human race," Azleev pointed out, "but they are. Cos it's not an ideal world. It's not an ideal galaxy. It's an overall pretty decent galaxy spoilt by evil gits like the Femlings."

"And _you've_ got a chance to make it an even more decent galaxy," Jixyl continued, "by getting rid of the Femlings."

"Or you can make it a worse galaxy by being an ostrich and sticking your head in the sand and pretending there isn't a problem and just letting the human race get destroyed," Azleev stated.

"Ar, hey," Eric remarked. He wasn't a big fan of responsibility. Jixyl had got it right when he suggested that Eric was care-free, but that didn't mean he was uncaring. "Is there no _other_ plan?" he asked hopefully. "Like, surely _all_ the Femlings can't be snides. Like, surely some of them must be nice. So is there no way we can just kill all the snidey ones and let the nice ones live?"

"That's the stupid thing," Azleev answered. "To talk to them some of them are the nicest people you'll ever meet. It's just that for whatever reason – maybe it's built into their DNA or something – they think that they're racially superior to all other species."

"Yeah, but surely it's just the government that wants to kill the human race," Eric purported. "We can't really blame normal people for what their government wants to do."

"Fem is a democratic planet," Azleev replied, "and at the last elections the current government won with a landslide ninety three percent of the vote."

"And the 'Quality Of Life' proposal was a key element of their manifesto," Jixyl added.

"Flip! Ninety three percent!" Eric repeated. "What a bunch of snides!"

"And as a matter of interest the leading opposition party, which got six percent of the vote, also supported most of the key elements of the 'Quality Of Life' proposal," Jixyl revealed.

"Flip! The total snides!" Eric exclaimed. "I'm running out of arguments to defend them!"

"And if you're worried about the remaining one percent..." Jixyl continued, pressing his point home. "What are they doing to stop it? Nothing. They're not campaigning. They're not writing angry protest letters to the government. They're just letting the government get on with it."

"And a spineless coward who just walks past and does nothing to help when he sees someone getting mugged is as guilty as the person doing the mugging," Azleev proposed.

Eric didn't quite agree with this last point but he let it go. "I'm just scared," he admitted.

"That's understandable," Azleev acknowledged. "But what scares you most... every living thing on Earth being killed or snogging a few fit lasses?"

"You see, you're talking about snogging a few fit lasses as if it was a regular everyday occurrence, like tying my shoelaces or something," Eric responded, "but it's not. I reckon I only score about once every four months on average, so if you're saying I ideally need to snog fifty lasses then that would take uz about..." Eric did some quick sums in his head. "...sixteen years and eight months. And the Femlings will have created their disease long before then."

"But you've got to remember that you'd be living on a beach resort and going out every night meeting far more lasses than you do in everyday life," Jixyl reasoned. "And lasses have got a much more 'up for it' attitude when they're in a holiday environment."

Eric had to admit that Jixyl had a point. He still wasn't convinced, though. "You see though, I don't even know a single thing about social etiquette and stuff on their planet," he remarked. "Like, how long do you have to talk to a lass before you can make a move? And, like, can you score through dancing? You see. I haven't got a clue."

"Don't worry. You wouldn't be dropped in straight at the deep end," Azleev reassured Eric. "It'd probably be best if you spent a few days on our planet first, getting trained up on everything you need to know."

"But to answer your question, all lasses are different," Jixyl commented, "but the general rules of pulling are pretty much the same on Fem as they are on Earth."

"So they're not into spanking like on your planet, then?" Eric inquired.

"Ar, yeah. They're into spanking," Jixyl revealed. "But other than that everything else is pretty much the same as it is on Earth."

"Ar, well, I mean I'm obviously tempted, like," Eric quickly reassessed, before adding just as quickly, "I mean, I'm tempted to save the world... not the spanking stuff, obviously... just saving the world. I mean I _would_ obviously get involved in a bit of spanking if it meant saving the world, like. But just to save the world ... not for anything else."

"Don't worry. You wouldn't have to do any spanking," Azleev reassured Eric. "Like we said, the disease is spread by saliva."

Eric's face dropped.

"But that's not to say that you _couldn't_ do a bit of spanking if you wanted to," Jixyl quickly added. "I mean, not that you'd want to ... obviously. But just for the purposes of maintaining your cover, it might be best if you did a _little_ bit of spanking ... just to fit in, you know."

"Yeah, I see what you mean," Eric nodded, thoughtfully. "It might look suspicious if I didn't do _any_ spanking."

"Exactly!" Jixyl agreed. "So does that mean you're gonna do it?"

"Hmm," Eric pondered. The last few minutes had given him a lot to take in and he therefore didn't want to rush into anything. "And they're definitely fit, these Femling lasses, are they?" he asked, before quickly adding, "Not that I'm bothered, like. Obviously saving the world is my only consideration. How fit the lasses are isn't an issue."

"Good," Azleev replied.

Eric was expecting Azleev to elaborate but no elaboration was forthcoming. A few moments of silence therefore passed before Eric broke the silence. "But are they, though?" he pressed.

"Are they what?" Jixyl replied, being deliberately awkward.

"Fit?" Eric clarified. Not that any clarification was required. Jixyl knew exactly what Eric was asking. He just enjoyed being awkward.

"I thought you said that wasn't an issue," Azleev mentioned.

"Ar, yeah. It's not," Eric answered, before asking once again a few moments later, "but are they, though?"

"I thought you said saving the world was your only consideration," Azleev recalled.

"Ar, yeah. It is," Eric lied. "But just out of curiosity."

"Don't worry. Femling lasses are totally fit," Jixyl finally assured Eric. "To use your cream analogy from the other day... the cream of Earth is a match for the cream of Fem... but on Ko Pagna where you'll be based you'll find there's a lot more cream."

"Well, I mean I obviously realise where my responsibilities lie, like," Eric quickly concluded, his voice once again suddenly full of enthusiasm.

"So does that mean you're gonna do it, then?" Jixyl asked.

"Well, I mean... it's, like, still a lot to get my head round, you know," Eric shrugged. He thought for a moment. "Like, do I need to decide right now, do I? Like, can I not have some time to think about it first?"

"Look, we need to get started as soon as possible," Jixyl pressed. "The Femlings aren't gonna hang around so neither can we."

"I tell you what," Azleev proposed. "How about you sleep on it? We can do some sight-seeing tonight and then we'll come back tomorrow morning to see how you feel about it then."

"Aye, I suppose," Eric agreed.

"But we can't hang about for long," Jixyl warned. "And it's a canny long trek back to Fyra so we can't keep coming back to Earth either. Once we leave, that's it. You have to be committed to the plan."

"Ar, yeah. I understand," Eric acknowledged.

"Have a think about it tonight," Azleev advised. "But I think you know what you have to do."

Azleev was right. Eric knew what he had to do.

He had to talk it over with his mates.

Chapter Fifteen – Living The Dream

Monty noticed straight away that Eric's face wasn't as excited and as optimistic as it had been before. Now Eric looked slightly worried. Even a little bit scared.

"What's up?" Monty asked. "Is the plan no good, is it?"

"Or is it dangerous, like, is it?" Garth inquired. He had come round to Monty's once he had heard about the new developments.

"Nar, it's not dangerous," Eric answered. "I'm just not sure whether I want to go through with it or not."

"What's the plan, like?" Monty quizzed.

"I have to go and live on a sunny beach resort on the planet Fem for a few months and go out every night and snog loads of fit lasses," Eric revealed.

Monty and Garth chuckled. "Ar, of course! It seems so obvious now!" Monty joked, sarcastically. "I don't know why we didn't think of that earlier!"

"Nar, seriously. What's the plan?" Garth pressed.

"Seriously! That's the plan!" Eric insisted.

"And how's that gonna save the Earth?" Monty inquired.

"Ar ... I forgot to mention that Jixyl and Azleev have come up with this disease which kills Femlings, but humans are immune to it. And it's transmitted by saliva, so they're gonna give me the virus and then when I hopefully snog loads of lasses that's gonna implant it in the Femling population and hopefully set off a chain reaction of infection. And then hopefully they'll all die before they get a chance to kill us."

Monty and Garth looked at each other with wide eyes as they took in Eric's revelations. It took them a few moments to digest the information. It was Monty who eventually spoke first. "Eh! Fuck! So you're not joking? You're _actually_ being serious? You _do_ actually have to go and party it up in the sunshine and snog loads of fit lasses to save the Earth?"

"Yeah," Eric nodded.

"So can I just ask one question?" Monty responded.

"What?" Eric shrugged.

"Are you absolutely mental!?" Monty exclaimed.

"Nar, course not," Eric replied. "What d'you mean?"

"Usually when someone has to save the world it involves fighting a big, scary monster with big fangs and laser beams coming from its eyes. Or they have to fly through the dangerous depths of space in an ancient spaceship and take on a hundred alien spaceships ten times more powerful than theirs." Monty paused for effect. "But you ... you have to party it up for a few months in the sun snogging loads of fit lasses ... and you're not sure if you want to do it? You're mental! You are! You're completely mental!"

"Eric, it's like you've won the lottery but you're not sure if you want to claim your winnings," Garth added.

"I know but it just feels a bit snidey. That's all," Eric explained. "It's, like, I'm gonna be directly responsible for killing them all."

"Yeah, but they want to kill all us, don't they?" Monty pointed out. "So tough shit on them! You live by the sword, you die by the sword."

"Aye, but only ninety nine percent of them support this 'killing anyone with an inferior quality of life' lark," Eric revealed. "The other one percent are ambivalent."

"Eric, I know it sounds harsh," Garth countered, "but it's like Monty says... tough shit on the ambivalent one percent. Basically, I don't want to die so if that means you have to kill an alien species which the vast majority of are evil, then you have to do it."

"Aye, I suppose you're right," Eric sighed.

"And what you've got to remember," Monty added, "is that you'll be partying it up in the sunshine snogging loads of fit lasses! You'll be living the dream! Living's every man's fantasy!"

"Aye, I suppose that's one consolation," Eric admitted.

"Consolation?" Monty exclaimed, looking mystified. "Eh? How's that a consolation? That's the star prize!" Monty then proceeded to tell an ironic story to emphasise his point. "Ar, yeah. I forgot to tell yous... My boss called uz into his office the other day and offered uz a ten grand a year pay rise. But as a consolation he also offered uz twenty extra days holiday and a company car."

"Hey, you're just like Jixyl, you, like, Monty," Eric observed.

"Is he a dashingly good looking fellow as well, like, is he?" Monty smirked.

"Nar, he's a proper sarky nowt!" Eric replied. "Anyway though, I wouldn't have a company car if I was you, like. You get totally hit for tax."

"It was actually a made-up story," Monty clarified. "I was just being sarcastic."

"Aye, I know," Eric remarked. "I'm just saying though, I wouldn't have a company car. It totally eats up your tax allowance."

"I don't understand you, Eric," Monty mused, shaking his head. "You've just had some life-defining news and you're going on about company cars."

"Well you brought the subject up, like," Eric contended.

"Aye, as a sarcastic story to illustrate my point," Monty replied. "Look, getting back to my point, all I'm saying is that you don't seem to understand the meaning of the word 'consolation'. Consolation is, like, when you don't get a penalty but you get a corner instead. It's not when you have to go and live in paradise."

"Aye, you're right, I suppose," Eric conceded.

"So are you gonna do it, then, are you?" Monty asked.

"I suppose I've got to really, haven't I?" Eric shrugged.

"Yeah, it's such a chore," Monty joked.

Eric just laughed.

"So have you just got to snog them, then?" Garth asked. "Or do you have to have sex as well?"

"Nar, I just have to snog them," Eric clarified. "The virus is transmitted by saliva." As an afterthought he added, "but that's not to say that I _can't_ have sex with them. Well ... if it wasn't for my totally useless pulling skills, that is."

Garth's mind was full of questions. "And do they breathe oxygen on this other planet, do they?" he inquired.

"Ar ... er, nar. They breathe carbon monoxide," Eric joked. "So basically within two minutes of uz landing I'll be dead. That's the one flaw in the plan. But other than that it's a foolproof plan."

"Alright, I was only asking," Garth snapped, in response to Eric's irony.

"I'm not the only one that's a sarky nowt," Monty noted.

Normally Eric would have been inclined to continue with the sarcasm, but this night he had more important things on his mind. "Well anyway, they want uz to leave tomorrow morning," he revealed, "so seeing as how this is gonna be my last night on Earth for a few months, do yous fancy going out for a few beers for a sort of a leaving do?"

"Do you think that's wise?" Garth cautioned. "If you have to be up early in the morning to fly across the galaxy then you don't want to be having a hangover."

"Ar, I'm not saying we make it a wild night," Eric clarified. "Just a couple of quiet beers. That's all."

The three friends all agreed that an impromptu leaving do was a wise decision. They also agreed that it was an equally wise decision to make it a low key affair to ensure Eric felt fine in the morning for the start of his adventure.

Eight pints later Garth reminded Eric of this earlier agreed fact. "I thought you said it was a wise decision to make it a quiet night and just stick to a couple of beers."

"I did," Eric acknowledged. "And I stand by what I said. It _was_ a wise decision to just stick to a couple of beers. Luckily though, I'm not confined by the path of wisdom. I'm free to wander onto the path of stupidity and it's a freedom I like to take advantage of from time to time."

"And this is the dude we're relying on to save mankind," Monty remarked, shaking his head.

"Don't worry, I take my responsibilities very seriously," Eric insisted. "So... are you getting the beers in?"

"Do you think that's wise?" Monty cautioned.

"No, it's quite foolish," Eric replied, "but like I say, I'm free to occasionally frequent the path of stupidity."

"Occasionally?" Monty queried with eyebrows raised, but he eventually gave in to Eric's persistence and headed off to get the round in.

At that moment a group of about six lasses in sexy novelty costumes came and sat at the group of chairs to the left of Eric. Eric and Garth glanced at each other with smiley wide-eyed faces and gave each other subtle nods to indicate that they were particularly impressed by the fashion sense of the lasses.

Eric shuffled along closer to a lass dressed as a sexy bumble bee. "Are yous out on a hen night?" he asked.

"Yeah. How did you guess?" the bumble bee replied.

"Ar, just cos yous look, like, canny happy and all that ... and I know lasses are really into weddings and stuff, so I thought that must be why yous are so happy," Eric mumbled.

"Yeah, that's my mate who's getting married," the bumble bee indicated, nodding across the table at a sexily dressed angel. The skimpiness of her outfit suggested she wasn't quite as angelic as the subject of her dress sense professed.

"Congratulations!" Eric cheered, raising his pint.

"Thanks," the angel replied.

"We're out for my leaving do," Eric remarked, turning his attention once again to the bumble bee.

"Ar, are you?" the bumble bee replied. "Do you mean you're leaving Newcastle, like? Or have you just got a new job?"

"Well, sort of both," Eric replied. "I've got to go and live on an alien planet for a few months and snog loads of fit lasses, cos these other aliens who are on our side are gonna put a disease in uz first which is transmitted by saliva so that's why I have to snog all the fit lasses, so that I hopefully infect the aliens with this disease and kill them all."

Eric then realised that he had omitted a key fact from his story. "Ar, but I'm not just being a snide and killing them for the sake of it. The aliens are planning to kill everything on Earth, like even carrots, if I don't do anything about it, so that's why I'm trying to kill them. I'm not just being a snide. It's self-defence."

The bumble bee, with it has to be said – a quite concerned expression on her face – motioned for her mates to quickly drink up and move on to another pub.

Once they were gone Garth asked Eric what he had said to the bumble bee to prompt such a hasty exit.

"Ar, I just told her about uz having to go to the planet Fem and all that," Eric revealed.

"You told her about the aliens!?" Garth exclaimed, looking shocked. "Eric, man. I don't think it's wise to go round telling people. Especially not fit lasses dressed in sexy novelty outfits."

"It's alright, man," Eric shrugged, defensively. "She doesn't believe uz anyway. She just thinks I'm a mentalist."

"You _are_ a mentalist," Garth opined. "You're gonna have to seriously improve your chat-up lines if you want to have any success on your mission."

Eric couldn't deny that Garth had a point. If there was a Eurovision Chat-Up Line Contest then Eric's attempt would have been a prime contender for 'nil pwan'.

"Don't worry, man," he told Garth . "I only told her all that alien stuff cos I've had eight pints. I'm much more sensible when I'm sober. And they don't drink alcohol on the planet Fem. They get drunk off diquintenol, which has no effect on humans, so I'll be alright."

"They don't drink alcohol?" Garth repeated, slightly shocked. "Hey, that's a gutter for you, mate. I'd find it really hard to pull lasses if I was sober all the time."

"Flip! Aye, so will I!" Eric exclaimed, only now seeming to realise the difficulty of the task that lay ahead of him. "Ar, flip! I've got to snog at least twenty lasses, preferably fifty and ideally a hundred, in a few months ... and I've got to do it sober! Ar, flip! This is gonna be solid!"

"Don't worry. You'll be okay," Garth reassured him. "Most lasses I know think you're funny and lasses like funny blokes. And you're not fat. That's another thing in your favour."

"Ar, cheers, like. That's really built my confidence up, that, like," Eric joked. "In fact I think I might use that as my chat-up line... 'Hi, I'm Eric and I'm fat but I'm not funny.'" Eric quickly realised his mistake. "Nar, hang on. That's the wrong way round. 'Hi, I'm Eric and I'm not funny but I'm fat.'"

"You're funny and you're not fat," Garth corrected.

"Aye, that's what I meant," Eric responded.

At this point Monty returned from the bar with three pints. Eric quickly grabbed his pint.

"Better make this the last one, eh?" Monty suggested.

"It just seems such a shame though, to get to nine pints and then not get to double figures," Eric remarked. "Like, ten pints has got a much rounder ring to it."

"Hey anyway, have you heard Eric's bad news?" Garth commented to Monty. "They don't drink alcohol on the planet Fem."

"Oo, that's harsh, mate," Monty grimaced. "It's not the paradise I thought it was after all."

"It's alright. I'm not really into the booze that much anyway," Eric replied, as he downed a big gulp of his ninth pint.

"Aye, I'd noticed," Monty joked.

Eric never made it to ten pints though, cos a couple of gulps later he started spewing his guts up over the table in front of them. Monty and Garth were pretty drunk themselves, but their reflexes were nevertheless still sharp enough for them to quickly duck for cover from the back spray.

"Here, we'd better call it a night," Garth suggested, once Eric had finished bringing up the last few splatters.

"Nar, I feel alright now," Eric insisted.

"Yeah, but if a bouncer sees all that puke on the table we're gonna get thrown out anyway," Monty pointed out.

"Not to mention the fact that you have to be up early tomorrow to save the world," Garth added.

"Aye, I suppose... aye," Eric mumbled, and the three friends headed outside to look for a taxi.

After a ten minute wait they were on their way home, with the taxi driver quickly starting up some polite banter, obviously hoping for a tip.

"You had a good night, then?" he asked.

"Aye," Monty and Garth replied in unison.

"Aye, it was my leaving do," Eric added.

"Ar, so a new job, is it?" the taxi driver inquired. "Or are you moving away?" Monty and Garth both glanced at Eric nervously.

"Well... sort of both," Eric answered.

"So where are you off to, then?" the taxi driver asked, as Monty and Garth became even more nervous.

"Churchill Street in Howdon..." Eric replied, "...then Whitley Bay for these two. We already told you when we got in." He knew what the taxi driver meant, though. He was just trying to be funny.

"I mean where are you going for your new job?" the taxi driver clarified.

Eric started laughing to himself.

"He's just doing a bit of travelling," Monty quickly replied on Eric's behalf. Eric laughed some more and the taxi driver took this as his cue to end the conversation and shut up.

Ten minutes later they were outside Eric's house. "Well, I'll see yous in a few months' time," he said to his mates.

"Aye, good luck," Monty replied.

"And remember... you're funny and you're not fat," Garth smiled. The taxi driver gave Garth a smarmy look to indicate that he disagreed with the first half of this statement.

"Aye, I'm funny but I'm not fat," Eric repeated.

And with that he headed inside for what would be his final night's sleep on Earth for quite some time.

Chapter Sixteen – The Plan

Surprisingly, Eric just about made it up in time for Jixyl and Azleev's arrival. Packing was a bit of a rush job, which normally would leave him worried he had forgotten something, but he told himself that if he _had_ forgotten anything he could no doubt buy a flashier and more up-to-date version of it on the planet Fem.

And that brought him to a previously unmentioned question.

Money.

He hadn't yet considered how he was going to support himself during his forthcoming stay on the planet Fem.

"I've just thought," he announced to Jixyl and Azleev. "What am I gonna do for money while I'm there? I'm not gonna have to work, am I?"

"Don't worry. You won't have to work," Azleev assured him. "It's best that you spend all of your time focussed on the mission... without the distraction of work."

"Phewf!" Eric exclaimed. A big smile of relief broke out on his face, before he quickly added, "I mean... yeah, I totally agree. I definitely reckon it's best that I refrain from work, like, and just concentrate on having fun."

"You need to concentrate on saving the Earth," Jixyl pointed out. "Not having fun."

"Ar, yeah. That's what I meant," Eric agreed, before repeating, "So what am I gonna do for money, then?"

"Don't worry. We've got everything planned out," Azleev again assured him. "You'll not be going directly to Fem. We'll be dropping you off on Pokar Dix first, then once you're on Pokar Dix you can set up a credit account and we'll keep that topped up with funds for you while you're on Fem."

"Ar, cheers, like," Eric beamed, gratefully. "Hey, that's totally generous, that, like."

"It's not generous. It's just the best practical solution," Azleev stated. "If there was a better alternative then we'd consider it, but there's not."

"Flip, it must be costing you loads, is it?" Eric inquired.

"A canny bit," Jixyl acknowledged. "So don't go wild spending it all on crap you don't need, right?"

"Jixyl's just being tight," Azleev remarked. "The exchange rate is pretty good at the moment actually. So if you think it's a situation where spending will help the mission then spend it. Success is the number one priority."

Their final stop before they left was to visit Monty and Garth to drop off two Galactic Information Network units. They also showed Monty and Garth how to sign up for 'A.T.S.' which stood for 'Across The Stars' and was basically a social networking site, rather like facebook only with extra bells and whistles, and just as many virus-like applications trying to spread themselves to your friends before you even had a chance to test out for yourself what the application did.

Eric was totally chuffed when he discovered that he was going to be able to keep in touch with his mates. Firstly, because it meant he could consult their opinion whenever he needed any advice on pulling. Secondly, because whenever he had been travelling in the past he always enjoyed e-mailing his mates to tell them what a class time he was having and how sunny it was. And thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, because he always enjoyed reading their subsequent replies telling him how rainy and miserable it was in England and how much they hated their jobs.

Once Monty and Garth were up to speed on how to work their G.I.N. units and how to find their way around A.T.S. it was then finally time for Eric to leave, and so he headed down to Whitley Bay Beach with Jixyl and Azleev to board their spaceship. He took one final look around and then made his way up into the sitting quarters.

Seconds later they took off and as they accelerated across the galaxy the Earth quickly shrank down in size until it became so small it was out of sight.

Although Eric had been on the spaceship several times now, this was the first time he had actually left the Earth's atmosphere. "Flip! That was impressive, like!" he exclaimed, as he peered out of the viewing interface and watched the Earth disappear into the distance.

"It just seems normal to us," Azleev shrugged.

"Normal? Flip! That's, like, totally mind-blowing, that, like," Eric enthused.

"I suppose when you're surrounded by the mind-blowing every day it just becomes ordinary," Azleev mused.

As they made their journey across the galaxy to the planet Fyra, Jixyl transferred numerous maps, pieces of information, articles, various G.I.N. links and anything else that Eric possibly might find useful into Eric's phone.

He also talked him through the plan step by step in greater detail. The key points were as follows:

1) Once on Fyra, Eric would get implanted with the 'Telix-17' virus which would hopefully be the downfall of the Femlings.

2) Eric would then spend the next week (which, as it was a Fyraling week, equated to nine days by Earth standards) getting fully trained up on everything he needed to know about the planet Fem and Femling culture and society.

3) Once trained up, Jixyl and Azleev would then drop Eric off on Pokar Dix which had been chosen as the transit planet because of its relatively lax and antiquated planetary security system, which would mean Jixyl and Azleev would have no trouble dropping Eric off undetected. A further reason why Pokar Dix was the perfect choice was the fact that many ex-pat Femlings lived there, so Eric would be able to travel onto Fem with a fake Femling passport without arousing any suspicion whatsoever.

4) Whilst on Pokar Dix he would set up a credit account into which they would then deposit funds for Eric to use once he got to Fem. Eric was pleased to learn that credit accounts on Pokar Dix, and indeed Fem, worked on 'iris-scan technology' so there was no need for cash cards. This was a weight off Eric's mind as he was always paranoid whenever he went travelling that he might lose his cash card and be stuck for money, but he figured there was pretty little chance of him losing his irises.

5) Once his credit account was successfully set up and funded, Eric would then book himself on the first available shuttle to Sumai City, the primary transit hub of Fem. He would then catch the next available magnapod straight down to Ko Pagna, which was the beautiful island destination where young travellers from all over the planet Fem flocked to, to party it up in the sunshine.

This was the one point of the plan where Eric suggested a small change of detail.

"Big cities generally have better shops than islands, like," he highlighted. "So do you not reckon I should spend a couple of days in Sumai City first buying lots of sharp outfits for my holiday?"

"It's not a holiday," Azleev reminded him. "It's a mission to save every living species on your home planet."

"Ar, yeah. That's what I meant. For my mission," Eric quickly corrected. If he was being honest though, his mindset was already starting to see it as a holiday first and a mission second.

"Nar, you won't need to buy clothes," Jixyl remarked. "We've got loads of typical clothes ready for you once you get to Fyra to help you blend in. You won't need any more."

"Aye but no offence, like, but I don't think yous are on the sharp edge of fashion like myself," Eric opined.

"Look, man. You're going there to snog loads of lasses, not strut up the catwalk," Jixyl pointed out.

"Yeah, but fashion and pulling are intrinsically linked," Eric explained. "Trust uz, I've spent plenty of time on beach resorts in my time and most of the dudes just wear novelty souvenir t-shirts and boring beach shorts. If you go out with some sharp styles on and all the other dudes are dressed like unimaginative, uninspired sheep then you've already given yourself an advantage."

"Yeah, he's right," Azleev admitted.

"Course I'm right," Eric boasted. "It makes you stand out, it makes you look confident and, possibly the most important factor... if you pay a lass a compliment on her outfit and you're wearing an excellent outfit yourself, then _your_ compliment means ten times more than the compliment from the daft chump in the novelty t-shirt."

"Aye, I suppose that's true," Jixyl conceded.

"So all I'm saying is give uz a couple of days in Sumai City to assess Femling fashion trends and then do a bit of shopping, and it'll be time and money well spent," Eric reasoned.

"Yeah, fair enough," Azleev agreed. "Do that, then."

"Don't go crazy with the cash, though," Jixyl insisted. "You don't want to draw attention to yourself."

"Don't worry. That's part of my fashion philosophy," Eric replied. "Anyone can look good if they spend a lot of money. But if you _don't_ spend much and still look good then that shows that you know your stuff when it comes to fashion and don't just use expensive labels as a sort of an easy safety net."

"Here, have you heard yourself?" Jixyl chuckled. "You think you're a proper expert."

"Well I am," Eric shrugged.

What with this being a book you haven't had a chance to see how Eric dresses so he may have come across as being a little bit arrogant with his last statement, but Eric didn't see it that way. In his eyes he was just being honest.

Like he had often pointed out to people who accused Noel Gallagher of being arrogant, Oasis have got a load of songs which are blatantly excellent, so when Noel describes them as such he's only being honest. If he described his songs as merely average or even moderately okay then he would be being a liar, so he's in a bit of a no-win situation really.

And this was also the situation Eric saw himself in when it came to fashion. He genuinely had a high opinion of his fashion sense, so to pretend otherwise would be being dishonest. And in Eric's eyes arrogance was less of an evil than dishonesty.

Anyway, Jixyl and Azleev were convinced by his arguments and so the plan was altered slightly to allow for a couple of days in Sumai City for Eric to get kitted out in sharp threads.

6) The final stage of the plan was that Eric would go out every night (wearing his sharp new clothes) and snog loads of Femling lasses to infect them with the Telix-17 virus and hopefully initiate the death of the Femling species. Or at the very least, spread the virus to enough of the population to force them into diverting scientific resources away from creating a disease to kill mankind and instead towards finding a cure for the Telix-17 virus.

I suppose you're thinking now, 'Ar, well thanks for telling uz the story and spoiling it for uz, like,' but as pointed out earlier this was only the plan.

And on Fem, as on Earth, very few plans go exactly to plan.

Chapter Seventeen – Crossing The Line

'The Department of Driving Licences

Marrick Street

Woolton

Georgeland

The Planet Fyra

Dear D.D.L.

In accordance with item 3(ii) (conditions of validity) of my driving licence, I am writing to inform you of some recent changes to my circumstances.

You will be delighted to hear that I recently lost half a stone and have therefore gone down a dress size. I have also had blonde highlights put in my hair which really compliment my delicate complexion.

I would be obliged if you could therefore update your records and if you require any further information regarding the recent changes to my circumstances please do not hesitate to contact me.

Yours Faithfully

Pasha Wilmox'

Healey Stetta, Pasha's friend, looked up from reading the letter and smiled at Pasha. "No, man. That's not the type of change of circumstances they mean," Healey explained. "They mean, like, if you change your address or get penalty points on your licence or anything like that."

"Don't worry. I know what they mean," Pasha replied. "But it's all part of a bigger plan." A smug grin appeared on Pasha's face. "This is the first step towards me making myself a nice little fortune."

Healey looked confused...

. . . . . . .

"Good book?" Azleev asked, turning around from his control seat to address Eric.

"Aye, it's alright," Eric replied. "It's a bit daft but that's alright cos I like daft books. There should be more daftness in the world in my opinion."

"Anyway, we'll be there in about fifteen minutes," Azleev announced. "And you said you wanted to watch the descent into Fyra's atmosphere."

Eric had been reading the latest e-novel, 'Happiness Must Be Vigorously Pursued' by popular Fyraling author, Neb Belton, on his mobile phone and he was quite enjoying it, but quickly put his phone down despite his enjoyment as he was understandably excited about the prospect of landing on an alien planet.

"Flip! A few more minutes and I'm gonna be on a different planet," he gushed. "Like... flip!"

"Yeah," Azleev replied.

"Flip, this is gonna be class, this, like!" Eric enthused.

"It's not a holiday though, remember," Jixyl reminded him. "You're coming here as part of your mission. It's not about having a class time. It's all about saving the Earth."

"Ar, yeah," Eric agreed.

And then something occurred to him which he hadn't yet considered. "I've just thought..." he announced. "What about the ugly Femlings?"

Jixyl and Azleev looked confused. "What about them?" Azleev quizzed.

"Well surely they'll slip the net," Eric suggested. "Like, there must be a canny few ugly Femlings that never score cos they're so ugly. Well surely therefore they're not gonna catch the Telix-17 virus."

"Trust us... the vast majority of the Femling population are attractive," Azleev reassured Eric.

"Yeah honestly, once you start the ball rolling the vast majority of the Femlings will soon be dead," Jixyl added. "All the variables are loaded against them. The Telix-17 virus has a near one hundred percent success rate for infection through snogging."

"And another thing in our favour is the timescale of the disease," Azleev remarked. "From the moment of infection it takes the Telix-17 virus six months before it kills its victim. And for the first five months of infection the carrier appears perfectly healthy, which means five months for them to infect other Femlings. Trust us, if you pull this off then within a couple of years the Femling population will be decimated."

"Yeah, but surely no matter how good the variables are in our favour, there must surely still be a few ugly Femlings that are gonna be saved from infection by their ugliness," Eric insisted.

"Even ugly people get _some_ action," Jixyl argued.

"Yeah, _some_ of them," Eric conceded, "but not _all_ of them. All I'm saying is there must surely be one or two that'll slip through the net."

"Well if there _is_ a handful that survive their priority isn't going to be killing every living thing on Earth, is it?" Azleev highlighted. "Their priority is going to be repopulating Fem."

Eric's mind ticked over for a few moments. "Aye, I suppose," he finally acknowledged. "That'd be a gutter, like, wouldn't it? Like, imagine if you had to repopulate a planet. You'd be, like, 'Ar, class! Get in! Constant fun... _and_ with an honourable purpose!' But then if someone was, like, 'Ar, but there's just one drawback... they're all ugly,' then you'd be, like, 'Ar, total gutter!' It'd be a total conflict of emotions."

"Yeah," Jixyl chuckled in agreement.

Eric was quiet for a few moments before another question entered his head. "So will I need that fake passport for when we land, then?" he asked.

"That's for when you go to Fem," Azleev explained. "The Femlings have got Fyra down as next on their list after Earth, remember? So if you tried to use a Femling passport on Fyra you wouldn't be too popular."

"So have you got uz a fake Fyraling passport as well, have you?" Eric asked.

"No," Jixyl answered.

"What, then?" Eric inquired, curiously.

"We're just gonna smuggle you in," Jixyl revealed.

"Seriously?" Eric didn't like the sound of this.

"Well, aye. What else can we do? It's the only option," Jixyl explained.

"Is that not a bit dodgy, though?" Eric queried, starting to get mildly concerned.

"Only if we get caught... but we'll probably not get caught, like," Jixyl reassured Eric.

Eric didn't feel very reassured, however. "Eh! _Probably?_ That's not very reassuring," he remarked.

"Look, man. The immigration authorities have only reported three cases of people smuggling in the last twelve months," Jixyl pointed out.

"Ar, I don't like the sound of this, like," Eric commented, nervously. "What happens if we get caught?"

"Well..." Jixyl paused, and it has to be said he looked very uncomfortable. "Don't worry. Like I say, we'll probably not get caught."

"Look, we'll be within range of the Planetary Orbital Monitoring System in a few minutes, so you'll have to be quiet," Azleev ordered.

"Ar, this sounds dodgy, this, like," Eric worried. "In fact that's why you won't tell uz what happens if we get caught, isn't it? It's cos it's totally dodgy."

"Look, fair enough... I'll admit the last couple of people they caught they decided to put down," Jixyl admitted, "but..."

"Put down!" Eric screeched, clearly extremely alarmed at this unpleasant revelation. "Flip! I'm not a pet, you know! In fact, nar! I've changed my mind! I wanna go back to Earth!"

"You've got nothing to worry about, man," Jixyl insisted. "You're an enemy of the Femlings and an enemy of the Femlings is a friend of the Fyralings. At the worst they'd probably send you to the prison planet of Incarsirus for a few months... but they might even just let you off altogether."

"Na! I don't wanna take the risk," Eric protested, making his feelings on the matter very clear. "You didn't mention any of this when you were telling uz about the plan. It was all, 'Oo, you'll get to live in the sunshine for a few months and snog loads of fit lasses.' There was no mention of any, 'Ar, by the way... there's a chance you might get put down or locked up on some prison planet somewhere.' Well, nar. I'm not doing it. I wanna go back to Earth."

At this point Jixyl started laughing, which Eric, given his imminent potential impending death or incarceration, found more than a little insensitive. "Aye, well I'm glad _you_ find it so funny but I've never found getting killed the greatest source of humour so seriously... turn the ship around cos I'm not doing it. I didn't sign up for any danger, like. I signed up for fun in the sun." At this point Eric noticed a wry smile on Azleev's face, which given that he was generally the more responsible and mature of the two, confused Eric somewhat. "What's funny, like?" he asked.

"It's just a joke," Azleev confessed. "Don't worry, we cleared all the paperwork in advance. Besides, like we said, Fyra is the next target of the Femlings' 'Quality Of Life' proposal... so if you manage to pull this off you'd be a hero on Fyra. Think about it, why would we imprison a hero? You're doing it primarily for mankind but we've got a vested interest as well, remember?"

A smile of relief broke out on Eric's face. A few moments later, however, it was replaced by a look of anger. "Here! You're mental idiots, yous, like!" he exploded.

"Calm down, man," Jixyl soothed. "It was just a joke."

"Ar, aye! Class joke, like!" Eric replied, meaning the opposite. "'By the way there's a chance you might die. Nar, man. Just joking.' Aye, that was pure comedy genius."

"Here, man. I've said it was just a joke," Jixyl protested. "What's the problem?"

"Here, man! What's the problem!?" Eric snapped back. "The problem is, you don't trick someone into thinking they might get put down. That's not a joke. That's just being a complete idiot."

"I didn't think you'd fall for it anyway," Jixyl shrugged. "I thought you'd blatantly realise that humans and Fyralings share the same goals, so we'd obviously not imprison someone that could ensure our own long-term safety as well."

"Yeah, _your_ situation might be a bit more urgent," Azleev added, "but if the Femlings carry on with their twisted plans then further down the line we're gonna be in the same boat as you are. So we need you free and fighting for the common cause... not stuck in a prison somewhere."

"Here, man! I've never been to your planet before so how am I meant to know how things work in your society?" Eric argued. "For all I know you might be complete mental idiots. In fact you _are_ complete mental idiots."

"Here, man. Get over it, will you?" Jixyl moaned. "It was just a bit of a laugh."

"Ar, that's alright, then. As long as you found it funny," Eric mocked. "Here, you don't understand the concept behind playing a lush snaky trick on someone. The other person has to find the trick funny as well... otherwise it's not a lush snaky trick. It's just being a snide."

"Well I thought you _would_ find it funny," Jixyl protested, defensively.

"On what basis would I ever find my potential impending death funny?" Eric questioned.

"Well we said you'd probably only go to prison," Jixyl defended.

"Well going to prison on some strange alien planet isn't all that funny either, like," Eric pointed out.

"Look, how about this... Jixyl you apologise and we all forget about it," Azleev proposed.

" _I_ apologise?" Jixyl remonstrated. " _You_ went along with it as well, like, Azleev," he added, resorting to the age-old tactic of attempting to share out the blame.

"Yeah, but it was mainly you," Azleev insisted.

"Look, can I just explain to you with an example?" Eric interjected. He still wasn't finished explaining his 'lush snaky trick' theory. "Say if I put a drawing pin on someone's seat and then when they come back I deliberately look shifty so that they know something's up, and then they spot the drawing pin and move it, then that's a lush snaky trick cos it's implying that I wanted them to sit on the drawing pin but at the same time they don't actually experience any pain or discomfort.

But if I actually let them sit on the drawing pin then that's not a lush snaky trick anymore. That's just being a snide. You have to know where to draw the line.

So if you're taking it up to the point of letting someone think they might die or go to prison then that's mebbees crossing the line a little bit, okay? D'you understand?"

"Okay, we get the idea," Azleev accepted. "But anyway, I thought you said you wanted to enjoy the descent."

"Aye, I do," Eric confirmed, "but it was just important to ensure you understand the rules of playing a lush snaky trick first."

"Right, well we understand now," Azleev replied, "so enjoy the view..."

The three of them all finally agreed to draw a line under the issue and so Eric took a deep breath of anticipation and peered out of the viewing interface. "How come a descent takes longer than a take-off, then?" he inquired.

"Just for safety reasons," Azleev explained. "Just cos when you leave an atmosphere you're heading towards an empty vacuum of emptiness so you can safely go really fast, whereas when you _enter_ an atmosphere you're heading towards a big massive rock, therefore an atmospheric entry requires a slower speed than an exit, just for safety reasons."

"Ar, right," Eric nodded, and he stared outside and breathed in the excitement as they finally began their descent into Fyra's atmosphere. Eric had been to East Africa a few years ago and that was the first time he had flown, and he could still remember the buzz of excitement he felt as the buildings and trees gradually got bigger and bigger as the plane descended into Nairobi airport.

This though, was about fifty times more exciting than that. His eyes were nearly popping out of his head. It felt almost like a movie with ground-breaking – no, ground- _shattering_ – amazing special effects.

But it wasn't a movie. It was real. And Eric was totally loving it. He loved travelling, loved visiting new places and had been to some of the most amazing places on Earth... The Great Barrier Reef, The Grand Canyon, St.James Park and many more, but none of them came even remotely close to what he was experiencing right now. And as a huge smile broke out across his face he realised that Jixyl and Azleev's misjudged joke was a small price to pay for the amazingly awe-inspiring experience he was experiencing right now.

And over the next few months there would be many more amazing experiences waiting ahead for Eric.

But also a few more prices to pay.

And some of them, unfortunately for Eric, not so small.

Chapter Eighteen – The Dude Who Saved The Earth

"Here, man! I promise you I haven't shagged any blonde lasses!" Jixyl repeated for the umpteenth time. Jixyl had only been back on Fyra for a few hours and already the unfortunate consequences of Eric's retaliatory text to Jeemia about 'shagging a blonde lass' were coming to a head.

"Then why did you send Jeemia a text saying you had, then?" Sverine asked. Sverine was Jixyl's girlfriend. And Jeemia, so it turned out, was Sverine's best mate. Not, as Eric had incorrectly assumed, Jixyl's girlfriend.

"I've told you... _I_ didn't send the text," Jixyl explained. "I lost my mobile. Whoever found it must be just playing a stupid joke." For whatever reason, Jixyl was reluctant to reveal his recent trips to Earth to his girlfriend.

"Well why would someone send a text like that for a joke?" Sverine queried.

"Well why would _I_ send a text like that?" Jixyl argued. "Here, man! You must think I'm stupid. If I'd slept with a blonde lass why would I send your best mate a text telling her about it?"

"Cos all men are skanky dogs," Sverine answered.

"We're not, man," Jixyl protested. "Most of us are canny sound."

"Well you're one of the ones that falls into the 'skanky dogs' category," Sverine asserted.

"Anyway, even if I _was_ a skanky dog, which I'm not, that still doesn't answer my question. A skanky dog, which I'm not, might cheat on his girlfriend but he wouldn't then admit to it," Jixyl reasoned.

"Ar, so you're saying you'd lie about it!" Sverine retorted.

"No, man! I'm saying I wouldn't do it in the first place!" Jixyl snapped. "But if I did I certainly wouldn't admit to it."

"You see! I knew I was right!" Sverine proclaimed, taking Jixyl's response as an admission of guilt. "I knew I couldn't trust you!"

"Look, man! Just think about the logic for a second," Jixyl insisted. "There's no logical explanation as to why I would shag a blonde lass and then admit to it."

"Well maybe just cos Jeemia sent you a text saying she'd shagged a black guy. Maybe you were feeling competitive," Sverine proposed.

"Competitive? Eh? What sort of ridiculous logic is that?" Jixyl questioned, looking bemused. "So you're saying my lass's best mate sends uz a text saying she's achieved her 'black guy' fantasy, so I then feel the need to make up a lie to her saying that I shagged a blonde lass... which isn't even my fantasy."

"So you don't fancy me, then?" Sverine inquired. As you may have guessed from her response, Sverine was blonde.

"Aye, of course I fancy you," Jixyl assured her. "But, like, I just fancy you _specifically_. I don't fancy blonde lasses in general." Jixyl actually did fancy blonde lasses in general but he correctly assumed that right at this moment it probably wouldn't be the best idea to admit to it. "Look, fair enough, I can understand you being angry cos if you had lost your mobile and someone had sent me a random text saying you'd cheated on uz, I'd be angry as well. But once I'd calmed down and thought about it, I'd realise that logically there's no way you would send a text like that so it must have been sent by someone else."

"Maybe you didn't think Jeemia would tell uz," Sverine suggested.

"Course she'd tell you!" Jixyl remonstrated. "She's your best mate! Course she's gonna tell you if she gets a text saying... Well, just a text like that."

"Well maybe you thought she'd keep quiet to spare my feelings," Sverine proposed.

"Well why would I even take the risk?" Jixyl argued. "Like, surely it'd be even safer just not to tell her in the first place."

Sverine was starting to see the logic in what Jixyl was saying but her initial anger still had a hold on her. So Jixyl suggested that the best course of action was for them to both go their separate ways for a couple of days and then discuss the matter further once Sverine had calmed down and had a chance to think about things logically. Sverine agreed to this suggestion with the one slight adjustment that she thought it was best to give Jixyl one final tirade of abuse first prior to them going their separate ways.

After receiving the tirade of abuse Jixyl returned straight away to his student quarters to see Eric and he wasn't happy. "Why did you send a text to Jeemia saying I'd shagged a blonde lass?" he demanded.

"Ar, em... I meant to tell you about that," Eric stuttered.

"What were you thinking of?" Jixyl snapped.

"Well just cos your lass sent you a text saying..." Eric was reluctant to reveal to Jixyl about what he still believed was his cheating girlfriend but eventually decided that given the circumstances Jixyl would want to know the truth, if he didn't already, that is. "Well, just that she'd shagged a black guy."

" _Sverine_ shagged a black guy?" Jixyl queried, suddenly looking slightly confused, not to mention more than a little curious.

"Sverine?" Eric replied. "Who's Sverine?"

"My girlfriend," Jixyl replied.

"Not Jeemia?" Eric questioned.

"No. Jeemia's her best mate," Jixyl explained.

"Ar," Eric muttered. And then the repercussions of his text finally hit him. "Ar... well, em... I think I might have made a bit of a slight mug up."

"A _slight_ mug up?" Jixyl exclaimed. "More like a scale ten mug up, you fool!" It has to be said he didn't look very happy.

Eric felt totally foolish and did his best to convey his apologeticness in his body language. "Ar, soz. Like, I'm totally sorry. Like, I just thought you'd want revenge and all that. Like, I thought I was doing you a favour."

"By sending my girlfriend's best mate a text saying I'd shagged a blonde lass!" Jixyl snapped. When put like that, Eric had to admit that it possibly wasn't the greatest favour he had ever done for anyone.

"Well, er... I sort of, er... misjudged the situation a bit," Eric mumbled.

"Ar, hey. Earth's in deep crap if it has to rely on a fool like you to save it," Jixyl spat.

"Ar, don't worry. I'm normally not as daft as that," Eric insisted. "Honestly, it's usually totally rare when I do stuff as daft as that."

"Well it'll have to be if you're gonna have any chance of success with your mission," Jixyl warned. "Seriously, from now on you need to demonstrate a much greater degree of common sense."

"Ar, yeah. Definitely, like," Eric promised. "Don't worry. That was just a one-off mug up."

"Right, well from now on... no more mug ups," Jixyl counselled. "Not even one off ones."

"Ar, yeah. Totally," Eric affirmed. "No more mug ups."

And so, needless to say, Eric didn't get much sleep that night. Partly because he was concerned and embarrassed about the trouble he had caused for Jixyl with his girlfriend. But partly also because he was on a different planet billions of miles away from Earth which was a total buzz for Eric.

And also partly because over the next few weeks he might possibly go down in history as the dude who saved the Earth.

'Aye, the dude who saved the Earth,' Eric thought to himself. 'I like the sound of that. It's got a nice ring to it.'

Meanwhile in the next room, Jixyl was thinking of Eric as something quite different from the dude who saved the Earth. Jixyl was thinking of Eric as 'the daft gormless chump that had probably split him and Sverine up'.

But if everything went to plan then that was a price that Jixyl would be more than willing to pay.

Chapter Nineteen – Last Minute Preparation

By the time Eric awoke the following morning he had come to the conclusion that Jixyl had probably brought his current situation with his girlfriend upon himself, on account of the way he had messed with that Natalie lass's feelings during The Nivlax Festival. 'It's probably just bad karma teaching Jixyl a lesson,' Eric told himself in a blatant attempt to absolve himself of any blame. This attempt at acquitting himself from guilt wasn't entirely successful, however, and Jixyl obviously picked up on this over breakfast as he felt the need to give Eric a pep talk.

"Look, if you're still worried about the fact that you've probably split me and my lass up then forget about it," Jixyl very generously remarked. "Don't worry about it. I've moved on from the fact that you've probably split up me and my girlfriend. In the grand scheme of things, what matters now is saving the Earth, not the fact that you've probably split up me and my girlfriend."

Eric couldn't help noticing that for someone who had allegedly moved on from his current relationship difficulties, Jixyl seemed very keen to mention the aforementioned difficulties at every available opportunity.

"Ar, right. Well I'll try to focus on saving the Earth, then," Eric agreed.

The first step in Eric saving the Earth involved him going to the Biological Research Department at the nearby Fyraling University Of Advanced Science to get implanted with the Telix-17 virus.

Not long after Jixyl and Azleev had discovered the predicament Earth faced, they had by chance bumped into an old school friend named Stymer who had been working on a top secret project aimed at providing the Fyralings with a way to defend themselves in the event that the Femlings were ever to decide that Fyra was the next planet to merit elimination as an 'act of kindness' under the Quality Of Life proposal. When Jixyl mentioned to Stymer the twisted plans the Femlings had for Earth, Stymer had thought it the honourable thing to do to mention the Telix-17 virus his research had created and explain the possibilities this presented to the inhabitants of Earth for a chance of survival.

Jixyl and Azleev had then passed on this information to Eric, which was why he was now on his way to Stymer's research laboratory. Azleev had an important lecture that morning so Jixyl was Eric's escort for the trip. Before long they were at the lab and Jixyl knocked on the door. Seconds later Stymer appeared and invited them into the lab.

As Eric entered the lab however, his excitement suddenly disappeared, to be replaced by an attack of paranoia. "I've just thought," he announced, "what happens if I'm not immune after all and I die as well?"

"Well you _are_ immune so that's a daft question," Jixyl answered.

"Yeah, but what happens if for some reason my anti-bodies don't work properly and I catch the disease and die?" Eric hypothesised.

"Look, man. Don't stress," Jixyl replied, tetchily. "Humans are immune. That's all you need to know." Eric didn't find this explanation very reassuring, however.

"Your immunity isn't based on anti-bodies," Stymer explained, going into more detail. "It's the biological structure of your brain which gives you your immunity. The process the virus follows goes from stage A to stage B to stage C. And the part of the brain which allows stage B to take place doesn't exist in humans, so it's physically impossible to get to stage C in humans.

It's like if you imagine a toy train track with one of the pieces of track missing. There's no possible way for the train to do a complete lap."

Eric considered this information for a moment. "Ar, right. Cheers. That's alright, then. I just needed reassured. That's all," he replied, before turning to Jixyl. "You see! You should try explaining stuff properly. People feel much more comfortable if you tell them a proper explanation, rather than just saying, 'Ar, don't worry. You're just immune.'"

"I was right, though," Jixyl insisted. "You _are_ immune."

"Aye, but there was no harm in telling uz _why_ I'm immune," Eric proclaimed.

"Anyway, have you gone four hours without food?" Stymer asked.

"Aye, I'm starving," Eric complained. He turned once again to Jixyl. "You didn't mention I'd have to starve myself, like, when you were telling uz the plan. Otherwise I mightn't have been so keen." He was only half-joking.

"Four hours without food isn't a big deal, like," Jixyl asserted. The look on Eric's face suggested that he disagreed with this statement.

"Anyway, if you'll just swallow this medicine," Stymer announced, "and that's it done." He handed Eric a small thimbleful of red medicine which Eric took with his gloved hands, then downed it in one gulp.

"I'm surprised it was just medicine, like. I thought it would have been an injection or something," Eric remarked, before adding, "Not that I'm complaining, like."

"No, blood cells kill the virus before it has a chance to cement itself in your system," Stymer explained, "so it couldn't be an injection. It has to be saliva."

"Saliva?" Eric queried. "Well how come it was medicine, then?"

"The medicine was predominantly saliva," Stymer revealed.

A look of horror appeared on Eric's face. "Urgh!" he cried out. "So I've just drunk a cup of spit!? Urgh!" He looked quite distressed by this revelation.

"It was hardly a cup, like," Jixyl pointed out. "It was more like a thimbleful."

"Still though... I've just drunk spit!" Eric exclaimed. "Eurgh!! That's totally sick!" Eric had to concentrate to stop himself from actually _being_ sick, but he just about managed to keep his guts intact.

"So was it a lass's spit, like, was it?" he then inquired, hopefully, "or a dude's?"

"It was mine," Stymer disclosed, matter-of-factly.

The look of horror on Eric's face increased tenfold. "Eurghh!!!" he exclaimed. "Ar... nar." Eric could just about have handled a lass's saliva but he found the concept of swallowing a dude's saliva utterly repulsive. "Urgh!" he repeated, before quickly adding, "No offence, like. It's just that... urgh! A dude's saliva! Like... eurgh! Ar, honestly. I feel sick."

"There's an anti-nausea agent in the medicine," Stymer declared, "so don't worry, you won't be sick. Psychologically, you might feel unpleasant, but you won't actually be sick."

"Ar, well that's a weight off my mind," Eric joked, "cos I was only concerned about being sick. I wasn't concerned at all by the fact that I've just drank a dude's saliva."

"By the way, you might have noticed... Eric's a complete sarky nowt," Jixyl remarked.

Eric though, did indeed manage to keep the medicine/saliva down. So the first stage of the plan was complete.

The next stage was sorting out the method of G.O.T. to be used by Eric during his time on Fem. A mobile phone was quickly ruled out as impractical. When Eric was with Jixyl and Azleev, it wasn't a big issue if there was an occasional G.O.T.less moment. But if this happened on Fem it would blow Eric's cover and so a more permanent method of G.O.T. was required. It was therefore decided that Eric would receive an ear implant as this totally removed the possibility that he might forget to carry a portable G.O.T. device with him at some time.

It was also decided that the version of G.O.T. Eric would be fitted with would be version 2.5. This was the latest flashiest version of G.O.T. and eliminated the vast majority of the few minor communicational blips with version 2.2. It cost a hefty old wedge but it was decided that even an occasional slight communicational moment of confusion on Fem might possibly blow Eric's cover, and therefore, despite version 2.5 being generally perceived as a total rip-off, on this occasion the exorbitant cost was a price that was worth paying.

Inserting the ear implant was a painless process, as Eric himself commented after the process was completed.

"Hey, that was alright, that, like," he remarked. "I was a bit worried it might knack a bit but I didn't really feel anything."

"Yeah, it's a simple procedure," the ear doctor confirmed.

"I've just thought, though. Is it waterproof?" Eric inquired.

"Don't worry. It's waterproof," the doctor assured him. "It's also shockproof, fireproof and explosion-proof. If you got blasted to smithereens the ear implant would still be working fine."

"Hmm..." Eric pondered. "That's not gonna happen, though, is it? I mean, I was thinking more along the lines of there's a good chance I might want to go for a swim. But there's not a good chance I'll get blown to smithereens, is there?"

"Nar, of course not," Jixyl answered. The doctor looked a bit confused by Eric's question.

"Ar, good," Eric smiled.

"But if you did the ear implant would still be intact," the ear doctor boasted.

"Hmm..." Eric repeated.

After a few moments another question came to him. "And what about customs? Like... will it make uz beep when I walk through the metal detector machine?" The doctor once again looked slightly confused.

"You'll have to forgive my mate," Jixyl shrugged at the doctor. "He suffers from memory loss so he sometimes comes across as a bit out of touch with modern science."

"No, don't worry. It's constructed from a non-metallic alloy," the doctor explained. "Every problem you can come up with, the designers have already thought of and solved."

The ear implant wouldn't overcome all of Eric's communicational difficulties, however. He was now able to communicate verbally with every species in the galaxy, but the ear implant couldn't solve the problem of the written word. Electronic devices were almost always G.O.T. enabled anyway nowadays, so using things like mobiles and PCs wouldn't be a problem for Eric. But printed words, for example on chocolate bars and on signs outside bars and restaurants, would still be gobbledegook to Eric.

So the next stage of the plan involved attaching semi-permanent G.O.T. enabled contact lenses to Eric's eyes.

Eric was quite understandably nervous about having alterations made to his eyesight.

"I dunno about this," he remarked, as he and Jixyl sat in the optician's waiting room.

"Well it's either get the contact lenses inserted or not be able to read when you go to Fem and, like, therefore give the game away that you're not a Femling and fail in the mission," Jixyl explained.

"Ar, yeah. I know," Eric replied. "Don't worry. I don't mean 'I don't know about this' as in 'I'm not gonna do it.' I just mean 'I dunno about this' as in 'I'm still obviously gonna do it, but I just wanna have a bit of a whinge about it first.'"

"There's no need to whinge, like," Jixyl asserted. "Virtually all Fyralings get G.O.T. contact lenses as a matter of course and there's never any problems. It's as simple as having a quadruple heart bypass."

"Flip! Is a quadruple heart bypass not canny complicated, like?" Eric inquired.

"Nar, course not," Jixyl responded.

"Ar, aye. Soz. I keep forgetting yous are all, like, scientific geniuses compared to us on Earth," Eric replied.

"Aye, so don't stress," Jixyl advised. "Just remember, all these procedures that might seem complicated to you are really simple and straightforward to us cos technology is really advanced on Fyra compared to Earth."

And so after having a bit whinge about it, Eric then chilled out and didn't stress and got the contact lenses attached which meant that physically he was finally ready. All that remained now was to learn as much as he could about the planet Fem and Femling science and society. So that was exactly how he spent the next few days.

Learning about Femling society was a pretty easy task, as it was very similar to society on Earth, other than a few minor differences. Learning about Femling science, however, was a more time-consuming task, as they were so far advanced compared to the levels of science reached on Earth. Fortunately for Eric though, the majority of Femling science wouldn't really affect his day to day living on the island resort of Ko Pagna, as most scientific developments related to space travel, weaponry or medical science. He still had to be aware of these scientific inventions and processes, but didn't require more than a basic general knowledge. And besides, he had his portable G.I.N. unit with access to billions of G.I.N. sites if any subjects came up during his time on Fem which he needed to further research.

And so after a few days of intensive learning Eric was ready to begin his mission. All the pieces of the jigsaw were in place.

Eric was ready to save the Earth.

Part Two...

Fem

Chapter One – The Journey

Eric had encountered the first of the 'not so small prices' he had to pay on his mission and he wasn't happy.

"Ar, howay, man! Can you not go any closer?" he moaned. Jixyl and Azleev had flown him to Pokar Dix and had bypassed the planetary security systems without any problems whatsoever. Now though, they had reached a point approximately ten miles away from the city of S3 and were refusing to go any closer.

"If we go any closer there's a good chance we'll get spotted and ruin the mission before it's even started," Azleev explained, "so this is as far as we can safely go."

"I know but I mean... ten miles! Like... howay! Ten miles! Flip! That's, like... miles!" Eric whinged. "Literally!" What made it worse was that Eric would have to walk the ten miles into the city centre and it was a very hot morning on Pokar Dix. "Ar, I can't believe I've got to walk ten miles! First it was having to go four hours without food and now this! It's just one nightmare after another!"

"I thought you were fit," Jixyl replied.

"I am but I normally only exercise at the gym," Eric explained. "I don't exercise in real life."

"Well we're sorry but there's no alternative," Jixyl shrugged.

Just then Eric had a thought. "You know what? Back on Earth I'm quite stupid," he remarked.

"You're quite stupid everywhere," Jixyl joked. At least, Eric assumed he was joking.

"No, but what I mean is that I pay money to go the gym. And then when I want to travel somewhere I pay money to use the metro," Eric explained. "But what I should just do is walk or run everywhere for free and then not bother going to the gym. That way I'm saving money twice but I'm still getting plenty exercise." He nodded his head thoughtfully. "Aye, walking's the way to go, like."

"Aye, well you can start now by walking to S3," Jixyl remarked.

"Hmm... I was thinking more along the lines of implementing my new idea in more of an Earth-based environment," Eric replied.

"Look, would you rather walk ten miles or would you rather jeopardise the mission and risk letting your entire race get destroyed by the Femlings?" Jixyl questioned, not beating around the bush.

"Hmm..." Eric pondered, as he considered the options for a moment. "I'd rather yous had invented some clever teleporting device."

"Well sorry but we haven't," Jixyl stated. "Teleportation doesn't exist in real life. It's impossible."

"And we've already explained that the light refraction displacement shield that makes our spaceship invisible only works at over twenty metres," Azleev added. "If we go any closer to suburbia there'll be too many people about to ensure the twenty metre safety zone."

"Well how come you land on Whitley Bay Beach, then?" Eric asked. "I mean, like, fair enough... it's usually quiet on a night-time but there could still easily be some random dude out walking his dog."

"If the spaceship gets spotted on a non-contact planet by a one-off random bloke walking his dog it's not a problem," Azleev explained. "All that happens is that everyone thinks the bloke that saw the spaceship is mental and no-one believes him. But if we get caught on a contact planet that's a completely different matter entirely."

"Aye, I suppose," Eric reluctantly conceded. "Ar, what a gutter. These shoes are rubbish as well."

"Don't worry. We've said you can buy some trendy ones once you get to Fem," Jixyl reminded him.

"What a cheek! These _are_ trendy!" Eric retorted. "I meant they're rubbish for walking in, man. Not for fashion, you fool! Just walking."

"Look, I'm sorry saving the Earth isn't the luxurious bed of roses you expected it to be but there's nothing we can do about it," Jixyl declared. "Sorry, but that's just the way it is. You're just gonna have to walk the ten miles. There's no other way."

"Ar, gutter," Eric grumbled.

"Anyway, this is it," Azleev remarked. "This is the start of your mission. Good luck and all that."

"Cheers," Eric thanked.

"And remember, it's a covert mission," Jixyl commented. "So don't go blabbing your mouth off."

"I know," Eric replied. "I'm not stupid."

"Time will be the judge of that," Jixyl joked.

"Cheeky git," Eric muttered, with a smirk on his face.

"We know you're not stupid," Azleev acknowledged. "But there's no harm in reminding you how important it is to keep things undercover."

"Here, man! Do you think once I get to Fem I'm gonna go round saying, 'Hi! My name's Eric and I'm here to kill yous all out of self-defence?'" Eric exclaimed, quite tetchily. "Nar. Course I'm not. Don't worry, I've grasped the concept of the need for covertness."

"Like I said, we know you're not stupid," Azleev soothed. "But remember... the Femlings want to destroy all life from your planet and you're going to be mixing with them and hanging out with them day after day. It's only natural that you're going to feel some anger towards them. All we're saying is that there'll be times when you want to tell them exactly what you think of them and that's the times when you're going to be tested to the limit. But that's the times when you need to just bite your tongue and remember that the success of the mission depends on you bluffing yourself off as a Femling."

"I know, man!" Eric snapped. "Here, man! What d'you think I've spent the last nine days swotting up on?"

"As long as you realise that the safest course of action is to avoid all mention of the 'Quality Of Life' proposal while you're on Fem," Azleev advised. "That's all we're saying."

"Yeah, if they pick up on your vibes and suss that you're not quite as emphatically in favour of it as everyone else then it might blow your cover," Jixyl added.

"Right, well I'll dwell upon that fact while I'm walking the ten miles to S3 thanks to your inability to invent a suitable teleportation alternative," Eric moaned, sarcastically.

Jixyl smirked. "I'm sorry but unfortunately we're tied by the laws of physics," he shrugged, apologetically.

"Well, I'll let you off this once," Eric joked, "but don't let it happen again." He looked down once again at his inappropriate footwear. "Ar, gutter! My feet are gonna be blistered to bits after this, like."

And so as Eric made his ten mile journey to S3 his words proved to be correct. By the time he arrived two and a half hours later his feet were very sore and very blistered thanks to his trendy but 'rubbish for walking in' footwear.

On arrival he sat down for ten minutes to allow himself time to recover and then got out his mobile phone and brought up a map of S3 in order to find the nearest bank.

Setting up a credit account proved to be more like going through immigration in America than opening a bank account. He had his retinas scanned, his fingerprints analysed and his fake passport inspected, thankfully without the cashier spotting that it was a fake. It was a pretty streamlined process though, and within a matter of a few minutes Eric's new credit account was set-up and ready to use.

"And who do you buy your travel insurance with?" the cashier asked, as she handed him back his passport.

"How did you know I was going travelling?" Eric questioned, feeling slightly paranoid that his behaviour had somehow alerted the cashier to his mission.

"I didn't," the cashier replied, "but we've got a special offer on travel insurance at the moment that we're offering to all our customers."

"Ar, right," Eric remarked, as a smile of relief spread across his face. He then realised that as far as he knew he didn't actually have any travel insurance for his forthcoming trip to Fem. "Ee, flip! I've just realised! I haven't actually got any travel insurance and I'm going on holiday soon."

"Well you're in luck cos we've got twenty five percent off all our rates at the moment," the cashier revealed, her eyes lighting up as she sensed a potential sale.

Eric though, thought it was wise to consult Jixyl and Azleev before making a decision. "Em, I'll have to think about it," he stalled.

"Well I'll give you a leaflet anyway," the cashier replied, handing him a leaflet. "And here's also another leaflet about your new credit account."

Eric couldn't help noticing that the leaflet regarding his new credit account listed details of the interest rate he would receive to ten decimal places. He also couldn't help noticing that every second or so the rate changed right before his eyes. This was obviously some clever technology incorporated into the leaflet to ensure the information it provided was right up-to-date.

"Ee, that's clever, like," Eric praised, as he watched the digits change.

"What is?" the cashier inquired. The constantly updated leaflet was obviously old hat to her.

Eric looked up quickly at the cashier with another pang of paranoia in his eyes. "Ar, em... not clever. I meant, what's that other word again?" he mumbled. "Informative! Aye, that's what I meant. Not clever. Informative. I'm always getting those two words muddled up." And he quickly hurried out of the bank.

Eric then typed out the following message on his mobile phone:

' _I've just thought, do you reckon I'll need travel insurance? Just cos there's a special offer on at Blaxleys Bank at the moment for 25% off.'_

Jixyl replied almost instantly:

' _Here man, you fool. I expected it to be important, not some daft question about travel insurance.'_

Azleev's response was more helpful, however:

' _You don't need to worry about travel insurance. If anything gets lost or stolen just buy a replacement and we'll top up your credit account.'_

Eric typed back:

' _What if I have an accident, though?'_

Azleev replied:

' _If the Femlings were ever to analyse your blood they'd realise that you weren't a Femling and you'd be in big trouble. So try not to have an accident. At least, not a major one requiring surgery or a blood transfusion or any major surgical procedure.'_

Eric didn't like the sound of that. There seemed to be more and more drawbacks to the mission with every day that passed. A few seconds later a further text message arrived:

' _But if you do ever need minor treatment of some sort then you don't need travel insurance in any case because your fake Femling passport entitles you to free medical benefits as a citizen of Fem. But always check with me first to see whether the treatment you need is D.N.A. traceable.'_

Eric decided it was probably a good idea never to get injured.

Now that he'd cleared up the travel insurance dilemma he decided to focus on the more important issue of getting his credit account topped up with funds. So he texted Jixyl and Azleev his account details and within minutes enough funds were in his account to pay for his flight to Fem and last him a couple of weeks beyond that.

The next step was to catch a magnapod to the S3 Galactic Spaceport which was the biggest and busiest spaceport on Pokar Dix and the main reason why S3 had been chosen as the drop-off city for Eric.

Once inside the magnapod station Eric remembered that the section of his research he did on magnapods taught him that there was no need for tickets. All you did was walk up to the barriers, look into the camera to get your retina scanned, and the barriers would automatically open for you. Then at the other end of your journey you repeated the process and the relevant funds to pay for your journey were automatically deducted from your credit account.

Eric found the journey itself pretty spectacular. You were strapped into your seat and then a burst of ultra-high energy magnetism fired the pod down a chute to its destination, which for a local journey took literally a matter of seconds. Magnapod networks built in cities tended to be built underground due to the clutter of buildings and other man-made structures above ground, but there were also magnapods linking distant cities and these were generally built above ground. The view, however, was no more interesting as the speed of the journey ensured that everything was a blur.

As Eric emerged from the magnapod station into the spaceport at the other end of his journey he couldn't help thinking that the whole experience had been more like a fairground ride than a means of transport.

Once at the spaceport he was lucky enough to get himself a ticket for a shuttle to Fem leaving in two hours' time. However, before passing through customs and immigration he made a quick visit to the toilet to swallow one of the midenhydrinate tablets Jixyl and Azleev had given him to help him relax and stay calm. This was to ensure he would be perfectly relaxed and therefore not arouse suspicion when completing the departure formalities.

And the tablet worked perfectly. As did the fake passport. So minutes later Eric found himself sitting in the waiting area of the S3 Galactic Spaceport.

'Flip!' he thought to himself, and you might think he was pondering on the amazingness of being on another planet waiting to board a shuttle to the fourth planet he would have stepped foot on in only a few days. But what he was actually thinking was, 'Flip! Hey, this tablet's canny pleasant, like! Hey, it's a good job they only gave uz a few otherwise I could easily see myself getting addicted to these, like.'

After a few minutes of enjoying the tablet Eric decided to have a wander around the shops and cafes and discovered that the cafes were just as over-priced as the airport cafes back on Earth.

Before long though, it was time to board his shuttle and as he sat down in his seat, this time he _was_ pondering upon the amazingness of the moment.

'Flip! In a few hours' time I'll be on my third planet in only a couple of weeks!' he thought to himself. 'In fact, my fourth planet if you include Earth... which I suppose I probably should seeing as how Earth is a planet as well, like.'

As his fellow passengers boarded the shuttle and took their seats however, Eric's excitement became tinged with a slight hint of disappointment.

'Gutter! There's no wookies or jawas or nothing,' he thought to himself. In his naivety regarding the rest of the galaxy, Eric had been half-hoping that his flight would be filled with Star Wars type aliens, but it turned out that all the other passengers looked pretty much like himself. There were a few minor differences, for example, one family a few rows in front of him had pointier ears than you would ever see on Earth, and there were also a few skin tones that you wouldn't see on Earth, but overall everyone was pretty much human-esque in appearance.

'Pity. It would have been cool to have met a wookie,' Eric thought to himself. 'Even a jawa would have been good.' He then had second thoughts, though. 'Ar, nar. Actually, I remember reading once that jawas totally stink, so it's probably for the best that there's no jawas.'

The woman that sat next to Eric during the flight had undoubtedly the worst acne he had ever seen in his life. In fact it was so bad that he concluded that it must be something specific to her species, because he couldn't imagine that it was physically possible for a human from Earth to get acne that bad.

He found himself subtly glancing at the woman for the first few minutes of the flight, but then she turned to look questioningly in his direction so he quickly turned away and pretended to be massively fascinated by the cup holder on the back of the head rest in front of him. After that he decided not to concern himself with the acne of the woman sat beside him and spent the rest of the journey enjoying the in-flight entertainment system.

He was pleased to discover that the video games were amazing. Far in advance of anything Eric had ever experienced on Earth, but it has to be said he was extremely disappointed with the poor standard of music on offer.

'Hey, if this is what music's like in the rest of the galaxy then I'm glad I was born on Earth, like,' he thought to himself.

Usually Eric preferred an aisle seat, but on this occasion he had specifically requested a window seat, as he figured the chance to gaze out on the stars was too good an opportunity to waste. However, throughout the journey he was somewhat disappointed with the view from the window as the stars looked pretty much like they did on Earth. Brighter perhaps, but not particularly impressive, and Eric was half-regretting not going for the aisle seat.

As they approached Fem though, and began the descent into its atmosphere, he realised he had made the right choice. The descents onto Fyra and Pokar Dix had been impressive, but Fem reminded Eric of Earth with its blue oceans and green land masses, and for some reason that made this descent even more impressive.

'Flip! This is class, like!' he thought to himself, as a big smile beamed from his face. 'I'm almost even a little bit glad the Femlings decided to be crazy radjee planetocidal maniacs, cos if they hadn't then I wouldn't have got to experience all this.' This was a blatant case of self-deceit because Eric clearly wasn't a little bit glad. He was a _lot_ glad. He was absolutely loving his adventure so far. In fact as he stepped off the shuttle and headed towards customs and immigration he noticed that his cheeks were sore from smiling too much.

'I'd better tone my smile down a little bit,' he thought to himself, 'just in case immigration think I'm a daft simpleton.' He adjusted the degree of his smile to a more chilled out level. 'Actually... no. There's no law against simpletons going through immigration,' he thought to himself, and he let his smile expand once again to its natural cheek pain inducing level. 'Although, actually... I don't know the law on Fem so mebbees they might have anti-simpleton laws here.' He suppressed his smile once again.

As it turned out Fem had no laws against simpletons passing through immigration, as long as they possessed the appropriate documents, and so Eric passed through immigration without any hassles. Not that it would have made any difference if they _did_ have anti-simpleton laws, because Eric wasn't a simpleton... just to clarify.

'I'm here!' he thought to himself, as he headed to the spaceport magnapod station. In some ways the magnapods on Fem were more impressive than the magnapods on Pokar Dix. They were fitted with anti-gravity stabilisation fields which meant there was no need to be strapped in, but in a strange way this made the journey _less_ impressive. The journey was so smooth that you could almost have been sitting in a library. There was no sensation of speed like there was on the magnapods on Pokar Dix and Eric couldn't help but be reminded of the shinkansen in Japan. That travelled at almost two hundred miles per hour but because the Japanese were so brilliant at designing high-tech trains and ultra-smooth tracks, you hardly even noticed you were moving.

'It's a pity the shinkansen wasn't built in England,' Eric thought to himself. 'Then you would have noticed how fast you were going.'

Anyway, a few seconds later Eric had arrived at Sumai City Central Magnapod Station and within a minute or so he emerged from the station into the busy city. All the travelling had left him mentally tired and ready for a good sleep, so he checked into the first cheap hotel he could find and hit the sack.

And as he lay there and drifted off to sleep, he once again found himself reflecting upon his significance and importance with respect to the future of life on Earth. 'Flip! It's actually going to plan!' he thought to himself. 'Flip! I actually could be the dude that saves mankind from extinction!'

But there were still many more twists and turns lying ahead waiting for Eric in his quest to become the dude that saved mankind from extinction.

Chapter Two – Everything Will Be Okay In The End

The next couple of days went pretty smoothly, with Eric firstly assessing Femling fashion trends, then adding his own sense of style to his assessment, and then finally purchasing himself several outfits.

There was one instance when he became rather hassled at an overly pushy saleswoman who was trying to persuade him to buy an over-priced designer t-shirt but other than that it was all relatively hassle-free shopping. What annoyed Eric even more about the pushy saleswoman was that, by the way she was dressed, she clearly didn't have a clue about fashion. 'Here, if I was gonna ask someone for fashion tips, you'd be the last person I'd be asking,' he thought to himself. 'Not that I'd ever be wanting to ask anyone for fashion tips in any case cos I've got such an inflated sense of my own sharp appreciation of style that I generally disregard the opinions of others,' he added to himself, and a smirk appeared on his face.

He thought that it might possibly sound a bit cheeky if he actually voiced his thoughts to the saleswoman, however, so instead he gave her his speech about how expensive designer labels were a fashion crutch used by people who didn't actually know how to dress well and therefore needed the reassurance of a high price tag. When this failed to diminish the saleswoman's enthusiasm for the overpriced t-shirt Eric simply remarked, "Nar, it's rubbish," and that seemed to have the desired effect.

When he had finished assembling his wardrobe Eric was overall pretty pleased with his purchases, although not one hundred percent satisfied, but he told himself this was a good thing because if you ever become one hundred percent satisfied with your wardrobe you run the risk of getting comfortable and not upgrading when the latest trends inevitably move on six months down the line.

There was one t-shirt in particular that he was particularly pleased with which had the slogan, 'Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end,' printed on it. Eric reckoned it was entirely likely that there would be times when his mission wouldn't be going exactly to plan and during those times the t-shirt would ensure he stayed determined and motivated, and therefore the t-shirt was an essential purchase. And besides, perhaps more importantly, it had a really cool pattern on the front which extended onto the right shoulder and looked really sharp.

Once his clothing purchases were completed Eric didn't waste another second and caught the first magnapod down to Ko Pagna. He was a bit disappointed when he took his seat and found himself sat opposite a mad old bloke who was keen to engage in a conversation as to whether celery or carrots were the best addition to a cheese sandwich, but the journey only lasted less than two minutes so Eric didn't have to put up with the annoying old bloke's patter for very long before he was quickly at his destination.

As he emerged from the magnapod station at the other end of his journey, the sun was beating down gloriously on a typically scorchingly hot day on Ko Pagna and another one of those smiles that hurt his cheeks appeared on Eric's face.

'Ah... class!' he thought to himself. 'What a total fluke I am!'

He quickly booked himself into the Sunny Heaven Beach Resort which seemed to be very strongly recommended when he was doing his research on the Galactic Information Network, and then headed straight down to the beach.

'Ah... yes! What a double fluke I am!' he thought to himself as he took in the lushness of his surroundings. Back on Earth, Eric had been to many of the best beaches in the world and this was easily a match for any of them. Not least because there seemed to be a considerably high quantity of totally fit lasses sunbathing on it. 'Hey, Jixyl and Azleev were right about there being a total load of cream on Fem, like," Eric thought to himself.

So he quickly found himself a nice spot on the beach and spent the afternoon listening to his ts4 player whilst enjoying the sunshine. Then after a few hours of sunbathing he went to get himself something to eat and was pleased to discover that the food on Ko Pagna was superb. Then as the evening arrived he finished off the day by heading down to the clubs on the beach. Whilst the music wasn't up to the standard Eric had been used to on Earth, it was still considerably better than the music on the in-flight entertainment system which was a big relief to Eric. And as an added bonus, one of the clubs, known as The Hang Out Club, had a podium outside it on the beach for diquintenoled party lovers to dance on.

Eric was especially chuffed about this discovery as in his opinion dancing on a dance floor versus dancing on a podium was like watching video versus watching DVD. Once you had danced once on a podium, dancing on a dance floor again was never quite the same. So he rounded off the night with an hour or so of podium dancing before returning to his hotel room.

Then as he lay down to reflect on his first day in Ko Pagna he realised that since arriving in Ko Pagna he hadn't even thought for a single moment about his mission. The trouble was he was just too excited about being here to worry about trivial stuff like the possible extinction of the human race or anything insignificant like that.

'And besides, I'm entitled to one day to just chill out and relax,' he told himself as he fell asleep.

But the trouble is, a day of chilling and relaxing is a very enjoyable pastime. So enjoyable in fact, that it can easily become _two_ days of chilling and relaxing. And that in turn can easily become three...

Chapter Three – Sniffless Times

Eric's second day on Ko Pagna followed a pretty much identical pattern to his first day, with the exception that as he fell asleep this time he told himself, 'I don't want to dive straight into things. I need time to suss everything out first.'

Eric's third day was once again very similar to the first two days with the exception that as he went to sleep this time he told himself, 'I need to formulate a plan and strategy before I start putting the mission into practise.'

The fourth, fifth and sixth days were pretty different, though. Whilst walking along the beach on the morning of day four Eric noticed that a Beach Soccer Tournament was being held in Ko Pagna. So, being a big football fan, Eric signed up straight away and was fairly pleased that his team made it to the quarter-finals, although he was certain the goal that knocked them out should have been disallowed for a handball earlier in the move. He realised that playing beach soccer wasn't _strictly_ the reason why he had been sent to Fem, but he justified it to himself once again by telling himself that he was only doing the things that made him happy, and happy people are more attractive and therefore have more chance of scoring, and therefore it was essential that he indulged himself in all the things he loved doing. Besides, he had now met some new people and it was always easier to score when you went out with a group of friends.

The seventh and eighth days involved more sunbathing, more listening to tunes on his ts4 player, more lush food and more heading down to the clubs on the beach on the night-time with his new beach soccer team-mates to get diquintenoled up (or not, in Eric's case). Sadly though, they didn't involve snogging any Femling lasses.

When Eric checked his A.T.S. account on the ninth day he noticed he had received quite a few messages.

The one from Monty read:

' _Alright, how's it going? Scored with any fit alien lasses yet?'_

To which Eric replied:

' _Alright, I'm having a class time, like. Honestly, you should see the beach. It wops off any beach on Earth, like. And the clubs are pretty good as well. Wasn't too sure about the music at first but it's starting to grow on uz now._

Entered a Beach Soccer Tournament the other day and went out in the quarter-finals cos we had a dodgy ref (so as you can see, it's canny similar to football on Earth).

Haven't snogged any lasses yet, though. I reckon I'm probably not going to either cos I'm a total bottler without alcohol. So if you've got any savings in the bank it's probably best to get them spent over the next year or so, cos I reckon everyone on Earth's gonna die, like.

Anyway, I'm off down the beach to catch some rays so speak to you later.

Eric.'

The message from Garth was pretty similar, as was Eric's reply. The message from Jixyl read:

' _How's it going on Fem? Have you snogged any lasses yet?'_

To which Eric replied:

' _Haven't managed to snog any lasses yet. I'm just sort of settling in at the moment and sussing things out before I start putting my strategies into practise.'_

In reality Eric had lost all confidence and pretty much given up on the mission but he figured it would be inconsiderate to tell Jixyl this, after all the trouble he and Azleev had gone to, so that was why he decided to give his reply to Jixyl a more optimistic tone than the messages he sent to Monty and Garth. Besides, if Jixyl thought that Eric had given up on the mission then he and Azleev might decide to stop putting funds into his credit account.

The final message, from Azleev, read:

' _You need to keep us updated more regularly. It's been over a week now. What's going on? How are things going with the mission? Are you making any progress?'_

To which Eric replied:

' _Soz, there was a big problem with the G.I.N. access here for a few days while they were updating their network. It seems to be working okay today though, so hopefully it'll be okay from now on and I'll be able to keep you updated more regularly.'_

This was of course a blatant lie. The G.I.N. access had been fine and it was just a simple case of Eric being too busy enjoying himself to worry about trivial little things like keeping up-to-date with his A.T.S. messages.

Eric continued:

' _Anyway, I haven't snogged any Femling lasses yet. Just been getting a feel for the place. I feel pretty vibed in now though, so I'm gonna be putting my moves to good use over the next few days.'_

As previously mentioned, this wasn't strictly true either. Eric had pretty much given up on the goal of scoring. It wasn't that he didn't want to. Some of the lasses in Ko Pagna, particularly the Sveltish ones, were extremely fit and would be any red-blooded male's dream. It was just that he couldn't see it happening and had therefore lost interest and decided instead to just focus on having a good time.

Basically, it seemed to Eric that the universe had a conspiracy against him at the moment. Not in respect of general life – his general life was totally class – but in respect of scoring. It was a similar story back on Earth. It seemed to Eric that he didn't seem to have much say in when he scored. There were times when he would put in loads of effort and blatantly be on the pull, but not get so much as a sniff. Then there were other times when he wouldn't put in any effort at all and yet all the pieces would just seem to fall into place and before he knew it he just seemed to have scored out of nowhere. Sadly, back on Earth the 'sniffless' times seemed to be far more common than the 'everything falls into place' times and it looked like it was going to be a similar story here on Fem.

Right now he seemed to be right in the middle of a 'not so much as a sniff' sort of a time, which is why he had all but given up on the mission. 'You can't beat the will of the universe,' he told himself.

But when he received another A.T.S. message from Garth his attitude couldn't help but change ever so slightly in the favour of optimism.

Garth's message read:

' _I know what you mean about not having the bottle without alcohol, mate, but keep the faith. Sometimes the universe has a funny way of helping you out when you need it and all the pieces just seem to fall into place._

Garth.'

A smile appeared on Eric's face as he read Garth's message. Not a cheek-pain inducing smile like the one he experienced on the shuttle. This was more of a wise, reflective, ponderous smile.

'It's funny how I was just thinking stuff about how sometimes the universe seems to decide stuff for you, and then Garth goes and says the exact same thing,' he thought to himself. 'Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.'

And so as Eric logged out of his A.T.S. account, there was a noticeably greater spring of optimism in his step. A spring of optimism which reflected Eric's newly rediscovered confidence and positive outlook.

'If the universe is trying to tell me something, then I'm certainly going to listen,' he told himself. 'Especially if it's trying to tell uz some tips on how to increase my chances of scoring.'

And so later that evening when Eric headed down to The Hang Out Club to meet his new beach soccer mates, he did so with his ears and eyes wide open, fully prepared to listen out for the advice of the universe.

Chapter Four – Same Same But Different

Since meeting his new beach soccer mates, Eric had wasted no time at all in introducing them to the game of 'Would You Rather?' And happily for Eric they seemed to share his appreciation of the game, so that night when they met up at The Hang Out Club he quickly initiated another scenario.

"Right, I've got one for you," he remarked to Kesta, one of his new Femling mates. "Would you rather have a night of fun and frolics with a nine out of ten, or have a threesome with two seven out of tens?"

"You've got to go for the threesome," Kesta answered, his tone of voice suggesting it was a stupid question.

"Aye, I would as well," Eric agreed.

Eric and Kesta's heads turned to Hex, another of Eric's team-mates from the Beach Soccer Tournament. "I think I'd probably go for the nine out of ten," Hex remarked.

"Eh? You're the first person I've ever heard that's gone for the nine out of ten, like," Eric revealed.

"Yeah, how often do you get the chance of a threesome?" Kesta asked, rhetorically.

"Never ... alas," Eric reflected, with a sigh.

"You see, I've had a threesome, though," Hex bragged, although to be fair he wasn't bragging. He was merely stating a fact that was relevant to the discussion. Although admittedly, it was a fact he thoroughly enjoyed revealing whenever the opportunity presented itself. "And it was good and all that, but it had its drawbacks as well."

"Like what?" Eric quizzed.

"Well for starters, it wasn't with two sevens. Two sevens would have been excellent but it was an eight and a six. And that made it really awkward.

Cos it's sort of like if you have two cats and you stroke one cat the other cat gets jealous. So then you stroke the other cat and then the first cat gives you a hacky look as if to say, 'You like her more than me, don't you? She got a longer stroke than me,' so you stroke the first cat again. And then the second cat gives you a look as if to say, 'How come she got two strokes and I only got one stroke?' So you end up totally stressing about giving them equal attention."

"I didn't realise you were Dr Doolittle, like, Hex," Kesta joked.

"You see that wouldn't be a problem for me," Eric interjected, "cos whenever I score I'm just in it for myself. I wouldn't care if they were getting equal attention or not. You're just not selfish enough, Hex. That's your problem."

"My selfless attitude has been earning uz a lot of success over the last few days, though," Hex pointed out. Once again Hex may have sounded as if he was bragging. But once again he was merely making a valid point that was relevant to the discussion. Albeit a point that he took a great deal of pleasure in highlighting.

"Aye, hopefully some of that success will spread to me tonight," Eric replied, optimistically. He still had the spring in his step from earlier that evening. In fact he had more than a spring in his step. He had more or less convinced himself that the universe was going to sort things out for him tonight and that, just like Garth had suggested, all the pieces would just fall into place and he would score without even trying. Basically, Eric was convinced that tonight was the night when his mission to save the Earth would finally roll into action.

In fact he was so confident that later in the evening when he found himself dancing on a podium next to a pretty fit lass that was smiling at him, Eric didn't bottle it like he normally would when he was sober. Neither did he clumsily dive in too quickly like he sometimes would if he was drunk. Instead, he just smiled confidently back and carried on coolly dancing, calm and relaxed in the knowledge that the universe would fit everything into place.

On reflection, however, perhaps he played things a little bit _too_ coolly because after a couple of songs the lass assumed he wasn't interested and went off to dance somewhere else.

Eric wasn't bothered, though. He felt safe and smug in the knowledge that the universe would sort things out for him.

By the end of the night, however, Eric still hadn't snogged any lasses and as he waited in the queue at Mr.J's, the popular late night takeaway joint on Ko Pagna, he couldn't help thinking that perhaps the universe could do with a prod or a wake-up call to get it to hurry itself up and get things kick-started.

But then Eric suddenly became full of optimism once again. And the reason for his newly rediscovered optimism stood a few metres to the side of him in the form of a coolly fit lass looking in his direction. He didn't have eyes in the side of his head obviously, but it was one of those occasions when you can just sense someone looking at you.

So Eric turned to glance in the lass's direction and as he did so she drunkenly stumbled towards him and bumped into his back, then rested her hand on his shoulder.

'Ar, class!' Eric thought. 'This is it! This is the universe working its magic!' His eyes lit up. 'And she's canny drunk as well so she'll have no inhibitions!' he thought, before quickly adding as an afterthought to himself, 'Ar, I mean... not that that matters, like. Cos I only need to snog her.' He was aware that she probably wasn't quite as drunk as she was pretending, and that she was simply employing a technique used by numerous chav lasses back in England whereby they pretend to drunkenly stumble into a dude that they like the look of in the hope of initiating a conversation, but that didn't bother Eric. In fact if anything it only made him even more chuffed as it only increased the likelihood that he was definitely in.

"You look like you've had a good night," Eric commented.

"Yes, but I think I've also had too much to drink," the pretend drunken lass replied.

"You can never have too much to drink," Eric joked, and the lass smiled.

"What have you ordered?" she inquired.

"I've gone for the chork sandwich," Eric revealed. "You should get one as well, like." Chork was a meat that tasted like a cross between chicken and pork. Of course, on Fem they didn't call it chork. In fact it had a name that sounded nothing like either chicken _or_ pork. But the artificial logic in the G.O.T. programming decided it made sense to assign it a name that Eric would easily identify with, hence it had arrived at the name 'chork'.

"Are they good?" the pretend drunken lass inquired.

"Ar, they're lush," Eric enthused. "Mr.J's make the best chork sandwiches in Ko Pagna."

"Then maybe I'll go for one also," the pretend drunken lass replied. "Or maybe I'll go for same same but different." 'Same same but different' was a saying that was used quite frequently on Ko Pagna which Eric hadn't quite grasped the exact meaning of yet.

"What's 'same same but different' actually mean?" he inquired.

"It means it's the same but also different, but not actually different because it's the same," the pretend drunken lass replied. Eric wondered if she wasn't actually pretending to be drunk after all and if she was actually genuinely drunk.

Within a couple of minutes Eric's chork sandwich arrived.

"Don't go," the pretend (or possibly actually) drunken lass requested, as Eric was about to walk off with his sandwich.

'Ar, class!' Eric thought to himself. 'She's a cling-on! That means I'm definitely in!' Eric was always attracted to cling-ons. Not long term cling-ons obviously, but when he was on the pull, Eric, like most dudes, found a sense of neediness both encouraging and reassuring.

"It's alright. I'll wait until you get your sandwich as well," he remarked, before adding, "So anyway, where are you from?"

"I'm from Nedland," the needy lass replied.

Eric had already suspected this from her accent but it was nice to have it confirmed. 'Ar, class!' he thought to himself. 'That's perfect!' Since arriving on Ko Pagna Eric, like most dudes, had formed a top three of Femling nationalities, and whilst Sveltish was obviously his number one, Nedlandish was definitely his number two. He just tended to find that Nedlandish lasses were more honest and direct than other lasses and didn't play games. And whilst he would obviously prefer to score with his number one choice of nationality, unfortunately Sveltish lasses always made him nervous and flustered, by virtue of their total and utter complete lushness and their high status, so if he was playing the percentage game, which he was, then a Nedlandish lass represented a much greater chance of success than a Sveltish lass.

Within a couple of minutes the Nedlandish lass's chork sandwich arrived and so Eric suggested, "Shall we find somewhere to sit?" Inside Mr.J's were three tables and during his period of sussing things out Eric had decided that sitting at one of these tables would present a good chance to initiate a scoring opportunity. He reckoned they were the equivalent of a late night taxi queue back on Earth.

"Yes, somewhere with less people," the Nedlandish lass agreed.

So Eric quickly made his way around the food stalls through the gatherings of people and inside Mr.J's to one of the tables.

But then as he took his seat he turned around to discover that the Nedlandish lass seemed to have vanished. 'Ar, man. Where's she gone?' he thought to himself. He wasn't initially overly concerned, however, because despite her drunkenness he assumed she couldn't have gone too far astray and he would therefore quickly catch sight of her once again.

But unfortunately for Eric, he scanned the crowds of people to find that she was nowhere to be seen. 'Ar, fuck! I've blown it,' he thought. Messing up a perceived potential score was one of the few scenarios that pushed Eric past the realms of remarking 'Flip!' and into the realms of fully entrenched swearing. 'Ar, fuck!' he repeated to himself. 'Why did I walk so quickly?' Eric had a habit of dashing off and walking too quickly and becoming separated from his friends. With his friends though, it wasn't such a big deal, but with a fit Nedlandish lass it was totally annoying. 'Ar, hey! I knew she was drunk. I should have walked slowly and held her hand or something so we didn't get split up. Ar, what a total muppet I am!'

Eric was right. He _was_ a total muppet. He took as long as he could to finish his chork sandwich in the vain hope that she would eventually find him, but his hopes remained unfulfilled. So after he took his last bite of sandwich he headed home alone.

'Ar, fuck! I can't believe I've messed up the chance of a potential score,' he thought to himself, as he lay down for the night. 'Ar, man! I'm totally useless. Ar, rubbish. Why did _I_ get stuck with this mission? Of all the people that could save the Earth, the responsibility had to be given to a total feebloid like me.' Messing up a good chance (at anything, not just scoring) always left Eric feeling negative, but the added responsibility of saving the Earth meant that on this occasion he was doubly negative. 'Ar, hey! I can't believe my total utter rubbishness, like. I'm a proper useless chump. How am I meant to save the Earth when I can't even get past the first simple stage like sitting down without dashing off and losing her?' Eric was generally an optimistic person but right at that moment he was feeling totally and utterly dejected. Barely an ounce of optimism remained in his body.

But then as he gazed around his room he noticed one of his t-shirts hanging over the balcony to dry. The one with the slogan, 'Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.'

A reluctant smile forced itself onto Eric's face. "It's not the end," he told himself, speaking out loud. "Everything is most definitely certainly not okay – what with the human race probably gonna get obliterated thanks to me being a total feebloid and all that – so that means it's not the end. So that means there's no need to feel gutted." He smiled once again to himself, this time not so reluctantly. "Things will be okay in the end. After all, the t-shirt wouldn't lie."

Then he looked at his t-shirt once again. "I hope you're right, t-shirt," he mused. "I hope you're right."

Chapter Five – The Catch-22 Solution

Eric had given it another couple of days at trying to score, before deciding that he was too nervous and would have more chance of scoring if he was more relaxed, and the best way in his opinion of being relaxed was to not be on the pull. Obviously the drawback to this strategy was that when you're not on the pull you don't tend to pull, hence the expression 'not on the pull', but at this stage of things it was all about getting into the right frame of mind.

Hex had continued his form by scoring three times in the last week, and whilst this wasn't an exceptional record it was nevertheless more than respectable, and therefore Eric reckoned it made sense to model his approach on Hex's. And the biggest thing that stood out about Hex was how relaxed he was.

So that was what inspired Eric to forget the mission and stop being on the pull. Hex scored on a regular basis and Hex was always really relaxed and cool with lasses, so if Eric wanted to start scoring he decided he needed to be more like Hex, which meant being more relaxed, which in turn meant not being on the pull. It was a catch-22 solution, of course, but Eric told himself he'd adapt the plan later, once he had put the first stage into place.

Of course back on Earth, Eric's answer to his nervousness would have been to get really drunk. Talking to lasses when he was drunk was never a problem. Coming out with gormless drunken patter and acting like a drunken fool was sometimes a problem, in fact _frequently_ a problem, but by the law of averages he would always occasionally come out with some moderately okay patter, which would be enough.

But here on Fem, with his unfortunate immunity to the effects of diquintenol, getting intoxicated wasn't an option. This was a fact that Eric had hidden from his new Femling mates, for obvious reasons.

"Aye, so Eric, you have to get DQed up tonight, like," Zonny cajoled. Zonny was another of Eric's team-mates from the Beach Soccer Tournament. "It's my last night. You can't stay sober on my last night." Eric and his beach soccer mates were currently hanging out once again at The Hang Out Club, which had quickly become Eric's favourite club on Ko Pagna Beach.

"Aye, you have to have a few beverages tonight, like," Kesta encouraged.

"I wish I could," Eric reflected, "but there's no point."

"What d'you mean?" Zonny inquired, looking confused.

Eric suddenly realised that his comment was close to blowing his cover. "Ar, it's just that, like... well, er..." He frantically racked his brains to come up with a way to explain away his careless remark. "Just, like... I can, er... proper take my drink much better than yous weaklings, so even if I had ten drinks I'd probably still be totally sober... what with uz being dead hard and all that compared to yous," he boasted, thinking on his feet. He said all this with a jokey expression on his face and he was pleased that he seemed to have dug himself out of the hole he had nearly gotten himself into.

"Have you heard him?" Zonny retorted. "You haven't had a single drink the whole time you've been here and yet you're bragging about your drinking capabilities."

"Aye, if you're such a hardened drinker then prove it tonight," Kesta challenged. "Howay, man. It's Zonny's last night, man. You can't stay sober again on Zonny's last night."

Eric wasn't enjoying his non-drinking being under the spotlight and therefore decided to use diversionary tactics.

"Right anyway, I've got one for yous," he began, "you're going back with a really fit lass to her room one night, but then she says, 'There's just one condition... you can only use your tongue or your hands.' What would you pick?"

Zonny, Kesta and Hex looked at each other for a few stunned seconds, before breaking out into surprised chuckles. "Hey, you're weird, you, Eric," Kesta remarked, smiling and shaking his head.

"What d'you mean?" Eric replied, defensively. "What's wrong with that? It's a perfectly normal question to ask." He put on the demeanour of someone who was affronted at being called weird, but in reality he was quite pleased that his question had had the desired effect and his Femling mates had been successfully distracted from their attempts to get him to join in with the DQ drinking.

"Ar, yeah. The old 'tongue or hands' dilemma," Kesta grinned. "That old chestnut. Yeah, many the time I've been going back with a lass and she's said, 'Right, here's the thing... you can only use your tongue or your hands. What's it to be?'"

Zonny and Hex laughed at Kesta's irony, and Eric also allowed himself a begrudged smirk.

"Well you never know... It's always best to be prepared," Eric insisted, jokingly. "I'd hate to find myself in that position one night only to think, 'Ar, no. If only I'd considered this earlier, rather than have to make a snap on-the-spot decision.'"

"Eric, man. How likely is it that a lass is gonna get you back to her room and then say, 'Right, you can only use your tongue or your hands?'" Kesta asked.

"Well, not very," Eric admitted, "but the point of the 'Would You Rather?' game isn't to come up with realistic scenarios. It's to come up with interesting dilemmas. It doesn't have to be realistic otherwise in my case I would have asked, 'Would you rather get bombed out by a Sveltish lass or a Nedlandish lass?'" To be fair, Eric's biggest problem since arriving on Fem wasn't getting bombed out. It was being a total bottler.

"Well what does it matter?" Kesta inquired. "If you're getting bombed out then either way, you're getting no action."

"I'd rather get bombed out by a Sveltish lass," Hex commented, "cos I've obviously been with a few Sveltish lasses before, but a potential Nedlandish lass would be a new nationality for the tick-sheet, so therefore a Sveltish knock back would be easier to take."

"Ar, here he goes again," Kesta replied. "'Oo, I've been with a few Sveltish lasses already.' Would you like uz to help support your arms there, Hex?" This last comment probably doesn't make much sense so perhaps I should explain that on Fem they use the expression 'big arms' to mean conceited, rather than 'big head' like we use here on Earth.

"Well I'm just explaining my reason," Hex shrugged.

"I'd rather get bombed out by a Sveltish lass as well," Zonny remarked, "cos it's like if you were gonna get knocked out of the Triple F Cup you'd rather get knocked out by Divington United than Plankton Village. There's no shame in..."

"Eh! Y'pure cheek!" Eric suddenly interrupted. "You can't compare Nedlandish lasses to Plankton Village! That's proper shocking, that! Nedlandish lasses are more like a Woolton Wanderers."

"Yeah, bad example," Zonny acknowledged, "Although I'd say they're more of a Blaydon Toon than a Woolton Wanderers. But anyway, I just meant I'd rather get a knock back from the very best, rather than a knock back from _almost_ the best."

"Blaydon Toon! What a pure cheek!" Eric screeched. "You can't compare Nedlandish lasses to Blaydon Toon!" Eric was quite indignant at what he perceived as a blatant insult to Nedlandish lasses, but at the same time he was also quite flattered by this comparison, as Blaydon Toon was the football team he had naturally been drawn to support on Fem by virtue of the fact that they wore the same black and white stripes as Newcastle United. Realistically though, if he was being objective then Blaydon Toon were a decent but under performing team, and so his anger at Zonny's failure to recognise the high status of Nedlandish lasses was greater than his pleasure at the compliment this comparison was to his favoured football team.

"I thought you supported Blaydon Toon," Hex queried.

"Aye, I do," Eric confirmed, "but that doesn't mean I see them through rose-tinted glasses. They're no Woolton Wanderers... which Nedlandish lasses blatantly are."

"Well I'm entitled to my opinion, like," Zonny shrugged, "and I'd still say Blaydon Toon are a pretty decent team, like."

"Well you must be blatantly mad if you don't realise how lush Nedlandish lasses are, like," Eric opined, rather cheekily.

"Anyway, the relative lushness of Nedlandish lasses wasn't the point I was trying to make," Zonny explained. "I'll put it another way... say if I tried it on with Jerga Nedson and she knocked uz back then I'd be massively offended, cos Jerga Nedson's blatantly in no position to be fussy."

"I'd be massively relieved," Kesta remarked, "not massively offended."

"Well aye, I'd be relieved," Zonny admitted, "but it'd be a massive insult as well."

"What's Jerga Nedson got to do with Nedlandish lasses?" Eric asked, his eyes looking ready to get slightly annoyed again.

"Nothing, man, Eric," Zonny retorted, "but the point I'm making is Jerga Nedson can't afford to be fussy but Sveltish lasses blatantly _can_ afford to be fussy, so if they decided to be fussy with me then I wouldn't be offended. I'd be _disappointed_... but not offended."

"Well Nedlandish lasses can afford to be fussy as well," Eric remarked.

"Well, yeah. Fair point," Zonny admitted, "but Sveltish lasses even more so."

"Aye, fair enough," Eric finally acknowledged. "I see what you're saying, I suppose."

An interesting potential subject for discussion occurred to Kesta at this point. "Aye anyway, that's one we haven't done yet... top three nationalities."

"Do you mean for lasses?" Eric quizzed.

"No, I meant for gross domestic output per capita over the last seven fiscal years," Kesta replied, sarcastically.

Eric smirked. "That was sarcasm, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Very perceptive," Kesta smiled. "Yeah, it was sarcasm. I obviously meant top three nationalities for lasses."

"Well my top two are obviously Sveltish then Nedlandish," Eric confirmed, "and then for my number three I have to say I reckon Nipponese lasses are class as well, like."

"Hmm, I'm not too sure about Nipponese lasses, like," Zonny commented. "They're a bit too weird for me."

"That's partly why I like them," Eric revealed. "I love their fun quirkiness. And obviously they've got class fashion sense as well."

"Ar, obviously," Kesta sarcastically agreed. "That goes without saying."

"Eric, man. What's fashion sense got to do with anything?" Zonny questioned.

"Well I just really fancy lasses that know how to dress well," Eric explained. "Good fashion sense can give a lass an extra twenty percent."

Kesta nodded over towards a lass stood at the bar a few metres away from them. "Oo, look at the fashion sense on her," he joked. "That's got to be worth an extra twenty percent in anyone's book."

Zonny and Hex found this funny but Eric didn't get the joke. "You're joking, aren't you?" he exclaimed. "She's wearing a novelty souvenir t-shirt!"

"Yes, very perceptive once again, Eric," Kesta replied. "I _was_ joking."

"I was gonna say, like," Eric remarked, "cos novelty t-shirts incur a twenty percent penalty. They certainly don't get a bonus."

"Hey, Eric, man. I don't know why you're so fussed about fashion sense, like," Kesta commented.

At this moment a fit lass wearing a skimpy white bikini with a fluffy bunny tail and fluffy bunny ears walked past. "So you're saying you can't appreciate _her_ fashion sense?" Eric queried.

"Well, aye. Obviously I'm extremely in favour of _her_ outfit," Kesta acknowledged, "but that's more to do with the flesh to clothes ratio, rather than her sense of style. Seriously, man. A fit body's what you want. Not smart dress sense."

"Yeah, I'm not denying that a fit body's a factor," Eric agreed, "but a sharp fashion sense is important in the attractiveness stakes as well, like."

"Well it hasn't done you much good, has it?" Zonny joked. This was intended as a cheeky dig at Eric's poor scoring skills, but Eric took it as a hidden compliment and acknowledgement of his sharp fashion sense.

"Anyway, what's _your_ top three, then?" Eric nodded at Zonny, still feeling smug about the hidden compliment.

"Sveltish number one, obviously," Zonny replied, "then probably Oztrasian lasses number two."

"Aye, Oztrasian lasses are excellent, like," Eric agreed.

"Then how come they weren't in your top three, then?" Hex inquired.

"Just cos I just seem to click with them on a purely friendly level," Eric explained. "Like, they generally don't seem to fancy uz... but they're proper sound, like, and they're obviously canny fit as well, so if they ever start fancying uz then they'd have to be a serious contender for my top three."

"Sveltish and Nedlandish lasses don't fancy you either," Kesta pointed out, "but _they_ still made your top three."

Eric couldn't help chuckling at this astute observation. Zonny and Hex also deemed Kesta's remark chuckleworthy.

"Aye, and I'd probably go for Polskan lasses at number three," Zonny concluded. Eric pulled a face. "What's wrong with that, like?" Zonny asked.

"Dodgy fashion sense," Eric replied.

"Eric, man! I don't care about fashion sense," Zonny exclaimed. "I just think Polskan lasses are generally smiley and friendly, and I also like the way they're sometimes a bit needy and desperate."

"Aye just cos they come from a comparatively less rich region of Fem," Eric remarked. "I like needy desperate lasses myself – don't we all – but I like their neediness and desperation to be hormonally motivated, rather than financially motivated."

"As long as they're desperate I don't care why," Zonny replied.

"And obviously I was on about short term neediness," Eric clarified. "I'm not into long term neediness obviously."

It was Kesta's turn next. "Sveltish number one," he quickly confirmed, "then I think I'd have to go for Bralizish lasses as my number two." Eric pulled another face. "Is their fashion sense not good enough for you either, like?" Kesta asked.

"It's partly that, but I'm not that keen on their body language either," Eric answered.

Zonny, Kesta and Hex started laughing, bemusedly. "Hey, you've got some weird criteria, you, like, Eric," Hex smirked.

"I mean, don't get uz wrong... Bralizish lasses tend to have totally fit bodies," Eric continued, "but it's, like, when they walk there's a sort of a wiggle to their walk that I'm not that keen on."

"That's what makes them so sexy, man, Eric," Kesta argued.

"Aye, but it's not very cool," Eric asserted, "and I prefer cool to sexy."

"Well how come you like Sveltish lasses, then?" Hex inquired.

"Cos they're totally lush," Eric pointed out.

"Yeah, but they're totally sexy," Hex declared. "And you were just saying you're not really into sexiness."

"Nar, don't get uz wrong. I like lasses to be sexy," Eric clarified, "but Sveltish lasses are just naturally sexy by virtue of the fact that they're so lush. They don't, like, wear loads of make-up. They don't dress overly sexy. They don't walk with a wiggle, like, as if they want attention. They don't _try_ to be sexy. They just _are_ sexy. They're just so confident and secure in the knowledge that all dudes fancy them that they can afford to be chilled and laidback, and that comes across in their body language. _That's_ what makes Sveltish lasses sexy," Eric opined. "Well... that and their lush fit bodies," he added, as an afterthought. "And their lush good looking faces as well, obviously," he added, as a further afterthought. "And mebbees their lush sexy accents as well."

"So in fact it's not all that patter that you just came out with after all," Zonny observed. "It's just the fact that they're just generally lush."

"Hmm, actually... yeah, mebbees," Eric admitted.

"Anyway, number three is...?" Hex asked, addressing Kesta.

"I'd probably go for Georgish lasses at number three," Kesta announced.

"Oo... controversial," Hex mused.

"What's controversial about that, like?" Kesta asked.

"Just cos I mean... well, yous all come from Georgeland," Hex explained, "and, like, variety is the spice of life and all that. Not 'same old, same old'."

"I know what you're saying," Kesta acknowledged, "but I just think there's a lot of Georgish lasses that rate highly, like."

"Aye, Georgish lasses are excellent as well, like," Eric agreed, before adding, "Well... not the average ones, obviously. The average ones are just average... but the excellent ones are excellent."

"Once again, Eric's perceptiveness reaches never-before-seen levels of insight," Kesta smirked.

"What about the fairly nice ones?" Hex asked.

"Hmm..." Eric pondered, as he considered his assessment of fairly nice Georgish lasses. "Aye, fairly nice ones are fairly nice, like."

Hex was the last to provide his top three nationalities. "Sveltish number one," he stated.

"Oo, controversial," Kesta joked, mirroring Hex's own comment from a few moments earlier. "Picking your own country."

"It's not controversial to pick your own country if you come from Sveltland," Hex explained.

"It'd be controversial _not_ to," Eric added.

"Is that the excellent Sveltish lasses you're talking about or just the average ones?" Kesta queried, sarcastically.

The question was aimed at Hex but it was Eric who answered it. "There's _no_ average Sveltish lasses, like. They're all lush," he declared. "Obviously you've got your three subcategories of lushness, i.e. canny lush, totally lush and totally utterly lush... but most Sveltish lasses fall into the second and third subcategories. The merely canny lush sub-category is comparatively small."

"Yeah, for once Eric you're talking sense there, like," Hex agreed, before adding, "And for my number two I have to say I like Georgish lasses as well."

"You see, I'm not the only one with good taste," Kesta smiled.

"I just think Georgish lasses have got a more up-for-it attitude than a lot of other nationalities," Hex explained, before clarifying, "And I don't just mean that in a pervy way. Like, Georgish lasses just seem to always have a really good sense of fun, you know."

"Aye, they have, like," Kesta agreed.

"I tell you what else I like about Georgish lasses," Eric interjected. "I understand them better than other lasses. When you haven't been travelling you think you don't really understand lasses, and it's not until you go travelling and meet other nationalities that you realise, 'Actually, compared to foreign lasses, I understand Georgish lasses quite well.'

Like, with other lasses I've probably only got about a two percent understanding of what's going on inside their heads. But with Georgish lasses it's maybe as high as... oo, mebbees even two and a half percent." In reality Eric was being harsh on himself, as the true figure was closer to three percent. Maybe even as high as three and a half percent in some cases.

"And at number three I'd be tempted to go for Flindish lasses," Hex concluded, completing the final top three.

"Aye, I have to say, I _do_ like Flindish lasses," Zonny agreed.

"I've never really met any," Eric revealed, "but I'd imagine they're canny nice."

"You imagine correctly," Hex confirmed. A nostalgic look appeared on his face as he added, "The last Flindish lass I met was a bi-curious lesbian."

"Hmm..." Eric pondered. "Actually, that'd make a good idea for a 'Would You Rather?' question. Would you rather score with two bi-curious lesbians or score with two bi-curious heterosexual lasses?"

"It depends who's got the biggest baps," Zonny joked.

"Nar, seriously," Eric replied.

"It _seriously_ depends on who's got the biggest baps," Zonny repeated.

"Well they've all got equally fit bodies," Eric clarified, "but, like, seriously? Are you more bothered about bap size than bap pertness, are you?"

"What can I say? I like big baps," Zonny shrugged.

"You see, I'm more bothered about pertness," Eric replied.

"Yeah, same here," Hex agreed.

"I'm not that fussed about size," Eric continued. "As long as they're not freakishly large or anorexically small then they're fine."

"Just fine?" Kesta smirked.

"Well, nar, obviously they're a lot better than just fine. They're totally excellent," Eric corrected, "but anyway, pertness is my main consideration."

"Don't get uz wrong," Zonny replied, "pertness is an important factor as well, but size is my top priority."

"I can appreciate all sizes," Eric commented, "although I have to admit, slightly bigger baps are better for squeezing and slightly smaller baps are better for sucking."

"You've obviously conducted a lot of research on the matter," Hex suggested.

"Not as much as I'd have liked, alas," Eric admitted. "And I'd say as well... slightly smaller baps are better for fashion purposes. It's easier for a lass to dress really cool if she's got slightly smaller baps."

Zonny, Kesta and Hex just looked at each other open-mouthed in disbelief. It was Hex who eventually spoke. "Hey Eric, sometimes I wonder which planet you come from."

Eric couldn't help giggling at the irony of Hex's unintentionally perceptive comment. He eventually managed to get his giggling fit under control, though.

"Aye, you're spot on there, like, Eric," Kesta sarcastically agreed. "When I scored with that lass with generously proportioned baps the other night, I couldn't help thinking, 'Hey, her outfit's crap, like. If only she had smaller baps.'"

"Well, nar, obviously I don't think like that when I'm horny," Eric explained, "but, like, now when I'm not horny and I can be objective, then smaller baps are definitely better for fashion purposes." He then, however, thought of an example that contradicted what he had just said. "Although actually... that's just a generalisation though, not a hard and fast rule. Cos Appa Hat's baps are a decent size and she's still got totally class fashion sense, like."

"Who's Appa Hat?" Zonny inquired.

"It's this Sveltish lass that Eric's got a total crush on," Kesta revealed.

"I haven't got a crush on her. I just think she's really, really attractive," Eric nit-picked. "And, like, totally cool."

"Sounds like you've got a crush on her to me, like," Hex observed.

"So what's the difference then between having a crush on a lass and thinking she's really attractive?" Kesta inquired.

"Like, for example, to use a footballing example... I reckon Woolton Wanderers are really attractive, but I've got a crush on Blaydon Toon," Eric explained.

"Ar, right. I see what you mean," Kesta replied. "So, like, you're saying Appa Hat's not the fittest lass in Ko Pagna, but she's just your personal object of desire."

"No, I'm saying it the other way round. I'm saying she _is_ the fittest lass in Ko Pagna but I haven't got a crush on her," Eric clarified. "But if I _was_ going to have a crush then it would definitely be on Appa Hat, like, cos I'm a pure glory supporter when it comes to lasses."

"What's she look, like, then?" Hex inquired. "Like, who is she?"

"Well have you seen them two really fit Sveltish lasses that usually stand next to the big screen?" Eric described. "They haven't had them on for a couple of days, but they sometimes wear Appa hats."

"Ar, aye. I think I know who you mean," Zonny replied. "One's blonde and the other one's a brunette."

"Aye," Eric confirmed. "Well the blonde one's Appa Hat and the brunette's Appa Hat's Mate." The four friends had adopted the practise of giving lasses code names, a practise common among all dudes on Ko Pagna, in fact also common on many beach resorts back on Earth.

"Ar, I prefer Appa Hat's Mate," Hex remarked.

"Ar, don't get uz wrong. They're both really fit," Eric acknowledged, "but I'd have to say that Appa Hat's my Blaydon Toon, like." He then quickly corrected himself. "Well... if I was gonna have a crush, like. Which I haven't. So technically I suppose she's my Woolton Wanderers."

"There's no shame in having a crush," Kesta commented. "It happens to us all from time to time."

"Ar, I know," Eric agreed, "but I haven't got a crush so there's no point saying I have when I haven't. I just think she's really fit. Like, she's just got, like, totally lush body language. Like, she just totally exudes confidence and irradiates happiness. Like, she's obviously a really happy confident person."

Hex, Kesta and Zonny were smirking by this point.

"And, like, I love the way she walks," Eric continued. "Like, her walk's got a sort of swagger to it, but not in an arrogant way. Like, you can tell she's got a high opinion of herself but that's just cos she's a good judge of character... not because she's arrogant. Like, she doesn't think she's better than anyone else or anything... even though she blatantly is. Like, her walk sort of says, 'Look at how good I am, but you can also be this good. My level of excellence is achievable by everyone else as well.' But she's just being humble when her walk says that, like, cos her level of excellence is blatantly out of the reach of most people."

"And her walk says all that, does it?" Kesta smiled. "Hey, she's got a very talkative walk, like."

"And when it comes to unnecessary accessories, she's totally the master," Eric continued. "Like I said, her all-round fashion sense is totally excellent but that's one area in particular where she excels... unnecessary accessories."

Kesta nodded at an attractive lass a few metres behind them standing next to one of the podiums. "Oo... look at the accessories on her," he remarked, with mock pervy enthusiasm.

"She's not wearing any accessories," Eric observed.

"I wasn't talking about her fashion sense," Kesta sniggered. Actually, come to think of it, there was probably no 'mock' about Kesta's pervy enthusiasm at all. It was probably genuine pervy enthusiasm masquerading as mock pervy enthusiasm. Anyway, Zonny, Hex and Eric soon shared in the sniggering.

After a few moments of mirthful enjoyment Kesta turned to Eric. "Seriously, though, Eric... it's a bit worrying how you've got this big obsession with fashion sense."

"There's nothing wrong with appreciating a lass that knows how to dress well," Eric defended.

"Yeah, but if you go on about fashion _too_ much, people might think you come across as being a bit gay," Kesta pointed out.

"Shut up, man!" Eric retorted. "How's that like?"

"Well that's just the perception people have of gay dudes," Kesta explained. "That they like their fashion."

"Aye, some gay dudes might," Eric agreed. "I would imagine that some gay dudes mebbees dress as sharp as me, but some of them probably dress like yous two as well," Eric joked, waving his hand at Zonny and Kesta.

"Cheeky git," Kesta muttered.

"And, like, most gay dudes probably like DQ as well," Eric reasoned, "but so do heterosexual dudes as well. Just cos a gay dude likes doing something it doesn't mean a heterosexual dude is gay as well just cos he likes doing the same thing."

"Unless it's bumming other dudes," Kesta pointed out.

"Well, aye. Fair point," Eric acknowledged, with a smirk.

"On the subject of gayness," Kesta commented, "neither of yous have scored since we got here." He raised his eyebrows accusingly.

"Aye, that's a good point, Kesta," Hex smiled, raising his eyebrows also, pretending to agree with the insinuation.

"Aye but not having scored doesn't mean we're gay, like," Eric replied.

"I'm just saying," Kesta remarked, casually, "yous haven't been with a lass since you've been in Ko Pagna." He slowly swung his arm in front of him in the direction of loads of fit lasses dancing as if to say 'behold'. "And it's not as if we're not spoilt for choice. People who didn't know you very well might arrive at a certain conclusion. That's all I'm saying."

"Hey, man. Just cos we haven't scored yet that doesn't mean we're gay," Eric refuted. "It just means in Zonny's case that he's carrying a few extra pounds, and in my case that I'm a total feebloid that keeps bottling it." In actual fact Zonny wasn't the slightest bit overweight. Eric wouldn't have made the joke if he had been. As he regularly pointed out back on Earth, this type of joke was actually a compliment because a sound person (which Eric considered himself to be) would never make an insult which was true, so the fact that he had claimed Zonny was overweight therefore implied that he was actually quite trim.

Eric continued with his reply. "Like, if you look up 'gay' in the dictionary, it won't say 'a dude who's a bit of a pie-eater' and it won't say 'a total feebloid bottler'. It'll say 'a dude that likes bumming other dudes.'"

"Well it probably won't actually say that, like," Hex pointed out. "It'll probably be a bit more politically correct than that. It'll probably say something like 'a man who is attracted to other men in a sexual nature'."

"Aye, mebbees," Eric agreed.

"Anyway, either way I still reckon it's about time you scored," Kesta remarked.

"Either way?" Eric queried. "What d'you mean... either way? I've told you I'm into lasses, man."

"No, man. I didn't mean... Look, forget the 'either way' bit," Kesta explained. "I just mean yous need to get a move on."

"I've told you, I've sort of got a girlfriend back home," Zonny muttered.

"Look, if you were totally serious with a lass then good on you for being loyal and dedicated and all that," Kesta acknowledged, "but if you're just 'sort of seeing a lass' well then you're daft if you don't enjoy yourself while you're here." Kesta turned to Eric. "And _you're_ totally single so you've got no excuse."

"Here, man. I haven't not scored just to spite you, you know," Eric snapped. "I just can't help it, man. I'm just a total bottler. I didn't choose to be a bottler but that's just the way I am."

"That's why I can't understand why you're not into the DQ," Kesta replied. "You need to start drinking, man. I'd be a bottler as well if it wasn't for DQ."

"Aye, but look at Hex," Eric pointed out. "You've scored... is it five times now since you got here, is it, Hex?"

"Six," Hex corrected. "There was that lass in the football strip the other night, remember?"

"Ar, aye. I'd forgotten about her, you fluke," Eric replied, enviously. "But anyway, you don't drink that much and yet you've scored more than the rest of us put together. That's my point. You don't need DQ. It's achievable without it. And you see, I've never scored sober before so it's sort of my ambition."

"You're just making it hard for yourself," Kesta argued. "I'm telling you, get DQed up and you'll score no bother."

Eric looked thoughtful for a moment. "Actually, I'll tell you what I need to do," he announced.

"What?" Kesta inquired.

"Dance more," Eric revealed. "Back on..." He was about to say 'back on Earth' but managed to stop himself just in time. "Back when I had my last good spell, nearly every time I scored it was through dancing. It's so much easier cos you don't need to talk."

"Well we can all dance now, then," Hex suggested, "if you think it'll help."

"Actually, it'll probably be better if _you_ didn't dance, like, Hex," Eric replied.

"Why's that, like?" Hex quizzed.

"Well just cos if you're there then most lasses are probably gonna fancy you and I'm gonna be invisible," Eric reasoned.

"I dunno about that," Hex shrugged. Hex secretly knew that Eric's comment was true though, but he was too polite to boast.

"Aye, shall I not dance either?" Zonny offered.

"Ar, it shouldn't be a problem if _you_ dance," Eric smirked.

"Cheeky git," Zonny retorted.

"Nar, man," Eric apologised. "Actually, I tell you what... why don't yous all go along to The Desert and I'll dance on the podium here for a bit, then meet you at The Desert in half an hour."

"Fair enough," Kesta agreed. "And hopefully, if we don't see you in half an hour then we'll know you've been successful."

"Yeah, so I'll see you in half an hour, then," Eric joked, although he actually wasn't joking, because despite his belief that dancing presented a greater chance of scoring, he still wasn't feeling as confident by now as he had been earlier in the evening. He took a couple of steps towards one of the podiums.

"Em... where are you going?" Kesta inquired.

"To the podium," Eric answered.

"Well why are you going to that one with three dudes on it?" Kesta quizzed. "You should be heading to the other one with the four lasses on it. Unless there's something you're not telling us..."

"You see, _you_ just dive straight in, whereas I always analyse things logically," Eric explained. "Those two lasses at the left are quite shy, so I'm not gonna score with them cos I need an outgoing lass who's gonna make most of the moves. That really fit lass at the end has bombed out about five or six dudes already tonight, and fair enough, most of them were drunken muppets, but the last dude was the type of dude most lasses would go for, so if she wasn't interested in him then she's not on the pull and she just wants to enjoy a night of dancing. And then the other lass in the bikini top has danced with uz a couple of times already on other nights and both times I bottled it, so basically it's not gonna happen now. I've missed my chance with her.

So that podium presents no opportunities for scoring, whereas if any lasses get up on a podium full of dudes then you can be pretty sure that there's at least a small chance that they might possibly be on the pull."

"Whatever, just make sure you score," Kesta shrugged, and he headed along to The Desert with Hex and Zonny.

Eric pulled himself up onto the podium and began dancing as he reflected that one benefit of not getting drunk or DQed up was that at least you could still think things through logically when you were sober.

However, within a song or two a lass had followed him up onto the podium who seemed keen to prove his theory wrong, just to spite him.

One of the other dudes on the podium danced up behind her in that 'pretending to be friendly, but really he's blatantly on the pull' type of a way, and she quickly pulled a face and shuffled away from him. Another of the dudes then tried the same thing, with a similar result.

'I suppose there's always the exception to the rule,' Eric thought to himself, as the lass shuffled to the other side of Eric, using him as a barrier between herself and the two dudes which she apparently found unattractive.

'That just sums up my useless body language,' Eric thought. 'I fancy her just as much as the other dudes and yet she feels comfortable next to me.' The lass smiled at Eric and he smiled back. 'It's typical,' he thought. 'She pulls a face at the other dudes that are on the pull, and yet she doesn't even realise that I'm on the pull so I get a smile. That's how feeble my attempt at having 'on the pull' body language is.'

And then, as if to rub salt into the wound, the lass turned to face Eric and started dancing in front of him. She still wasn't satisfied though, because as if to further highlight just how useless Eric's 'on the pull' body language was, she then danced gradually closer and closer to Eric until before long their bodies were grinding up against each other.

And that was the point when Eric suddenly made an abrupt realisation. 'Flip!' he thought to himself. 'I think she likes uz! I think she wants to get it on!' She was certainly smiling at him in a way which suggested she wanted to get it on. 'Flip! I think this might be it! I think this might be where I finally get to start saving the Earth!'

The next few seconds eliminated any last trace of doubt from Eric's mind. As they were dancing, the lass raised her left leg and wrapped it around Eric's waist. In Eric's experience whenever a lass wrapped her leg around you while you were dancing it generally meant that she was after a snog. In fact, she was generally after quite a bit more than that if Eric was being honest, but for now he was just thinking in terms of his mission.

'Flip!' he thought to himself, as he grabbed the lass's leg to support it. Purely because of the ergonomics of the situation it meant that his right hand was now up her dress and holding the very top of her leg. Then the lass danced and grinded even closer and his hand slid up onto her bum cheek.

'Flip!' he repeated to himself, as the hormones surged through his body. He was aware that they were dancing on a podium in view of hundreds of people and that, given that they were in such a public location, maybe it was impolite to have his hand on her bum cheek.

But on the other hand, he had no choice. If a lass wraps her leg around you, you have to hold it. You can't just leave her hanging. That would be even more impolite than feeling her bum cheek. So Eric decided to continue holding her bum cheek, purely out of politeness.

Then as they kept on grinding against each other the lass smiled a particularly pervy smile at Eric. The sort of smile where the perviness spreads to the eyes. 'Flip!' he thought yet again, as he smiled back. He tried to make it an equally pervy smile but in actual fact it probably looked more nervous than pervy. And whereas usually Eric's nervousness would be hormonally motivated nervousness, on this occasion the nervousness was motivated by an overwhelming sense of responsibility for the survival of the Earth.

Now if most dudes found themselves in Eric's position, namely dancing on a podium with a fit lass, grinding up against each other with your hand up her dress feeling her bum cheek, then I suppose the usual thought going through their heads would go something along the lines of, 'Get in! I'm totally in here!'

The thought that entered Eric's head, however, as they looked into each other's eyes, was slightly different. The thought that entered Eric's head was, 'Hey, I wouldn't have fancied being the pilot that dropped the bomb on Hiroshima, like.' Not the most typical of thoughts, admittedly, but in Eric's defence it wasn't the most typical of situations. Yes, his hormones were surging through his body telling him to hoy the lips on her, but at the same time he couldn't get away from the fact that doing so would unleash world-shattering consequences upon the population of Fem. That was why he felt so much empathy for the A-bomb pilot.

Like, on the one hand nobody wants to drop a bomb which is going to kill a quarter of a million people.

But on the other hand the Japanese were killing and torturing and committing unspeakable evils against millions of innocent people throughout Asia, as well as against thousands of allied forces. And all because they wanted to rule Asia and tough crap on anyone who disagreed with this philosophy. And the pilot knew that if he didn't push his button then the Japanese would carry on killing and torturing, but if he did push his button then the likelihood was that they'd be shocked or frightened into surrendering and the killing and torturing would end. Admittedly, at the cost of a quarter of a million lives, but the alternative was a death figure a lot higher than that. Not to mention the fact that the A-bomb victims would in the majority of cases be gutless cowards that knew that the Japanese master plan was totally evil, but they were too gutless and cowardly to do anything about it. So the pilot knew what he had to do.

But it still couldn't have been an easy thing to do, though. Analysing the maths couldn't have made pushing that button any easier. And Eric was likewise finding it hard to take the final step and hoy the lips on the lass he was dancing with. He knew the Femlings had to die in order to save the Earth, but he wasn't sure if he could personally cope with the enormity of the responsibility.

Sorry to get all heavy and all that, but that's just what went through Eric's head so I'm just telling you what happened. So don't blame me if you're thinking, 'Howay, man! Chill out a bit! I wasn't expecting all this heavy stuff!'

But anyway, you'll be pleased to hear that the thought that went through Eric's head a couple of seconds later wasn't quite so heavy. The thought that went through Eric's head a couple of seconds later was, 'Hey, bums are lush, like!'

If a perfectly toned Olympic athlete's bum was a 'ten' on the 'bum firmness' scale, and a saggy vegetarian's protein-deficient bum was a 'one', then Eric's ideal bum would be an eight. This lass's bum, however, was around about a 'six', and yet it still felt totally lush.

'Hey, it just shows you how lush bums are,' Eric thought to himself. 'Two points away from being a perfect bum and yet it's still totally lush. It just shows you the wide range of lushness that bums have.'

The 'bum firmness' scale's wide range of lushness and the Hiroshima pilot's enormous responsibility battled for thought time in Eric's brain, with neither really emerging victorious.

'Flip!' Eric thought once again. 'You're gonna have to do it soon, otherwise she's gonna lose interest.' And then he detected that she was about to make a move herself so Eric moved his head forward.

But not to kiss her.

He moved his head to the side of her head, so that his right cheek was now against her right cheek. 'This will buy me a few more seconds to contemplate the moral dilemma,' he thought to himself. And as he imagined all the Femlings dead – all eight billion of them – he decided, 'I can't do it. I'm a cowardly bottler as well. Just like most of the Japanese at Hiroshima,' and he was just about to let go of the fit lass's leg and step away from her and jump off the podium.

But then, at the last moment, another thought entered Eric's head, 'Here's an idea... How about you forget about the moral aspect of things for a minute and just snog her because she's totally fit?' It was an idea that held a great deal of appeal to Eric. 'Hmm... I like it. Don't worry about all the moral rights and wrongs of the situation, and just enjoy the physical lushness of getting your perv on with a horny fit lass. Aye, that's a very appealing concept,' Eric thought to himself.

Unfortunately for Eric though, the fit lass had lost patience with his procrastinating and at that moment removed her arms and leg from around his body, then jumped off the podium down onto the beach.

'Ar, fuck!' Eric thought to himself. 'Why didn't I look at things from a purely hormonal point of view earlier? Why did I have to worry about all that moral crap? Ar, fuck! What a gutter!'

It has to be said though, that Eric's disappointment wasn't just because he had missed out on the chance to score with a fit lass. It was also because he had finally contemplated the enormity of the situation he found himself in. Up until then he had sort of seen it all as a bit of a game. Sort of a nice holiday in the sun for a few weeks with a few minor tasks thrown into the mix. Only when he was seconds away from the moment of truth did he finally admit to himself exactly how big this was. So that was probably the main reason why he was gutted. Not just because he had failed to score. Also because he didn't particularly enjoy responsibility.

But responsibility was what he now possessed. In an ideal galaxy the story would end with everyone on Earth living happily ever after in a world of flowers and fluffy kittens and lots of other nice pleasant stuff. And likewise, the people of Fem would also live happily ever after in an equally pleasant world of sunny days at the park and picnics and generally happy smiles all round.

But in reality that wasn't an option. In reality, it was either Earth or Fem. Fem or Earth. One or the other. And the decision rested with Eric.

And for all the Femlings were evil planetocidal maniacs, they were otherwise generally sound people, which only made things so much harder for Eric. It was a bit like in the olden days when there were people who were generally nice people, but they were somehow racist. Not to the point of being violent or anything like that, but still racist nevertheless. It was as if they didn't seem to realise that if you're gonna be a nice person then you can't be racist. Nowadays it's much simpler because nice people aren't racist and racist people are generally totally rubbish in other ways as well. Things are a lot more consistent nowadays. But in the olden days it seemed to slip some people's notice that racism is totally rubbish so if you're gonna be a nice person then you can't be a racist as well. It's either one or the other.

And it was a similar story with the Femlings. They were generally totally sound, notwithstanding the fact that they were evil planetocidal maniacs. It was as if they didn't seem to realise that killing every living species on a planet, just because you deemed their standard of living to be inferior to your own, was a totally snidey thing to do and one which precluded you from being a nice person.

But either way, if the Earth was to be saved then the Femlings had to die. And Eric was the one that held that responsibility. And as he jumped off the podium and headed along to The Desert he realised it was a responsibility he was finding it very hard to cope with.

In fact if he was totally honest with himself, he was seriously beginning to doubt whether he could actually go through with his mission at all.

Chapter Six – Don't Be An Ostrich

The following morning Eric logged into his A.T.S. account and sent Monty and Garth the following message:

' _I don't know if I can do it._

I had the chance to score last night (like, as in a blatant chance, rather than just a half-chance) but I bottled it.

And I didn't 'hormonally' bottle it like I normally do. This time it was the responsibility that I bottled. Like, I suddenly realised that it was me personally that could potentially be responsible for the deaths of eight billion Femlings. And that seemed like such a high number. Like, I worked it out and it's, like, a hundred and fifty thousand St James' Parks. Like... flip! That's purely millions! Actually, it's billions, not millions. Hence the expression... eight billion.

Anyway, I don't know if I can cope with such a high number.

I don't think I can do it.'

Garth sent the following reply back:

' _Ar, no worries. Don't worry about your mates on Earth. We'll just die so that the evil Femlings can live and you don't have to deal with the responsibility._

You just be an ostrich. Stick your head in the ground and pretend everything's okay. No worries. Don't stress about it.'

Monty's reply was as follows:

' _Look Eric, I see what you're saying but you've just got to dig deep and find the courage._

Fair enough, you don't want the responsibility of killing eight billion Femlings, but would you rather have the responsibility of letting seven billion people on Earth die? And the Femlings are evil mentalists whereas the people on Earth that you'd be letting die are all sound innocent people.

Well... mebbees not all innocent. Admittedly there's some crap people on Earth who it'd be no great loss to see the back of, but the majority – say about ninety percent – of people on Earth are totally sound. Not to mention the deaths of all the other species on Earth.

Ask yourself which responsibility would be the hardest to live with? The responsibility for eight billion 'evil mentalist' deaths or the responsibility for 6.3 billion 'totally sound' deaths plus 0.7 billion 'no great loss' deaths?

You know what you have to do.'

Eric's reply was as follows:

' _I tell you what's canny weird, I thought mebbees Monty would be the one to write a totally sarky reply and Garth would be the one to send, like, a totally sensible logical reply, but it turns out I've got yous the wrong way round._

Anyway, don't worry. You don't have to stress. I don't mean 'I can't do it' as in 'I literally can't do it.' I just mean 'I can't do it' as in 'I obviously can do it, and I blatantly am gonna do it, but I just want to have a bit of a whinge about it first.'

Cos, like, it's seriously a massive thing to do, like. I realise it has to be done, and don't worry I am definitely gonna do it, but honestly, it's a really, really hard thing to do, like.

Like, if you imagine a scale of difficulty from one to a hundred then killing everyone on an entire planet would register about four and a half thousand on the scale.

Nar, actually I'm talking like a daft footballer, aren't I, when they go on about giving 'one hundred and ten percent'. Obviously you can't give a hundred and ten percent cos by definition one hundred percent is the maximum you can give. Footballers aren't very good at maths. So soz, I'll stop talking like a footballer and start talking like a mathematician. On a scale of difficulty from one to a hundred this would be a hundred. I can't think of anything harder.

Actually, nar... killing a planet full of innocent people would be harder. I physically couldn't kill a planet full of innocent people. No non-mental person could. So this isn't one hundred on the scale. This is probably about...

In fact, actually... what am I stressing about? Compared to killing a planet full of innocent people this is an absolute doddle. This is probably only about a ten.

Aye, actually this is totally easy. Flip! What was I getting in such a stress for? Like, imagine if I had to kill a planet full of innocent people. Flip! That'd be just totally solid to do.

But I don't. I just have to kill a load of crazy deluded planetocidal maniacs. Fair enough, most of them would be sound if it wasn't for the fact that they're crazy deluded planetocidal maniacs, but nevertheless... that's what they are. Crazy deluded planetocidal maniacs.

So, ar aye. No worries. Aye, I'll do this no bother now, like.'

Eric clicked send and a few moments later his message arrived in Monty and Garth's inboxes.

And at precisely two hours and eleven minutes after that a big smile appeared on Azleev's face as he logged into Eric's A.T.S. account and perused his sent messages folder.

Chapter Seven – 'I Can Now Reveal...'

Several Weeks Earlier:

The Planet Fem,

The Star Maker TV Studio...

A hushed anticipation filled the studio as Keyla Lordim walked on stage with the envelope in her hand. She took a deep theatrical breath and slowly began to open it. Then she removed the sheet of paper from the envelope and glanced down at the sheet, all the time maintaining her perfect poker face.

After a few dramatic seconds she began to speak. "I can now announce that this year's phone vote has broken all previous records with more votes registered than any other show in the history of reality TV." The crowd erupted into cheers. "And thankfully, despite this record number of votes there's been no repeat of the recent 'Fly On The Wall' fiasco." Prior to landing the plum job of Star Maker host, Keyla had been the presenter of Fly On The Wall, before being unceremoniously dumped for flavour of the month Lank Milody. So not surprisingly, she happily jumped at the chance to remind the viewers of the problems Fly On The Wall had encountered when their servers had failed to cope with the enormous number of telephone votes during their final telephone vote decider.

"Yes, you see we place a great deal of importance on the opinions of you the viewers and therefore feel it absolutely essential that we have the systems in place to cope with your votes, however numerous they might be," Keyla continued, taking the opportunity to rub the noses of the Fly On The Wall producers right in it. "Yes, we run a very professional ship over here at Star Maker. And our very professional ship has now produced a winner." The camera zoomed in on the nervous faces of Kel Minky, Kib Lomack and Salu Ortsbo, who were holding hands in a fake show of camaraderie. In reality each of the finalists would gladly have wished seven plagues upon their opponents if it meant they got to be crowned champion of this year's Star Maker.

Keyla stared at the blank sheet of paper she held in her hand. Then she stared at the camera. Then she stared back at her blank sheet of paper. Then she stared back at the camera and began to speak. "I can now reveal that the winner of this year's Star Maker, with more votes recorded than on any other reality TV show in history, is..." She paused long enough to allow the director to cut quickly between the nervous faces of Kel, Kib and Salu, then a quick shot of Sylon's smug face, then back to Keyla, then quickly back to Kel Minky just as Keyla announced, "...Kel Minky!"

The studio audience burst into rapturous applause. Kel placed a surprised expression on her face then quickly followed this up by placing her hands over her open mouth. Sylon Remell tilted his head slightly to one side and placed a neutral contemplative expression on his face, to indicate that he was digesting this piece of information. Brinna Lopco rose from her chair and began enthusiastically clapping. Morse Gralik, the third judge, quickly followed suit. Keyla Lordim placed a sweet innocent expression of joy on her face and began clapping as Kel began walking towards her, her hands still over her mouth, her face still looking surprised as if to humbly say, 'Gosh! Me?'

Then just as she was almost at centre-stage Kel glanced back at her two fellow finalists with a concerned sympathetic look on her face to check that they were okay. Kib and Salu looked back with expressions on their faces that seemed to say, 'Don't worry about us. Just enjoy your moment of glory,' which was quite fortunate cos as it turned out that was exactly what Kel intended to do. She had no intention of worrying about her fellow finalists. And she fully intended to enjoy her moment of glory. But at the same time she obviously didn't want to appear cocky or arrogant and wanted to maintain a sympathetic persona and therefore deemed it appropriate to at least pretend to be concerned for her two competitors.

"How does it feel?" Keyla asked the victorious Kel, once the thunderous applause from the studio audience had finally died down.

"I just... I just can't believe it," Kel stuttered.

"And with more votes than on any other reality TV show on record," Keyla congratulated. The studio audience once again broke out into deafening spontaneous approval.

"I'm stunned," Kel replied, shaking her head.

"Is there anyone you'd like to thank?" Keyla asked.

"There's so many people," Kel replied. "My family and friends who have believed in me right from the start. All the people at home who voted for me..."

"In record numbers," Keyla interrupted.

"Yeah," Kel beamed. "I can't believe it." She shook her head once again to highlight her disbelief. "And also the judges for all the valuable advice they've given me along the way." Kel secretly didn't actually think that highly of the judges' advice, and therefore wasn't actually that grateful to them. Furthermore, she realised that sucking up to them wasn't really that important anymore now that she had actually won the competition, but she just got carried away in the moment. "And I'd also like to thank you Keyla on behalf of all the contestants for being so supportive at every step of the competition. It's quite an emotional roller-coaster being part of this amazing programme and it's great to have someone there for you through the highs and lows, not just when the cameras are rolling but also backstage and off-camera."

This was actually true gratitude. Keyla was the perfect big sister type figure to be there to comfort the contestants when they were feeling down, or to share in their joy when they were on a high.

Keyla looked quite choked by Kel's speech so she quickly moved on to one last final pre-planned dig at her ex-employers. "And perhaps you'd also like to thank the technical boffins behind the scenes for ensuring that the systems were in place to cope with the record number of votes you received and that the voting system didn't crash like on certain other programmes we could mention?" Even at such an emotional moment Keyla couldn't resist getting in another jibe at her former employers.

"Yeah, them as well," Kel smiled.

And so, thanks to the record number of viewers that voted for her, and just as importantly, as Keyla had already pointed out several times already, thanks to the technical boffins behind the scenes that ensured everything ran smoothly and that all the phone votes were registered successfully, Kel was crowned the Star Maker champion.

Chapter Eight – Five Fingered Freaks

Planet Fyra,

Jixyl's student quarters...

Jixyl answered the door to be greeted by a smug looking Azleev.

"What are you looking so happy about?" Jixyl asked. Jixyl was right. Azleev did indeed look happy. _Extremely_ happy.

"The success of the mission," Azleev proudly declared, as he strolled into Jixyl's sitting room and sat himself down.

"You mean... Eric's finally...?" Jixyl quizzed, hopefully.

"Yep," Azleev nodded.

"Yes!!!" Jixyl exclaimed in a burst of delight. "Yes!!!" he repeated, as he punched the air in celebration. "Get in! We've done it! Yes! We've finally done it!"

Azleev placed his hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair and let out a contented sigh of satisfaction.

"So how many lasses has he snogged, then?" Jixyl inquired. "Is it just the one for now, is it?"

"Ar... he hasn't actually done any snogging yet," Azleev confessed.

Jixyl looked a little confused. "So in what context exactly were you talking about 'the success of the mission'? Were you talking in the sense of 'not success at all', were you?"

"No, but..." Azleev tried to explain.

"Ar, hang on. I think I know where the confusion's arisen," Jixyl interrupted. "You see, I was using the word 'success' to mean 'success', whereas you were using the word 'success' to mean 'failure'. Aye, that's where we've got our wires crossed. It's an easy mistake to make."

"If you let uz finish," Azleev remonstrated, "instead of interrupting like a sarky nowt, I would have explained that he's sent Monty and Garth an A.T.S. message saying he's finally come to terms with the whole 'Oh, I don't want to be responsible for the deaths of eight billion people' thing. He's totally focussed and confident now. It's only a matter of time now. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if he snogs about five lasses tonight.

Here, look. Read his message."

So Jixyl read Eric's message and he begrudgingly had to admit that he could understand Azleev's optimism. "Aye, I suppose I have to admit that sounds quite promising," he shrugged.

"You see. I _was_ using the word 'success' to mean 'success'," Azleev remarked.

"Well, _potential_ success," Jixyl nit-picked.

" _Probable_ success," Azleev opined. " _Very_ probable success. In fact almost inevitable now, I'd say."

"Well, yeah... probably," Jixyl admitted, before then switching to a more self-promoting mood. "You see, I told you Eric was the right choice," he boasted. "You wanted to go with that Martin Thistlewaite."

"Yeah... in the very beginning," Azleev countered, "but not once we'd done our recon work. At the end I wanted to use that Doug Simonson dude. If we'd used him he'd have snogged at least twenty lasses by now."

"Maybe," Jixyl admitted, "but he'd probably have cottoned on to our scam by now. It had to be someone gullible and foolish like Eric. That was the number one priority."

"Yeah, anyway. Whatever," Azleev shrugged. "That doesn't matter now. All that matters is that all our hard work is finally about to pay off." A big self-satisfied grin appeared on his face. Moments later a very similar expression appeared on Jixyl's face.

"Yep. Those five fingered freaks are finally gonna get what they deserve," Jixyl beamed.

"Yeah, it's finally going to happen," Azleev nodded, before adding, "Anyway, what do you say to a few quiet beers to celebrate?"

"That sounds like a quality plan," Jixyl agreed, with almost as much enthusiasm for this 'few celebratory beers' plan as he had for their 'let's kill all eight billion Femlings' plan. So they headed into town and true to their word began enjoying a few celebratory beers.

"It's just a pity Stymer is away for the weekend," Jixyl remarked, as he took a gulp of his fifth 0.87641739 of a pint. "It would've been nice if he'd been here to celebrate as well."

"Yeah... to Stymer!" Azleev toasted, as he raised his drink.

"To Stymer!" Jixyl repeated, as he clinked his glass against Azleev's. "And to me."

"To you?" Azleev questioned.

"Aye, to me," Jixyl repeated. "I mean, good on Stymer and all that. He's been excellent and we obviously couldn't have done it without him... but I'm just as excellent, like."

"Well, yeah," Azleev acknowledged. "We've _all_ been excellent. But it's not normally traditional to toast yourself."

"I think in this case we've achieved such a high level of excellence that it's okay to break with tradition," Jixyl argued.

"Good point," Azleev agreed. "To you... and to me."

"To you," Jixyl endorsed, and another round of glass-chinking ensued. Once the mutual back-patting was out of the way, Jixyl suggested another round of beers. Azleev, however, wasn't so keen.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" he remarked. "A couple of quiet beers was fine but we don't want to get _too_ drunk."

"Speak for yourself," Jixyl joked. Actually, given Jixyl's fondness for booze it was probably highly unlikely that he was joking.

"No, I just mean we don't want to get too drunk in case we start blabbing to someone," Azleev explained. "After all, that was why we came up with the whole 'diquintenol' story with Eric. To ensure he doesn't get drunk and start blabbing."

"Well, that was _part_ of the reason," Jixyl acknowledged, "but the main reason was cos al..."

"Anyway, I'm not having any more booze," Azleev interrupted. "It's not worth the risk of drunkenly blabbing to someone."

"Look, booze might be Eric's one big weakness, but it's not mine," Jixyl boasted. "Eric might be a gormless fool, but I'm a highly intelligent genius, so it's okay if _I_ get totally drunk. Seriously, I don't know why you're so paranoid. _We're_ not as stupid as Eric. We're not gonna start blabbing as soon as we get drunk. _We_ won't make that mistake."

"I still think it's best to be on the safe side," Azleev cautioned.

"Here, man. Even if we did tell someone what we've done they'd probably be just as chuffed as we are," Jixyl proclaimed. "Half the people on Fyra hate the Femlings just as much as we do."

"Yeah, but it'd be just our luck that we'd end up blabbing to one of the few PC do-gooders and then 'kapoof!' All our hard work down the drain," Azleev replied.

"Well you can wimp out if you want," Jixyl goaded, "but _I_ can take my booze, so I'm having a good few more beers yet."

So, true to his word as always, Jixyl had a few more beers, while from that point onwards Azleev stuck to soft drinks.

So when it came to the end of the night and the two friends returned home, Azleev sensibly went straight to sleep, whereas Jixyl instead had a brilliant idea. At least he _thought_ he had a brilliant idea.

But you see, although Jixyl was quite correct earlier in the evening when he proclaimed himself to be a 'highly intelligent genius', what he failed to realise is that alcohol is no respecter of intelligence. Alcohol can transform a highly intelligent genius into a daft gormless chump. Or it can transform a daft gormless chump into an even bigger chump.

And so, as Jixyl was considerably drunk, he had himself been transformed into a bit of a daft chump.

Anyway, the first idea he had was to inform Stymer of the imminent success of the mission, which wasn't in itself a bad idea.

'Aye, I'll tell Stymer the good news,' he thought to himself. 'I'll send him an A.T.S. message.' So Jixyl logged into his A.T.S. account and began typing out a message.

But then he had a better idea. Or so he thought. 'Nar, actually... a moment like this deserves more than a simple message. I'll send him a Supermail.'

And that was his 'brilliant' idea. But as anyone who's ever used A.T.S. will know and testify, using an application programmed by a developer non-affiliated with A.T.S. to send a highly confidential message would have been a risky course of action even when sober. Because non-affiliated A.T.S. applications made their money based on the number of page views they generated. So in order to ensure more page views the programmers would try every way possible to get people to forward their application onto other A.T.S. users.

Sometimes they would do this quite blatantly by refusing to let the user use their application until they forwarded a 'recommendation' onto twenty of their A.T.S. friends.

But other times they would employ more devious methods, the most common of which was to include a tiny pre-ticked box hidden away at the bottom of the page, with a message along the lines of 'okay to forward to twenty randomly generated friends' written in tiny letters alongside this pre-ticked box.

Now if Jixyl had been sober, it's possible he may have remembered to scroll down the page to check if 'Supermail' was one of the non-affiliated A.T.S. applications that used such a sneaky method of self-advertising. Then again, he might not have even remembered to check for this even if he had been sober.

But when drunk the chances of him remembering to carry out this check were slim to none.

So after he had finished typing out his message, and finished adding all the bells and whistles that Supermail allowed you to add to your message, he then hastily clicked 'send'.

'Aye, that's let Stymer share in the good news,' he thought to himself, smugly.

Unfortunately for Jixyl however, it had also let 'twenty randomly selected A.T.S. friends' share in the good news as well.

One of which just so happened to be Monty.

Chapter Nine – Petty Spite

"Fuck!" Monty exclaimed, as he stared at the screen. "Ar, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fffuuuccckk!!! This is bad, this. Ar, this is shockingly bad!"

A news report had just been on TV linking Graham Souness with a possible return to the Newcastle manager's job. Monty then logged into his A.T.S. account and discovered even more bad news.

"Ar, fuck!" he repeated, as he read Jixyl's Supermail message. "Ar... this is even worse! Fuck! Fuck! Fffuuuccckk!!!"

It was clear from the message Jixyl had sent Stymer that the Femlings weren't planning to kill every living species on Earth after all. In fact from Jixyl's message it was clear that the Femlings were no threat to Earth whatsoever. In fact the reason why Jixyl and Azleev had decided to help Eric kill all the Femlings with the Telix-17 virus was due to one thing and one thing only.

Petty spite. The Fyralings were jealous of the Femlings and their five fingers. That was the reason why Eric was at this moment living on a planet billions of miles away across the galaxy with the intention of unleashing a species-obliterating disease upon its population. Petty spite and jealousy. Not saving the Earth from a race of evil planetocidal maniacs. That was all lies. Jixyl and Azleev had fed Eric a load of patter. It was simply petty spite. Pure and simple.

"Ar, fuck!" Monty repeated, once again. "Fuck! This is fucking bad this, like!"

Monty had once been told that 'profanity was a lazy mind trying to express itself'. However, it has to be said that on this occasion the motivation for Monty's profanity was in no way related to laziness. On this occasion the motivation for Monty's profanity was that he was shit-scared out of his fucking brain.

Furthermore, as the narrator I would also like to point out that the profanity in my narrative description of Monty's state of mind, namely that he was 'shit-scared out of his fucking brain' was in no way due to laziness either. Rest assured that I considered several descriptions before deciding that 'shit-scared out of his fucking brain' was the description that most accurately conveyed Monty's state of mind at this time.

Anyway...

"Fuck! I don't fucking believe it!" Monty exclaimed. "The Fyralings have been stringing us along all this time. Fuck! This is fucking scary!" he fearfully, not lazily, added.

But then suddenly, Monty's fear was instantly replaced by intense joy and relief as he came to a logical realisation.

"Hang on a second, though!" he uttered. "If the Fyralings have been patter merchants all this time then that means the Femlings don't want to kill us after all! Earth's safe! The Femlings aren't evil planetocidal maniacs! Yes!" He punched the air with delight. "Ar, yes! Ar, fucking get in!" That time I have to admit it was just laziness. "The Femlings are sound! Earth's safe! I'm going to live! Yes! I'm going to live!" But then though, Monty suddenly couldn't help feeling a little bit selfish at his last comment, so he corrected his thoughts. "I mean... _we're_ going to live. Everyone's safe. We're all going to be okay." The lack of exclamation marks on his corrected thoughts, however, gave the game away as to what brought Monty the most relief between _his_ survival and everyone else's survival.

Suddenly however, as quickly as his joy had arrived, it was instantly gone again. "Ar, hang on, though," he uttered. "If the Fyralings are full of patter and the Femlings don't actually want to obliterate life from Earth, then that means the Femlings are harmless. And innocent. The Fyralings are purely killing them out of petty jealousy and spite. Not to save Earth. Just out of petty jealousy and spite." Monty stared into space for a few moments. "Ar, fuck! Eight billion Femlings might die and they're totally harmless." Monty stared into space for a few more moments as the enormity of his realisation hit him like a twenty ton mallet.

"Well actually I would probably guess that only about ninety percent of the Femlings are sound," he told himself. "There's bound to be about ten percent of them that aren't very nice people... so ninety percent times eight billion... that's only..." He did some quick sums in his head. "...a lot of sound Femlings that are going to die. Woah, that's still a lot, like." He stared into space for a few seconds longer, before exclaiming, "Ar, well. It's a shame for them, like," with, it has to be noted, rather less enthusiasm than had been present earlier when he was exclaiming his joy at realising he wasn't going to die.

But then, once again, it was fear which became the very much dominant emotion in Monty's brain. "Fuck! If the Fyralings will kill eight billion... sorry, slightly less than eight billion harmless Femlings, just cos of a petty digital inferiority complex, then what will they do to Eric? Fuck! Once the mission is over he'll be the only one that knows they were responsible so they'll probably want to ensure his silence. Fuck! Eric is in danger! They'll probably kill him! Fuck! Eric's in deep shit!"

And then an even scarier thought entered Monty's head. "Fuck! _I_ know about the mission as well! Fuck! They'll probably kill me as well! Ar, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm in deep shit!"

And then another not quite as scary but nevertheless far from ideal thought entered Monty's head. "Ar... and Garth knows as well. So he's in danger as well."

"Fuck!" Monty shook his head in despair. "I need to warn Eric," he remarked, getting his focus together. "And Garth."

Warning Garth was a rather simple task that involved nothing more than simply sending him a text message asking him to come over immediately as he had something extremely important to discuss.

But how to warn Eric presented quite a problem. It was clear from the message Jixyl had inadvertently sent Monty that Jixyl and Azleev had access to Eric's A.T.S. account, so taking the chance that Eric was going to log into his A.T.S. account before either Jixyl or Azleev did was a considerable risk. And given that eight billion (and three) lives were at stake, a two to one gamble was a worryingly dangerous gamble to take. And when you also considered that so far Eric seemed more interested in just enjoying the sunshine than keeping up-to-date with his A.T.S. messages, the odds were probably even considerably greater than two to one that Eric would read the warning message before Jixyl or Azleev.

But A.T.S. was currently the only way Monty had of communicating with Eric. He wasn't blessed with the gift of interplanetary travel like Jixyl and Azleev. He didn't even have an interplanetary mobile phone. All he had was A.T.S.

So once Garth arrived Monty quickly brought him up-to-date with the situation in the hope that together they would be able to come up with a safe means of contacting Eric.

"Fuck! This is totally fucked up, this, like," Garth anxiously, not lazily, exclaimed.

"Aye, I know," Monty agreed.

"I totally trusted them," Garth remarked, shaking his head in disbelief. "I thought they were totally sound. Like, for putting themselves out to help us and all that."

"Aye, I know," Monty agreed, once again. "Fucking twats, eh?"

"Yeah," Garth agreed.

"Anyway, we need to contact Eric and we can't send him an A.T.S. message cos Fuckface Jixyl and Tosspot Azleev have got access to his account," Monty remarked.

"How do you reckon they hacked his account?" Garth mused. "Just cos I'm wondering if they've hacked our accounts as well."

"Ar, I hope not," Monty replied. "That'll just make things even more complicated."

"Ar, man. I think I've just sussed out how they've done it," Garth exclaimed.

"How?" Monty inquired.

"Remember the receptionist at that American TV company that Eric told us about?" Garth recalled. "When she dialled Hank Truman they remembered the number no problem at all. So when Eric typed out his password they'll have done the same thing. They'll have just watched what he typed and remembered it. They must have excellent short term memories."

"Fuck! You're right! That means they can log into our accounts as well," Monty surmised.

"Yep," Garth acknowledged.

"Ar, fuck! That just complicates things even more," Monty exclaimed.

"Yep," Garth once again acknowledged.

"Ar, man. We need to contact Eric and we can't use our A.T.S. accounts cos Jixyl and Azleev have got access to them," Monty recapped, "and Eric can't use his cos they've got access to his as well."

"Tricky," Garth remarked.

"More like abso – fucking – lutely impossible," Monty elaborated.

"Yep," Garth yet again acknowledged.

"Can you stop agreeing with uz?" Monty requested. "You're not being very helpful."

So Garth then attempted to be a bit more helpful. "Well for starters, you need to make it look like you haven't been into your A.T.S. account for a few days," he advised. "Just so that Jixyl and Azleev don't know that you've seen the Supermail message."

"Aye, good point," Monty agreed. "But what're we gonna do about Eric?"

The two friends looked at each other not knowing what to say. It was Monty who eventually broke the silence.

"We could just do a runner somewhere," he suggested. "The timing's quite lucky actually, what with you just getting made redundant the other week. And a couple of weeks away might do you good in any case... what with you splitting up with Sarah the other day."

"How does that help Eric, though?" Garth quizzed. "And the Femlings?"

"It doesn't," Monty admitted, "but there's no point us all dying."

"Well yeah, that's not a bad idea," Garth agreed. "We should definitely go into hiding, but we still need to try to warn Eric as well."

"How about we write a coded message on his A.T.S. wall?" Monty suggested.

"Hmm... not a bad idea," Garth nodded. "What do you suggest?"

"Like, some sort of message that secretly warns Eric that Jixyl and Azleev are dodgy, but doesn't let Jixyl and Azleev know that we're onto them," Monty explained.

"I know what a coded message is," Garth clarified. "I meant, what exactly are you going to write?"

"Ar... well I haven't really thought it through that far yet," Monty admitted.

Garth then came up with another idea. "Why don't we just set up a fake A.T.S. account for some made-up person, then add Eric as an A.T.S. friend? Then as soon as Eric adds the fake person as a friend, we quickly send him a message warning him that Jixyl and Azleev are dodgy. That way Jixyl and Azleev won't be able to add the friend cos then Eric would know someone was logging into his account, so that way we can be sure that only Eric will read the warning message we send."

"Mebbees," Monty shrugged.

"Well it's the best plan we've come up with so far," Garth pointed out.

"What if Eric doesn't add the friend though?" Monty questioned. "Like, if we use a made-up person there's a good chance Eric will just think 'I don't know him' and click ignore."

"Hmm..." Garth pondered.

"In fact... nar. It's a bad idea," Monty opined. "I reckon Eric would definitely just click ignore if he didn't know someone, like."

"Hmm, so I guess we scrap that plan, then," Garth decided. He dwelt on the matter some more. "How about this then... we set up a fake brand page and then offer him free stuff if he adds the brand homepage to his groups, then communicate with him that way. That's got more chance of working cos the offer of free stuff should appeal to Eric's frugal nature."

"We don't know any brands on Fem, though," Monty pointed out.

"They'll probably have a McDonalds there," Garth joked. "And being serious, we can easily look some up on the G.I.N."

"But the flaw with that idea is that Eric doesn't need free stuff, though," Monty reasoned. "Jixyl and Azleev are financing his trip."

Garth pondered some more until suddenly his eyes lit up. "I've got it!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Monty inquired, optimistically.

"It's the perfect plan!" Garth enthused.

"What is?" Monty quizzed.

"It's obvious really... when you think about it," Garth replied.

"What is? Here, man. What are you on about?" Monty asked, impatiently.

"We go back to my original idea where we set up a fake profile, but..." Garth paused for dramatic effect. "...instead of pretending to be a dude, we pretend to be a fit lass. Like, we use a photo of a really lush looking lass and everything. And then just to make absolutely sure that he adds her we include a welcome message along the lines of, 'Hi, I've seen you around in Ko Pagna and really fancy you but I'm too shy to speak to you so I thought I'd contact you by A.T.S. first. I'd really like to meet sometime.' Then we just leave it as that."

Monty's eyes began to light up as well. "Aye, I see where you're going," he acknowledged.

"It's an excellent idea," Garth boasted. "If Eric sees a fit lass that wants to meet up he'll definitely be tempted to add her as a friend... whether he knows her or not. That's just a typical Eric reaction. And if we word the welcome message right then that should make it a definite clincher. Then once he's added her we'll have an account we can use to contact Eric which Jixyl and Azleev won't have access to."

"Aye! That's a quality idea!" Monty agreed.

"So what we do is we stay permanently logged into this fit lass's account," Garth elucidated, spelling out the final details of his plan, "then the moment Eric adds her we send him a message straight away to tell him the bad news."

"That it's not really a fit lass and it's just us?" Monty remarked.

"Well, no... that Jixyl and Azleev are pure patter merchants that have been stringing him along and that his life might be in danger," Garth corrected.

"Ar, aye. That as well," Monty replied. Monty's enthusiasm then suddenly became somewhat subdued, however. "There's just one problem though. What if Jixyl or Azleev look at this made-up lass's profile and see that she's got no friends? They might get suspicious."

"So we'll create a load of other fake people as well then," Garth suggested. "And add them to this fake lass, and write fake messages on her wall and stuff, so that she looks real. Then we'll do the same for her fake friends and connect all these fake people up randomly so that they all look genuine."

"How many d'you reckon we should set up?" Monty asked.

"A hundred?" Garth proposed. "Or, I dunno... two hundred?"

"Two hundred!" Monty blurted out. "It'll take all day! We were meant to be watching the match later on!"

"Yeah but maybe, just _maybe_ , Eric's safety and the survival of eight billion innocent Femlings is maybe a little bit more important than watching the match," Garth pointed out.

"Aye, maybe," Monty conceded. "It is only Norwich, I suppose. He owes us big time for this, though."

So then Monty and Garth wasted no further time and got straight down to the task of creating two hundred fake A.T.S. profiles. In the end they went the extra mile and ended up setting up almost three hundred fake profiles, which was probably a lot more than was necessary, but with the massive consequences at stake they decided it was better to go too far than not far enough.

Then once they had sent Eric a friend request from the fake fit lass, who they decided to call Stella Gascrom, they then decided to take shifts sitting on A.T.S. constantly clicking 'refresh' waiting for Eric to add Stella Gascrom as a friend. Then the moment she was added they would then instantly send Eric a message urging him to change his password and also suggesting that he give Jixyl and Azleev some patter about someone having possibly seen him type his password so he'd changed it just to be on the safe side.

And then once his password was changed, and Jixyl and Azleev were no longer able to access his account, _then_ they would warn him of the dangerous position he was in.

Garth, who had volunteered to take the first shift, clicked 'refresh'. There was no change. Eric apparently hadn't logged in yet. Stella Gascrom was not yet added as a friend.

He clicked 'refresh' again. Still no change.

"This could take a while," he commented.

"Hopefully he'll log in soon," Monty remarked, optimistically.

"Yeah," Garth agreed. "Come on, Eric. Log in. Come on. Eight billion Femlings are depending on you."

He clicked 'refresh' once again. Still no change.

So he kept clicking. And kept on hoping. Hoping that they weren't too late and that Eric hadn't already unleashed the Telix-17 virus upon the Femling population.

Another click. And still no change. "Come on, Eric. Log in soon. And please don't have snogged any lasses yet."

Another click. All Garth could do was keep on clicking.

And keep on hoping.

Chapter Ten – Code Names

"I tell you what's weird," Eric mused to Kesta as they lay on Ko Pagna's Sunrise Beach enjoying the sun.

"What?" Kesta inquired.

"Topless beaches," Eric replied.

Kesta looked slightly bemused. "'Weird' isn't the word I'd use to describe topless beaches," he remarked. "'Very pleasant' is the word I'd use."

Eric decided to overlook Kesta's poor counting skills. "Well, aye. They're pleasant," Eric agreed. "But I didn't really mean topless beaches. I meant more the _origin_ of topless beaches. Like, who invented them? And, like, what was his patter? Was he, like, 'Nar, honestly. It's alright. You can get your baps out and it doesn't count cos it's on a beach.'"

Kesta chuckled.

"And then, like," Eric continued, "were the lasses, like, 'Ar, alright, then. I'll get my baps out... as long as it doesn't count.' I don't understand the logic behind it."

"Eric, you don't have to understand it," Kesta replied. "You just have to enjoy it."

"Well, aye. I _do_ enjoy it," Eric acknowledged, "but does it not seem weird to you? Like, you see that lass over there walking to the fruit shake stand?" Eric subtly nodded towards the lass in question. "Well she's had her baps out for the last half hour and then when she goes to the fruit shake stand she puts her bikini top back on." Eric performed a theatrical shrug to indicate his lack of comprehension of the lass's behaviour. "Like, eh? Like, where's the logic in that? Like, is she thinking, 'Oo, I don't want people to see my baps while I'm at the fruit shake stand, but when I'm lying on the beach and when I was splashing about in the sea earlier on, then no worries. I'll happily get my baps out then.' Like, I can't understand her way of thinking."

"Eric mate, you need to re-evaluate your priorities," Kesta advised. "When most blokes see a fit lass with her baps out on the beach they don't come out with a psychological evaluation of her motivations. They just think, 'Mmm, she's nice.'"

"Well, aye. So do I," Eric replied. "Especially those three lasses over there by the volleyball court..."

"Aye, I'd noticed them as well," Kesta observed.

"...but all I'm saying is I just don't understand the principle. How is the beach okay for bap revealing and the fruit shake stand isn't?"

"It's just social etiquette," Kesta suggested. "It's okay on a beach but the fruit shake stand is off the beach."

"Only by about a metre," Eric pointed out. "What's wrong with having your baps out just cos you're a metre off the beach?"

"Nothing's wrong with it. It's just not the done thing," Kesta explained. "Like, you've got your top off now, but if you went for a job interview you'd wear a shirt."

"Aye, cos I wouldn't get the job if I had my chest out," Eric contended. "Well... unless it was a pervy woman doing the interview, mebbees. But anyway, what I mean is, if she'd gone to buy a fruit shake with her baps out the fruit shake dude wouldn't have gone, 'No! I refuse to serve you until you cover yourself up, young lady!' He'd have gone, 'Here's your fruit shake. That's forty credits please,' and then thought, 'Mmm, nice baps.'"

"Well maybe that's just it," Kesta proposed. "Maybe she doesn't _want_ the fruit shake dude thinking, 'Mmm, nice baps.'"

By now the lass in question was back at her towel and already had her bikini top off once again. "Well, I mean she's sat about ten metres away from the stand, like," Eric pointed out. "So, like, if she doesn't want him thinking, 'Mmm, nice baps,' then she should either keep her bikini top on or sit further away."

"Would you be happier then if she kept her bikini top on, would you?" Kesta questioned.

"Nar, course not," Eric replied. "I'm just saying... it's the inconsistency I don't understand. Like, if she permanently had her top on I could understand her logic. Or if she had her baps out all the time I could understand that as well. But, like, baps out on the beach, a metre off cover them up? That makes no sense to me."

"Eric mate, so what you're saying is if all the lasses on the beach kept their bikini tops on all day, you'd understand that, wouldn't you?" Kesta asked.

"Aye, they just wouldn't want to get their baps out," Eric replied. "Like, fair enough."

"But if some lasses get their baps out most of the day and occasionally cover them up, you don't understand that, do you?" Kesta quizzed.

"Na," Eric answered, shaking his head. "It's completely illogical."

"Well then... surely that tells you it's better to enjoy than to understand," Kesta announced, philosophically.

Eric considered Kesta's words for a moment, then a smile appeared on his face. "Wise words, Kesta. Wise words indeed."

At that moment Hex strolled up. "Alright, how's it going?" he greeted.

"Eric's just been whinging on about lasses getting their baps out on the beach," Kesta joked.

"Nar, I haven't," Eric quickly corrected. "I've just been saying I don't understand the inconsistency of lasses sometimes. Like, I tell you what else I don't understand..."

"Here we go again," Kesta smirked. "This'll be another one of your psychological analyses, will it?"

"Well, just an observation," Eric replied, before adding, "Why do lasses sunbathe topless in the shade?"

"I have to admit I've wondered that as well," Hex agreed.

"Aye, it's weird, isn't it?" Eric remarked, looking smug that Hex had agreed with him. "Like, there's no logic to it."

"Eric, I've already told you," Kesta commented. "Don't worry yourself trying to understand the logic. Just enjoy."

"I know but they're not gonna get a tan lying in the shade," Eric pointed out. "So what's the point in getting their baps out? Like, surely the only reason to get your baps out in the shade is so that dudes can perv on you." Eric shrugged theatrically. "Unless I'm missing something." For a brief moment Eric had a pang of paranoia as he considered for a moment the possibility that maybe he _was_ missing something and that maybe on Fem the laws of physics and biology relating to suntans were different from on Earth. By Kesta and Hex's relaxed body language, however, he soon realised that suntans on Fem followed the same rules as on Earth.

"Maybe you're right," Kesta admitted.

"Anyway, much as I enjoy talking about baps, what's the plan for tonight?" Hex asked, changing the subject.

"I thought we were going to the pool party," Kesta remarked.

"Yeah, but I mean, what time are we setting off?" Hex clarified.

"Do you not fancy going to The Hang Out Club first for a bit?" Eric suggested.

"We go there every night, man, Eric," Kesta whinged. "I thought we were all up for the pool party for a change of scenery."

"Yeah, we'll definitely go to the pool party," Eric agreed, "but it's not meant to start kicking off until about fourteen o'clock, so I thought mebbees we could go to Hang Out earlier on for an hour or so, and then head over to the pool party at fourteen o'clock."

"How come you're so keen to go to Hang Out, like?" Hex inquired.

"Well, just, like ... whatever," Eric shrugged, trying to appear indifferent either way. "It's just an idea... but, like, whatever."

"It's cos there's this new lass that he fancies," Kesta revealed, "and he's stalking her."

"I'm not stalking her," Eric defended. "If she hung out at Rapid and I said let's go to Rapid, _that_ would be stalking her cos I would never go to Rapid otherwise. But I like Hang Out in any case so it's not stalking if I go to Hang Out. It's just going to my favourite club which, coincidentally, she likes as well."

"So what happened to Appa Hat?" Hex quizzed.

"But in any case, she'd never go to Rapid anyway though," Eric continued, ignoring Hex's question, "cos she's far too cool to be into crap music like that."

"So what happened to Appa Hat?" Hex repeated.

"Ar, well, she's still excellent as well, like. But, I think she's gone home now so, like... well, there's no point fancying someone who isn't here," Eric shrugged. "And, like, I've just noticed recently that I'm totally into Sveltish Indie Chick now. I'm just sort of a bit fickle, I suppose."

"Sveltish Indie Chick? Is that this new lass's name, is it?" Hex asked.

"Aye," Eric nodded.

"So who is she, then?" Hex inquired.

"She's just this totally cool Sveltish lass that hangs out at Hang Out," Eric revealed.

"Sveltish? Well that narrows it down to about two hundred lasses," Hex replied, sarcastically.

"And she's an indie chick," Eric elaborated. "That's where her name comes from... Sveltish Indie Chick. It's cos she's Sveltish and she's also an indie chick."

"Hey, that's genius, that, like," Kesta sniggered, mocking Eric's lack of creativity when coming up with code names.

"Ar, and she's got her bottom lip pierced twice," Eric continued. "One on either side."

"You should have called her 'Sveltish Indie Chick With Her Bottom Lip Pierced Twice'," Kesta suggested. "That would have been even more genius."

"Ar, if only I'd thought of that sooner," Eric joked.

"I don't think I've seen her," Hex remarked.

"You will have done, like," Eric insisted. "She's totally cool. Like, _totally_ cool. Like, you probably wont believe uz when I say this but, like, seriously, no lie... she's probably even cooler than me!"

"No way!" Hex replied with exaggerated enthusiasm and a smirk on his face.

"You're just being ridiculous now, Eric," Kesta added, going along with the joke. "Surely no-one could be cooler than you!"

"I know. That's what I thought," Eric smiled, "but it looks like I was wrong. Seriously, I think she's actually even cooler than me!"

"Anyway, I don't mind going to Hang Out for a bit first," Kesta agreed, "as long as we definitely go to the pool party later on."

"Ar, yeah. Definitely," Eric affirmed.

"And as long as you promise to talk to Sveltish Indie Chick this time," Kesta added.

"So you haven't even talked to her yet, then?" Hex exclaimed.

"Well, nar," Eric shrugged.

"Well I thought you were saying you totally liked her," Hex remarked.

"I do," Eric replied. "That's why I haven't spoke to her. Like, if she was just averagely fit then I could talk to her canny easily. But she's, like, totally lush so that just makes it totally hard for uz to talk to her.

Like, the psychology of my brain is totally rubbish cos the level of my bottling-it-ness increases exponentially in direct proportion to the fitness and coolness of the lass. And Sveltish Indie Chick is, like, the coolest lass in Ko Pagna by totally miles so, like, my bottling-it-ness level is, like, totally sky-high."

"That's why you need to hit the diquintenol," Kesta suggested. "Trust uz. Your bottling-it-ness level goes down in direct proportion to the amount of DQ you drink... to use your terminology."

"Ar, I know," Eric agreed. "But I've told you, I've never scored sober. It's just something I need to do to prove to myself I can do it."

"Well at the moment all you're doing is proving to yourself that you _can't_ do it," Kesta pointed out.

"Well I'm definitely gonna try and talk to her tonight," Eric replied, although secretly he suspected that he would more than likely bottle it once again.

"Anyway, I was just gonna get some scran," Hex suggested, "so are yous stopping in the sun or are yous coming for some food?"

"Scran sounds good," Kesta replied. "Mr.J's?"

"Mr.J's sounds good," Hex agreed.

"I'm gonna head back to my room," Eric remarked.

"Woah! Are you not feeling well?" Kesta joked. "It's not like you to knock back food."

"Aye, I know but I need to check my A.T.S.," Eric explained.

"You can check that anytime," Kesta pointed out.

"Aye, but it's just that I haven't logged in for a couple of days so I want to get up-to-date," Eric remarked.

"No worries," Hex replied. "Will we meet you at thirteen o'clock then, at Hang Out on the steps?"

"Aye, sounds good," Eric agreed. "But hang on a sec cos I might as well walk with yous to Mr.J's. It's on the way anyway."

So they packed up their towels and Kesta and Hex headed to Mr.J's, whilst Eric tagged along on his way back to his room to check his A.T.S.

On his way to potentially discovering the truth about Jixyl and Azleev and the innocence and harmlessness of the Femlings.

. . . . . . .

Meanwhile, Azleev was at that very precise moment checking his A.T.S. account himself. More specifically, he was at that very precise time reading Jixyl's Supermail message to Stymer, which he had also inadvertently sent to twenty randomly selected friends, one of which was Azleev.

'Eh? What's Jixyl sent me this for?' Azleev thought to himself, and then it began to sink in. 'Shit! He's sent it to twenty randomly selected friends! Shit! We could be in deep crap here!' Azleev quickly scrolled down the recipient list and hoped for all his worth that Eric wasn't one of the randomly selected friends. To his relief, he wasn't, but to his horror he discovered that Monty was. "Shit! It's gone to Monty as well!" he exclaimed. "Ar, shit! What a dipshit Jixyl is!" Azleev shook his head in panic and disbelief. "I don't believe this," he muttered. "Why couldn't he just send a normal message? Everyone knows Supermail is as dodgy as a virus. Ar, shit! This could be all our hard work down the drain cos of that chump."

Once Azleev had finished with his little rant, he set about finding out whether it was indeed all their hard work down the drain cos of that chump. He quickly logged out of his account and into Monty's account using Monty's password which, as Garth had correctly surmised, he had easily memorised when Monty set up his account.

He was relieved to discover that Jixyl's message was as yet unread. Of course, this wasn't conclusive proof that Monty hadn't read it. He could quite easily have read it and then clicked on 'mark as unread' to make it appear like he hadn't read it yet.

But all the signs were that Monty hadn't been into his account for a couple of days, and when Azleev checked the 'User Log' screen, the last log-in time and date seemed to confirm that it was a couple of days since Monty had last logged into his A.T.S. account, and therefore Jixyl's monumental cock-up was not, as yet, catastrophic.

However, the Supermail message still needed to be erased from Monty's account and this presented a problem. Deleting Jixyl's message wouldn't remove all trace of it as its arrival would still be recorded on Monty's notifications page, together with the first line of the message. So that left only one possible solution. The Supermail message needed to be recalled.

Azleev therefore had no time to waste. Monty could log in at any time and so it was imperative that Jixyl recalled his Supermail message as a matter of urgency.

So Azleev tried to call him, but for some reason there was no answer. So then he sent him a text. And then he also sent him an A.T.S. message, by normal mail, not the rather inappropriately named Supermail. Then he tried to call him again but once again there was no answer.

So then Azleev went sprinting across the student campus in the direction of Jixyl's quarters to find out why.

. . . . . . .

Stella Gascrom had still not been added to Eric's A.T.S. friend list. And by now it had become Monty's turn to take a shift.

"No luck yet?" Garth inquired.

"Ar, yeah. I forgot to mention, he added her a couple of hours ago so it's all sorted now. Panic over," Monty replied, sarcastically, "but I just thought I'd keep sitting here like a muppet clicking 'refresh' for a couple of extra hours rather than telling you, just cos I enjoy it so much."

"Alright. I was only asking," Garth snapped, defensively.

"Don't worry, if and when he adds her as a friend you can rest assured that I'll deem it significant enough to mention the fact," Monty mocked.

"Ar, I hope he hasn't snogged any lasses already," Garth mused.

"Have faith in Eric's bottling-it skills," Monty encouraged, optimistically.

"Yeah, without alcohol I suppose there's a good chance he'll bottle it," Garth agreed. He looked skyward in a symbolic gesture to indicate that he was looking out across the galaxy towards Eric on the planet Fem. "Come on, Eric," he pleaded. "We're relying on you. The people of Fem are relying on you."

"Why are you looking at the ceiling?" Monty asked, not getting into the spirit of things. As they were sat in a hotel room in Magalluf, Garth had technically been looking at the hotel room ceiling, rather than across the galaxy.

"It was meant to be a symbolic gesture to indicate that I was reaching out across the galaxy to Eric on Fem," Garth explained, just like I explained a few moments ago.

"But the ceiling's in the way," Monty pointed out, "so you're actually looking at the lampshade."

"It's a gesture," Garth repeated.

"And besides, you're looking the wrong way. Fem's over there," Monty joked, pointing in the opposite direction to where Garth was looking.

"Surprisingly enough, I can't actually see fifty billion light years in any case," Garth pointed out. "So which way I look is irrelevant." Some of Monty's sarkiness was beginning to rub off on him.

"Aye, cos the ceiling's in the way," Monty repeated. Even though some of Monty's sarkiness was rubbing off on Garth, he still had more than enough left over for himself.

This time Garth ignored Monty's sarkiness. "It's horrible not knowing what's going on," he reflected. "He could be snogging a lass right at this minute. Right as we speak."

"Or he could be sitting in his room about to log into his A.T.S. account," Monty added. "We don't know, so there's no point worrying about it yet."

Then he clicked 'refresh' once again.

And hoped. And hoped. And hoped.

. . . . . . .

Right at that minute Eric wasn't in fact logging into his A.T.S. account. But neither was he snogging a lass. He was in fact standing outside Mr.J's restaurant just about to say goodbye to his two mates before heading off to check his A.T.S. account.

But then something caught his eye. "Hey, that's good, like," he remarked.

"What is?" Kesta inquired.

"Any main course of your choice plus a free fruit shake for a hundred credits," Eric answered, pointing to a tiny poster outside Mr.J's.

"Trust you to spot a bargain as usual," Kesta chuckled. Even though Jixyl and Azleev were paying for all of Eric's expenses on Fem, Eric's inherent tightness had nevertheless still manifested itself on one or two occasions.

"Anyway, I thought you weren't hungry," Hex reminded Eric. "I thought you said you needed to check your A.T.S."

"I'm not. And I do," Eric confirmed, "but when there's an offer as good as that it'd be rude not to take advantage of it."

So the three friends found themselves a table inside Mr.J's and ordered three special offer meal deals.

"So anyway, Kesta," Eric remarked, as the waiter took their orders to the kitchen. "If I'm gonna try and talk to Sveltish Indie Chick, does that mean you're gonna talk to Nine Out Of Ten?"

"Who's Nine Out Of Ten?" Hex inquired.

"Hey, you're out of the loop, like," Eric commented, before adding, "She's this lass that Kesta fancies."

"I can't. She's got a boyfriend," Kesta protested. "I'm not a home wrecker."

"You're not a home wrecker?" Eric queried, with eyebrows raised. "So you mean to say, if Nine Out Of Ten came up to you now, and she was all, like, 'Oo, Kesta... I really like you, so how do you fancy sneaking off from my boyfriend and getting down to some hot and horny fun and frolics,' you'd be, like, 'Sorry, but I'm not a home wrecker.'"

"Course I wouldn't!" Kesta laughed. "I'd be straight in there."

"So when you say you're not a home wrecker, what you actually mean is that as long as no opportunity presents itself, you uphold a high moral code and you're therefore not a home wrecker," Eric reasoned, "but as soon as the opportunity presents itself, your morals go out the window and you are then in fact a dedicated and enthusiastic home wrecker."

"Well, aye... basically," Kesta admitted.

"That's very commendable of you there, Kesta," Eric joked. "It's nice to know that thanks to your high moral standards, the homes of Fem are safe... as long as you don't have the opportunity."

Kesta just smiled. "Anyway, who's _your_ number one at the minute?" he asked Hex, diverting the focus away from himself.

"I haven't really got a number one," Hex shrugged. "I basically fancy every lass in Ko Pagna. They're all fit here." As if to illustrate his point four fit Sveltish lasses walked past the front of Mr.J's at that exact same moment. "See what I mean!"

"Aye, I fancy every lass here as well," Kesta agreed, "but you must still have a favourite."

"Yeah, like, it's a gun-to-your-head situation and you have to score with a lass in Ko Pagna," Eric hypothesised. "Who would you pick?"

"Well I think you haven't quite grasped the concept of a gun-to-your-head situation, like, Eric," Kesta observed. "A gun-to-your-head situation would be something like, 'You have to score with a mermaid. Would you rather her top half was a fish or the bottom half?' That's a gun-to-your-head situation. Not 'you have to score with one of the many fit lasses in Ko Pagna'."

"No, man. I don't mean scoring with a lass would be a gun-to-your-head situation," Eric clarified. "I mean having to _choose_ would be a gun-to-your-head situation."

"I'd go top half human and bottom half fish," Hex revealed. "Cos at least that way you could have a bit play with her baps."

"Aye but there'd be this big fish's tail attached to her body," Kesta pointed out.

"Well aye, but it's better than having a big fish's head attached to her legs," Eric opined. "Like, I'd definitely go top half human as well, like."

"Anyway, who's your number one lass in Ko Pagna, then, Hex?" Kesta repeated.

"Well..." Hex pondered the question. "If I _had_ to pick someone then there's this lass who sits in front of Palm Tree Resort who's probably got the most perfect baps I've ever seen in my entire life..." Hex enthusiastically remarked, before suddenly becoming all chilled again, "...but I mean, I'm not really that fussed. Like I say, every lass here is fit."

"Ar! Are you on about Perfect Baps?" Eric inquired.

"Yeah, pay attention, Eric," Hex responded. "I've just said... she's got perfect baps."

"No, I mean I think you're on about Perfect Baps," Eric reiterated.

"Yeah, I am," Hex replied, becoming slightly bemused at Eric's communicational shortcomings.

"No, I mean that's her code name," Eric explained. "She's called Perfect Baps."

"Ar, right," Hex smirked, finally realising that he was using the term 'perfect baps' to describe a pair of perfect baps, whereas Eric was using the term 'Perfect Baps' to describe a lass who happened to have a pair of perfect baps.

"Aye, and she's got two other mates who are really fit as well, hasn't she?" Eric continued.

"Nar, the lass I'm on about sits on her own," Hex revealed.

"Ar... well that's not Perfect Baps, then," Eric replied.

"Trust uz. Her baps are absolutely perfect, like," Hex insisted.

"Maybe they are," Eric remarked, "but that's not her code name. Perfect Baps sits with her two mates, so you must be on about a different lass." Eric thought for a moment. "Has she got a red and white towel?"

"I dunno, man," Hex replied. "I just noticed her baps and her fit body. I wasn't really paying much attention to her towel, to be honest."

"Eric was probably thinking, 'Oo, look at that lovely towel she's sitting on. It goes really well with her bikini,'" Kesta joked.

"I'm just trying to work out who you're on about," Eric protested, defensively.

"Does she wear a totally skimpy thong?" Kesta asked. "And when she comes out of the sea she unties her hair and shakes her head, and her hair flows over her shoulders and her baps jiggle ever so slightly."

"Yes. And yes," Hex confirmed. "You see Eric, if you'd mentioned her skimpy thong and her jiggling baps then I might have known who you were on about. But not her towel."

"Aye, that's not Perfect Baps. That's Tits McGhee," Kesta revealed. "Aye, she'd be in my top three as well, like."

"Why's she called Tits McGhee?" Hex inquired.

"That's just her code name," Eric shrugged.

"I know, but why can't she be called Perfect Baps?" Hex quizzed.

"Cos Perfect Baps is called Perfect Baps," Eric explained. "You can't have two lasses with the same code name. That would just be crazy."

"Well why can't Perfect Baps be called something else and Tits McGhee be called Perfect Baps?" Hex persisted.

"Cos Perfect Baps was called Perfect Baps first," Eric enlightened. "You can't go changing people's names. That would just be anarchy. You have to stick to the rules."

"Don't try and argue with him about code names," Kesta remarked. "He wouldn't even let me call Nine Out Of Ten, Ten Out Of Ten."

"Why not?" Hex inquired.

"Because no matter how lush a lass is in real life," Eric explained, "you'd always pick a famous lass over a non-famous lass. So if you give a non-famous lass ten out of ten then that means you'd have to give a famous lass eleven out of ten. And that's mathematically impossible... so you've gotta, like, stick to the rules of maths."

Kesta and Hex looked at Eric with smirks on their faces.

"I'm just explaining the rules," Eric shrugged. "Don't blame me. I didn't _invent_ the rules. I just ensure they're adhered to."

"So anyway, does that mean Sveltish Indie Chick is a nine out of ten?" Kesta asked.

"She's a nine point seven," Eric replied.

"Nine point seven!" Kesta retorted. "How come you can have a nine point seven and I'm not allowed to go over nine?" He looked quite annoyed at this apparent injustice.

"Sveltish Indie Chick is a special case," Eric contended.

"Hey, it sounds like you totally fancy her, like, Eric," Hex observed.

"Ar, I do," Eric acknowledged. "Seriously, this is how much I fancy her... like, if I could either score with five famous lasses of my choice, and they were all, like, totally horny for uz, or... I could go out with Sveltish Indie chick, then I'd..." Eric paused as he contemplated getting jiggy with the five most attractive famous women on Fem. "Actually, that's not a very good example," he concluded, "but I mean, I do totally fancy Sveltish Indie Chick, like."

"I think I'm gonna call Nine Out Of Ten, Nine Point Eight Out Of Ten from now on," Kesta announced. He was still annoyed at what he saw as Eric's inconsistency in applying the rules.

"Howay man, Kesta," Eric remonstrated. "You can't go changing lasses' names. You know the rules."

"Well if you can change the rules and make Sveltish Indie Chick a nine point seven then I can change the rules as well," Kesta retorted.

"I never changed the rules," Eric insisted. "I said you can't make a non-famous lass a ten out of ten, but I never said you couldn't have decimal points. You were the one that suddenly jumped down to nine. But you could have had decimal points if you'd wanted."

"Well you didn't tell uz that at the time," Kesta grunted.

"I just assumed you'd realise," Eric shrugged.

"So how come Sveltish Indie Chick's only a nine point seven and not a nine point nine, then?" Hex inquired.

"Cos she smokes," Eric explained. "And normally, smoking would qualify for a one or two point penalty, but in Sveltish Indie Chick's case it only cost her a nought point two deduction, on account of her overall lushness and coolness."

At this point their meals and shakes arrived so the conversation died down and was replaced by eating. Then, after they had finished their meals they reconfirmed their arrangement to meet at Hang Out at thirteen o'clock and then went their separate ways.

And so Eric headed back to his room with the intention of checking his A.T.S. where Stella Gascrom was waiting for him with the Earth-shattering, sorry _Fem_ -shattering news of Jixyl and Azleev's deception.

. . . . . . .

Azleev hammered on Jixyl's door for the third time. "Jixyl, if you're in there, open the door!" he called out. "It's important! The success of the mission could depend on it!" There was no answer. So Azleev tried ringing him again, but there was still no answer on his phone either. So he brayed on the door again. But still there was no answer. "Ar, where is he?" Azleev muttered to himself.

Where Jixyl was, was stretched over the toilet spewing his guts up. For all his bravado the previous night about being able to handle his booze, the truth of the matter was that Jixyl was very susceptible to hangovers. And given that he had drank a particularly large quantity of alcohol the previous night, this was therefore a particularly bad hangover. The worst that Jixyl could ever remember having in fact (not including his early drinking days, obviously).

Azleev gave one more knock on Jixyl's door, again without answer, and was just about to give up when he had a stroke of luck. At that moment the toilet seat fell towards the down position, striking Jixyl on the head, who let out a loud 'ow!'

Azleev's eyes lit up. "Jixyl? Is that you? Are you in there?" he screamed, this time twice as loud as he had previously shouted.

Jixyl heard him this time, but was in no fit state to deal with visitors and so he decided to just keep quiet and hope Azleev would go away. He also decided to clutch his head in his hands to try to make the pain from the toilet seat incident go away. It didn't work. Instead the toilet seat pain just sort of mingled with his hangover pain and merged into one big massive pain that was greater than the sum of its parts.

His 'keep quiet and hope he'll go away' strategy, however, also proved as unsuccessful as his 'clutch his head to make the pain go away' strategy, because Azleev banged on the door once again. "Jixyl, man! Open the door, you spoon!" he demanded. "If you don't open the door I'll break it down," and to prove that he was serious Azleev flung himself against the door. The frame and hinges soaked up the force quite easily but it made a suitably loud bang which proved it was a serious threat and jolted Jixyl into action. He opened the door to his friend then slumped back against the wall and rested his head in his hands once again.

"Hey, you look rough," Azleev observed.

Jixyl just groaned.

Azleev wasted no further time and got straight to the point. "That Supermail message you sent to Stymer... you also sent it to Monty."

The information seemed to swim around inside Jixyl's brain for a few seconds, until suddenly his eyes sprang open. "What?" he asked, looking particularly shocked.

"You also sent it to Monty," Azleev repeated.

"How do you know that?" Jixyl questioned.

"Cos luckily you also sent it to me," Azleev revealed.

"Fuck!!!" Jixyl exclaimed. Actually, the actual Fyraling profanity that he actually exclaimed was about six times stronger than the word 'fuck', but since no equivalent word exists in English, 'fuck' is the word that any English person who was listening on G.O.T. would have heard.

"Yes, 'fuck' indeed," Azleev agreed. "So I'm afraid there's no time for you to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You need to log into your A.T.S. account straight away and recall the message."

"So he hasn't read it yet?" Jixyl inquired, hopefully.

"I can't be one hundred percent certain, but no, it doesn't appear that he's read it yet," Azleev replied.

Jixyl suddenly found some energy from somewhere and jumped up and ran to his computer. Working on the theory that 'the less people that know, the better' they decided it was best to attempt to recall all twenty of the unintentionally sent Supermail messages. Eighteen were showing as unread and therefore recalled without any problems, but two of the messages were marked as read and therefore couldn't be recalled.

"Phewf!" Jixyl exclaimed, as he scanned the list of recalled messages and discovered that Monty's A.T.S. account no longer contained plan-threatening revelations. "He hasn't read it."

"He _probably_ hasn't read it," Azleev corrected. "That's how it appears but we can't be completely certain that he hasn't totally covered his tracks."

"So are you saying you reckon we should silence him?" Jixyl asked. "Like, just to be on the safe side."

"We can't do that," Azleev remarked. "Eric would get suspicious if Monty stopped messaging him."

"What about after the mission, then?" Jixyl suggested.

"Maybe," Azleev replied. "It shouldn't really be a problem then though, cos the Femlings will already be dead. I was mainly just concerned about Monty warning Eric about the contents of the message, more than anything which might happen after the mission."

"I just meant to make absolutely sure that no-one can trace the Telix-17 virus back to us," Jixyl explained.

"Well Earth is a non-contact planet in any case so I can't see us getting caught," Azleev commented, "but there's no harm, I suppose... although depending on what course of action we decide to pursue once Fem is taken care of, Monty's silence might not be an issue in any case."

"True," Jixyl agreed.

"Anyway, what about the two messages you couldn't recall?" Azleev quizzed. "Are those two blokes gonna be a problem?"

"Nar, they're sound," Jixyl declared. "Ando Wirex is a member of the Underground Anti-Fem League, and I don't know Flon Savion that well but I'm pretty sure he's a member as well. So they'll have been as pleased as we were when they discovered what's going on."

"You still better tell them to make sure it goes no further, though," Azleev counselled. "The less people that know, the less chance of anyone accidentally letting anything slip."

"Trust uz. They're totally sound," Jixyl reassured him.

"Yeah, well just make sure they don't get drunk one night and send out a load of random Supermail messages," Azleev jibed, having a sly dig at his friend.

Jixyl looked suitably guilty and apologetic, then placed his head in his hands and thanked his lucky stars that he only had a scale ten hangover to deal with, and not the failure of the mission.

. . . . . . .

Eric was the last to arrive at the agreed meeting point on the steps at The Hang Out Club.

"Another new t-shirt," Kesta observed. "How many t-shirts have you actually got?" This was more an acknowledgement that Eric seemed to have worn three different t-shirts every day since they had met him, rather than an actual question, but Eric answered it anyway.

"Twenty three," Eric revealed.

"Twenty three!" Kesta exclaimed. "Eh! What do you need twenty three t-shirts for when you're on holiday?"

"Fashion isn't about necessity," Eric explained. "Fashion is about indulgence."

"Is that a quote off one of your t-shirts?" Hex asked.

"Nar... but it mebbees should be, though," Eric replied. "It could be the basis of a pretty cool t-shirt. Mebbees it would involve a canny few colours to fit in with the indulgence theme... but, like, dull colours. And, like, blended together obviously, rather than big squares of colour."

"Ar, obviously," Kesta replied, sarcastically. "That goes without saying." He then noticed Eric perusing the club, so he added, "She's not here, if that's why you're looking around the club."

"Huh?" Eric shrugged, pretending not to know who Kesta was on about, but in reality Kesta had got it spot on. Eric's perusal of the club was an attempt to spot if Sveltish Indie Chick was out that night.

"Sveltish Indie Chick. She's not here," Kesta clarified. Not that any clarification was needed.

"Ar... right. To be honest I hadn't really thought about her," Eric replied. Like virtually all sentences containing the phrase 'to be honest,' this was a blatant lie.

"Yeah, right," Kesta smirked.

Eric just chuckled, before replying, "Actually, I'm sort of pleased that she's not out tonight."

"Yeah, course you are," Kesta replied, disbelievingly.

"Nar, honestly," Eric insisted. "Cos if she _was_ out then I would definitely bottle it, and then I'd be, like, totally annoyed at myself for being a complete feebloid. But cos she's not out that's okay cos it means circumstances are to blame for nothing happening – not my feebleness – and I can handle circumstances being to blame easier than I can handle my feebleness being to blame."

"Is Nine Out Of Ten out?" Hex inquired. He was eager to put a face to a name.

"Huh? Ar... I haven't really noticed, to be honest," Kesta lied.

"It doesn't look like she is," Eric stated, before adding, "Well, I haven't seen her anyway."I'm just gonna get a drink."

"Are you on the water again?" Kesta asked. "Or is that a stupid question?"

"Nar, I think I might go crazy and treat myself to a lemange juice tonight," Eric revealed.

"Woah! Are you sure that's wise?" Kesta joked. "You don't want to go _too_ wild."

Eric grinned and headed off to the bar.

"Hey, we definitely need to spike Eric tonight, like," Kesta suggested to Hex.

"Here, Kesta. You can't go round spiking people," Hex admonished. "That's totally out of order."

"Aye, but it's for his own good," Kesta argued. "He totally wants to score and it's never gonna happen if he stays sober."

"He'd notice the taste anyway," Hex pointed out.

"Not if I gave him saiju," Kesta reasoned. "That's pretty tasteless. And especially if I mixed it with an energy drink. All he'd taste is the energy drink."

"Look, if Eric doesn't want to drink then that's his choice," Hex asserted.

"Aye, you're right... I suppose," Kesta begrudgingly accepted.

His reply didn't contain the phrase 'to be honest', but if it had of done it would have provided a more accurate clue as to the sincerity of Kesta's response.

. . . . . . .

Flon Savion lay on his bed and contemplated what he had just learnt.

Eight billion Femlings were going to die.

In fact... eight billion Femlings were going to die!!!

Like... flip!

The entire population of Fem would soon be wiped out within a few years. At least, that's what Jixyl had just told him via an A.T.S. chat conversation.

Jixyl had explained all about the Telix-17 virus and how it was soon to start spreading throughout the Femling population.

Flon had raised the same point as Eric, namely, 'What about the ugly ones? Surely some of them will slip the net?'

Jixyl had eventually conceded this point, but remained insistent that the vast majority of the Femlings would soon be dead. The planet Fem would be decimated. All the variables were loaded against the Femlings. Furthermore, Eric was located on a holiday resort. And backpackers on a holiday resort are probably the least monogamous of any section of society, which was perfect for ensuring a rapid spread of the Telix-17 virus.

And even if, like Flon had pointed out, there were some Femlings that slipped the net, the cream of the Femling population, i.e. the fit young healthy energetic motivated creative Femlings, would most certainly not slip the net, as fit young healthy Femlings are the most attractive and therefore the ones that do the most snogging. So any Femlings that survived would almost certainly be the old, the very young, the weak and the unhealthy. In a nutshell, any survivors would be the percentage of the Femling population least likely to present a threat or to be able to defend themselves, so once the Telix-17 virus had decimated the majority of the Femlings, the worst case scenario is that a simple mop-up operation would be required to take care of the stragglers.

So at the end of his conversation with Jixyl, Flon was pretty much convinced that the Femlings were in trouble. Big trouble. On a scale of one to a hundred the Femlings were facing a trouble rating of seven hundred and fifty six.

And as a member of the Underground Anti-Fem League that should have brought Flon a great deal of satisfaction.

But it didn't.

Because, you see, Flon had only ever saw this Anti-Fem malarkey as a bit of a laugh.

To him, for example, it was a bit like the rivalry between Newcastle and Sunderland. Like, you want Sunderland to get beat and it's really funny when they get relegated and stuff, but at the end of the day you don't actually want anything bad to happen to any mackems because that would be crossing the line into the realms of evil. Singing, 'We hate Sunderland and we hate Sunderland. We hate Sunderland and we hate Sunderland. We hate Sunderland and we hate Sunderland. We are the Sunderland... haters,' at the match is just harmless banter, and harmless banter is fine. But crossing the line and hoping for actual bad things to happen in real life is another thing altogether.

And so this was a bit like the attitude Flon had towards the Femlings. He was all in favour of joining an anti-Fem group when he thought that all this entailed was making a few snidey comments about the Femlings, but when he discovered that the work of the group actually entailed the genocide of the Femling population, which, whichever way he looked at it was definitely a canny snidey thing to do, like, he was more than a little disturbed.

And so as he lay on his bed and contemplated the Femling's imminent fate he realised that he couldn't just let it happen. He had to do something to try and stop it.

But what? That was the question.

And no matter how much he racked his brains, he couldn't come up with an answer.

. . . . . . .

"Right, I've got one," Eric announced. "Would you rather be blind for a week or deaf for a month?"

"Deaf for a month," Kesta replied. The pair of them had by now moved on to the pool party and were slouched against the side of the pool.

"Deaf for a month?" Eric questioned, seemingly surprised at Kesta's choice. "But you couldn't listen to music."

"Aye, I know," Kesta acknowledged, "but if you were blind you couldn't see sights like that." Kesta nodded towards the centre of the pool where three extremely fit lasses were currently engaged in a three-way topless snog.

"Flip!" Eric exclaimed, clearly impressed with their snogging technique. "Aye, music's over-rated, like," he quickly concluded.

The two friends were transfixed by the sight for a few moments before Kesta eventually commented, "They're total attention seekers, like."

"Aye," Eric agreed, nodding thoughtfully, "although in my case I have say their search for attention has been very successful." Judging by the high number of attentive male eyes around the pool, it was safe to say that the three fit topless lasses' search for attention had been successful in a lot of other cases as well.

Before long though, Kesta arrived at the end of his drink and so decided to head off to the bar. "Do you want another drink?" he asked Eric.

"Aye, but it's my round," Eric replied.

"Don't worry about it," Kesta shrugged. "I'll get them in tonight and you can get them in tomorrow."

Tomorrow they would be back at Hang Out where the drinks were cheaper than at the pool party, so this was an arrangement that Eric readily accepted.

"Ar, cheers," he beamed. "I'll have another one of those energy drinks."

"No worries," Kesta remarked, and he headed off to the bar.

Eric wasn't usually that keen on energy drinks, as they usually left him feeling a bit shaky the next day, but it had been so long since he had last had alcohol that he decided he deserved a narcotic treat of some sort.

Besides, the energy drinks on Fem, Eric had discovered, were a lot more to Eric's liking than the energy drinks back on Earth. They had made him feel sort of light-headed and perhaps more confident. In fact Eric couldn't help noticing that it was a similar feeling to the feeling on Earth of being drunk.

The reason for this, of course, was because he _was_ drunk. Kesta had been spiking his drinks. But, as Eric had been tricked by Jixyl and Azleev into believing they didn't have alcohol on Fem, he was therefore not the slightest bit suspicious that his current state of mind might be caused by alcohol and simply assumed that the energy drinks on Fem must have different properties to the ones on Earth.

Eric watched the three-way topless snog for a few moments longer until the three lasses apparently decided that they had enjoyed enough attention for the time being and headed towards the side of the pool. Eric's gaze followed them across the pool until, suddenly, he lost all interest in the three topless lasses and became completely focused on something else.

Sveltish Indie Chick!

Like... excellent!

Sveltish Indie Chick was at the side of the pool!

Staring at Eric!

And she was smiling at him!

In fact she was beaming at him!

'Flip!' Eric thought to himself. But it wasn't a nervous 'flip', the way it normally would be. It was an excited 'flip'. For some reason he felt more relaxed than he usually would. 'Maybe it's the energy drinks,' he told himself.

And then things got even better. Sveltish Indie Chick started dancing towards Eric, her face still beaming happily.

'Flip!' Eric once again thought, again with excitement rather than nervousness. 'Sveltish Indie Chick is coming towards uz! And she's got a pure 'come on' face!'

Sveltish Indie Chick danced a few steps closer.

"Flip! This is my chance!' Eric thought. 'Don't mess it up. Don't mess it up. Don't mess it up,' he told himself.

And within a matter of seconds Sveltish Indie Chick had danced right up to Eric until she was standing right next to him, her face still beaming.

'Flip!' Eric thought to himself once again as she put her hand on his shoulder. 'Sveltish Indie Chick!'

He frantically racked his brains for something cool and impressive to say, but Sveltish Indie Chick spared him the bother as she spoke first...

"Hey, your mate is really sexy."

. . . . . . .

"Do you reckon it would put you off scoring with a fit lass if you knew she was an alien?" Garth asked Monty.

"That's a bit of a random question," Monty answered. "What prompted that?"

"Just with Eric being on another planet and having to snog loads of alien lasses and all that," Garth elaborated.

"Yeah, I was actually joking," Monty clarified. "I obviously know why you asked it."

"Ar, right," Garth muttered. "Well, would it?"

"I dunno," Monty shrugged. "Maybe a little bit."

"I think it would put me off," Garth opined.

"I doubt it'll put Eric off, though," Monty proclaimed.

"Why not?" Garth asked.

"Cos he's a horny little fucker," Monty remarked. "And it's been a few weeks since he last scored, so he's gonna be even less fussy than usual by now."

"Aye, true," Garth acknowledged.

"Plus, he always goes on about foreign lasses having more appeal cos of the exoticness and all that," Monty added. "So I'd imagine he'd see alien lasses as even more exotic and therefore more appealing."

As it turned out Monty's theory about alien lasses being more appealing to Eric was wide of the mark. Eric, in actual fact, found them no more appealing than the lasses on Earth. Unfortunately for the Femlings though, Eric found lasses on Earth very appealing indeed, and therefore Femling lasses likewise. In fact you could say that Monty's theory about Eric's lack of fussiness was a very accurate theory.

"So I think we're going to have to pin our hopes on Eric being a bottler without alcohol," Monty purported, "rather than him being fussy about scoring with aliens."

Unfortunately for the Femlings though, Eric was no longer without alcohol.

Which meant that he was therefore no longer a bottler.

Which in turn meant that the future of the Femlings looked rather bleak.

Chapter Eleven – Ants

Eric awoke from his sleep and looked across at Sveltish Indie Chick, or Elskar as he had now discovered her name was, asleep beside him. A big smile appeared on his face.

A myriad of thoughts ran through his head. On the one hand he was totally chuffed that he had finally become acquainted with the girl of his dreams. But on the other hand he couldn't help wishing he'd met Elskar under slightly different circumstances.

For starters, in an ideal scenario they'd have both been native to the same planet. And for seconds, he wouldn't have been carrying a disease that could potentially wipe out Elskar's entire species. Whichever way he looked at things, that wasn't ideal to the future of any potential relationship.

Elskar opened her eyes and an equally big smile appeared on her face.

"Alright," Eric greeted.

"Yeah, I'm better than alright," Elskar responded. "I'm great."

Usually when someone responded to an 'alright' by talking about how they were, Eric would explain that 'alright' wasn't actually an enquiry as to the general well-being of the asked person, and that it was just a Geordie way of saying hello, but in this particular situation he decided that it was probably best to ignore his usual response and instead return the compliment.

"Yeah, I'm great as well," he replied. Besides, the G.O.T. would have translated the sentiment behind his 'alright', rather than the literal meaning of 'alright', so maybe in this case he wasn't just saying hello. Maybe he was also enquiring as to Elskar's general well being. "It was excellent meeting you and all that." Then they cuddled up to each other with big smiles on their faces.

They had only been cuddled up for a few seconds when Eric noticed an ant crawling over the bed sheet, so instinctively he splatted it into the sheet with the tip of his finger.

Elskar rested her head on his shoulder. "That's the worst thing you can do," she remarked.

Eric looked confused for a moment. "Surely killing every living species on an entire planet is worse than killing an ant," he pointed out. He knew Elskar wasn't being literal so his reply was meant in a jokey manner, but he couldn't help feeling a pang of anger as he reminded himself of what he still believed were the Femlings' twisted intentions. But then Elskar playfully hit him and squeezed her breasts into his chest and the pang of anger was quickly replaced by a pang of something else.

Nevertheless though, it was a subject that had been niggling away inside Eric for quite some time now. And what made it worse was that Jixyl and Azleev had cautioned him not to mention the 'Quality Of Life' proposal to any Femlings, as it might potentially blow his cover if any Femlings sensed that he didn't support it quite as passionately as they did.

"I didn't mean it like that," Elskar clarified. "I just mean if you want to get rid of ants then to kill an ant is the worst thing you can do because it only attracts more ants."

"I've heard that before, like, actually," Eric admitted, "but is it actually true?"

"I think so," Elskar replied.

"Just cos, like, that seems a bit weird to me, like. Cos, like, nature's usually canny intelligent, like," Eric reasoned, "but to me that seems like a pretty gormless thing to do. Like, I can't understand how if you kill an ant he'd send out a signal to all his ant mates saying, 'Here, everyone. Come over here. It's class, like. This big dude splats you with his finger and you die.'

And then, like, all his ant mates go, 'Ar, aye. That sounds class, that, like. Here everyone, let's all go over there and get splatted.' And then they all go, 'Ar, right, aye. That sounds like a good idea, like.'

Like, why would nature do that? It'd be a bit of a snidey trick by nature if you ask me, like. Like, I mean it's basically saying that nature goes, 'Ha! Ha! I've thought of a lush snaky trick to play on some ants. I'm gonna make them all follow their ant mate that just got splatted, so that they all get killed as well. Ha! Ha!' Like, surely nature wouldn't be that snidey? Like, surely it would make more sense for nature to send out a signal saying, 'Here, ant dudes. Stay away from here, like. It's a bit rubbish over here cos you get killed. I reckon you should go somewhere else where you won't die and you get to stay alive and all that, cos staying alive is much better than dying, like.'"

Elskar just looked at Eric somewhat bemused at his choice of conversation.

"Just cos, like I say, usually nature's really intelligent," Eric continued. "Like for example, you're really attractive so all dudes would want to have sex with you... and that's nature being clever cos you're probably at the prime of your fertility so it makes sense for nature to make the most fertile lasses also the most attractive. Like, to ensure the survival of the species and all that.

But then, like, once a lass is pregnant nature doesn't have to make her attractive anymore. Once she's pregnant it's more important that she's safe and protected, so then nature makes dudes feel all protective towards pregnant lasses, rather than all horny, like.

So, like, usually nature is canny intelligent, like. Like, it's got its head screwed on properly, like. It's got its priorities straight.

So that's why I just can't understand why it would send loads of ants scampering to their deaths. Like, surely if anything it would warn them."

"It's just what I've heard," Elskar shrugged. She clearly hadn't given the subject as much thought as Eric had.

"Yeah, I've heard it before as well," Eric acknowledged. "I'm just saying though, just cos people say it, doesn't mean it's true."

Elskar, however, wasn't particularly bothered about ants. There was another subject that had been playing on her mind all night which she was far more interested in discussing. "Anyway, if you're saying I'm attractive and men want to have sex with me then how come you didn't try anything on with me last night?" she inquired, raising the aforementioned issue.

Eric wasn't expecting Elskar to ask him that question. He was far more comfortable talking about ants. But the question had now been asked so he couldn't just ignore it. The tricky thing was though, he wasn't exactly sure how to respond to such a question. Mainly because it wasn't a question he was often asked, as generally when a lass came back to his room with him he always tried it on. So this was new territory for him.

The reason why in this instance he had refrained from trying anything on with Elskar was obviously because of the Telix-17 virus. He realised that he had to snog lasses to save the Earth, or at least that's what he still believed, but on the other hand he really liked Elskar. And there was a part of him that was considering just saying, 'Ar, well. Tough crap on Earth,' and trying to start a proper relationship with Elskar. Obviously the fact that the moment he snogged her he would be signing her death warrant presented a bit of an obstacle to any future they might possibly have together, but he wasn't thinking logically.

"I mean it was really nice to just cuddle up," Elskar continued. "And it was really sweet... but it was a bit strange."

'Ar, nar!' Eric instantly thought to himself. 'The dreaded 'S' word.' Sweet. Just to clarify things. Not 'strange', although that was hardly ideal either. But 'sweet' was the frightening word. That was generally how a lass described you if she liked you but didn't fancy you. Obviously in this situation, given the discussions he had had with Elskar last night and given that Elskar was currently giving out the vibe that she wanted Eric to try it on with her, Eric was pretty sure that Elskar did actually fancy him, but it was still worrying nonetheless. All things considered Eric decided that in this instance the use of the 'S' word was probably Elskar's way of saying, 'Look, I fancy you at the moment but if you carry on being sweet for much longer you'll have missed your chance and I won't fancy you anymore.'

"Ar, like, don't worry. I definitely fancy you," Eric reassured her. "Like, you're totally lush and all that." He then became a bit paranoid that this might come across as being a bit over the top. "Well... I mean, like, you're really attractive and all that. But, like, obviously I haven't known you that long so I'm still canny chilled and all that, like." He shrugged his shoulders in an unsuccessful attempt to look chilled. "But given how long I've known you I'm really attracted to you. Like, I'd obviously noticed you kicking about before last night and I wanted to get to know you so I was chuffed when you came up to uz in the pool and all that."

"So how come you didn't try anything on?" Elskar repeated. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Ar, no," Eric quickly replied. But then he wondered if he had responded too hastily. Maybe a girlfriend would be a suitable excuse as to why he couldn't snog her. He quickly decided though, that it would also be a suitable reason as to why they couldn't have a relationship so he quickly dismissed it as an unsuitable line of patter to follow. "Nar, I'm single and all that."

"So what then?" Elskar quizzed.

"Ar, well... like, you're really fit and all that," Eric mumbled.

"You've already said that," Elskar pointed out.

"Ar, yeah, but, like... I'm just making sure you realise," Eric stuttered.

"I realise," Elskar responded, "so how come you didn't try anything on?" Eric stared back and racked his brains for a suitable answer. "You're not gay, are you?"

"Nar, course not!" Eric quickly replied.

"Just that would explain it," Elskar commented.

"Here, man. I'm not gay, like," Eric reiterated.

Elskar looked at him expectantly with wide eyes. "Well what then?"

"Well, it's just, like... cos I really like you and all that, I was, like... a bit nervous that you might knock uz back and then I'd be canny gutted and all that, so I reckoned if I just didn't make a move then I wouldn't be gutted," Eric mumbled. "Like, it's better to not try and not get bombed out than it is to try and get bombed out." Eric didn't actually believe this and actually believed the opposite, but given that he was having to think on his feet this was the best excuse he could come up with on the spur of the moment.

"You wouldn't have got bombed out," Elskar smiled.

Eric smiled back. "Ar, right. Excellent."

And then Elskar went to kiss Eric.

And Eric totally utterly wanted to kiss her back. But on the other hand he didn't want to sign her death warrant.

So he panicked. And he turned his head away.

And that was the point where Elskar started to get a bit annoyed.

"Look! What's up with you?" she snapped.

"Ar, I'm, er... just shy," Eric mumbled.

"You're not shy," Elskar disagreed. "You wouldn't shut up last night."

"Ar, em... I didn't mean shy," Eric stuttered. "I just meant... er, that other word. It's a bit like shy but not quite the same."

"Full of bullshit?" Elskar suggested. "Is that the word you're looking for?" By now she was starting to look a bit annoyed and Eric realised that if he didn't provide a satisfactory answer soon he might potentially totally blow things with her.

"Alright, like, er... I totally respect you and all that so, like, you deserve the truth and all that," he muttered.

Elskar looked at him expectantly. Eric took a big gulp.

"Right, so here's the truth..."

Chapter Twelve – Betting On Brazil

Eric took another gulp and pondered upon how best to tell his story to Elskar.

'There's the truth,' he told himself, 'and then there's _the truth_.'

But in the end Eric decided that 'complete blatant lies' was the more preferable option.

"Ar, right. Well, basically a few months ago I met this lass one night," he started, "and, like, I really fancied her." He suddenly decided that talking in such a positive manner to Elskar about another lass wasn't a great idea so he toned down his enthusiasm. "Well, I mean she was alright, like. Not lush or anything, like. But, like, pretty okay, you know.

Anyway, we started snogging and I was, like, 'Mmm, this is alright, like,' and, like, at first she was, like, sort of just at the right level of horniness. Like, it totally does my head in when you kiss a lass and it's a properly prudish kiss. But she was canny getting into it, like, which I was canny pleased about. But then, like, she started getting a bit wilder and like her hands were going everywhere, which obviously I was quite happy about as well."

Eric suddenly felt the need to tone things down again. "Like, only cos I was DQed up, though. Like, I wouldn't have been so into it if I was sober, like, cos she was nothing special.

But, like, then anyway it started getting to the point where I was starting to think, 'Hey, she's getting a bit wild here, like.' Like, she was really pressing her nails into my back and stuff.

And then, like, she must have just got so carried away with all the horniness that she properly bit my tongue. Like, _totally_ hard. Like, not just a playful nibble or nothing. Like, a proper full-on chomp.

And I was, like. 'Aargh! You've bit my tongue, you snide!' And she was all, like, 'Ar, soz. I didn't mean to. It was an accident.' And I was, like, 'Eh? An accident? Well... how can it be an accident, like? It must have been deliberate. Like, you can't just accidentally bite someone. Like, so you're just kissing away and then you just go, 'Oops, I've just accidentally bitten him with a full-on proper hard chomp. Oops! Silly me!' Like... nar, like. I don't think so.' And she was, like, 'No, man. I mean, I just got carried away and stuff. Like, soz.' And I was, like, 'Ar! It's knacking! Ar! My tongue!'

Actually, nar... I was all, 'Arf! Mu tunm! Uv bid mu tunm!' Cos it was really sore so I couldn't talk properly, like. So I was sort of speaking a bit funny, like.

And then, anyway... she was really sorry and all that, but that wasn't much help to me, like. Cos, like, it didn't matter how sorry she was, my tongue would have still been knacking. It was totally sore, like. So ideally she wouldn't have bit uz in the first place, rather than just biting uz and then acting all apologetic, like.

But anyway, since then I've been really paranoid about snogging and I haven't snogged a lass since, cos I've got this sort of phobia about snogging lasses now... just in case I get my tongue bitten again."

Eric looked at Elskar and tried to ascertain whether his attempt at placating her had been successful.

Elskar waited a few moments before a contented expression appeared on her face. "I'm not going to bite your tongue," she smiled.

"Ar, I know," Eric quickly replied. "Ar, aye. I wasn't saying that you're some mad crazy tongue-biter or nothing." He raised his hands defensively. "I was just saying that's what happened."

"But you don't have to worry cos I'm not like that other girl. I'm not going to bite your tongue," Elskar repeated.

"Yeah, I know," Eric once again acknowledged, "but it's not, like, a logical phobia. It's not rational or nothing. It's just the way my brain is now. Like, I've got a mental block about kissing.

Like, my mate doesn't like using the magnapod system and I said to him all about the excellent safety record and all that and he was, like, 'Ar, I know. It's just a weird fear I've got. It's not based on logic or anything. It's just an irrational phobia.' And that's like me now with kissing. I've got an irrational phobia of it since that lass bit my tongue."

Elskar smiled at Eric. "Well how about you kiss my neck, then?" she suggested. "There's no danger of your tongue getting bitten if you kiss my neck."

Eric thought for a moment. The Telix-17 virus was transmitted by saliva. Saliva to saliva. Not saliva to skin. Jixyl and Azleev had been quite clear about that. When he was undergoing his training they had stressed upon him the fact that it had to be mouth to mouth kissing. Kissing anywhere else was no good for passing on the virus. So kissing Elskar's neck would be totally safe.

"Aye, I think that would be okay," he smiled, with a beaming wide-eyed face. "Like, I just mean for my phobia and all that."

Elskar smiled back at him. And then she moved her neck towards him. And Eric started kissing it.

And that was the point where he made his big mistake.

Cos it was sort of similar to the following scenario:

Imagine for example that Eric had vowed not to have a bet on the World Cup Final. And then by a mad series of flukes Brazil end up playing The Faeroe Islands in the final. So then Eric decides, 'I'll just go into the betting shop but I won't have a bet. I'll just look at the odds but that'll be it.' So as he steps into the betting shop he still hasn't broken his vow.

And imagine if the bookies were feeling really tight. Imagine if they weren't accepting bets on Brazil and were only accepting bets on The Faeroe Islands at odds of ten to one on. Eric's vow would still be firmly in tact. At odds like that there'd be no danger of any temptation for Eric to break his promise.

But imagine now a slightly different scenario. Imagine if when Eric had gone into the betting shop the bookies had gone a bit loopy. Imagine they were offering odds of fifty to one for Brazil to beat The Faeroe Islands in the World Cup Final. In a situation like that Eric's vow would be dead and buried. Odds like that would be just too appealing to resist.

So in a situation like that the crucial moment wouldn't be when Eric filled in his betting slip and handed over his money to the cashier. That wouldn't be when he broke his vow. No, the crucial moment would come a lot earlier than that. The crucial moment would be when Eric first stepped into the betting shop. Because with a bet that lush on offer there was never going to be any chance of Eric sticking to his vow once he had entered the betting shop.

And kissing Elskar's neck was very similar to the situation I've just described. Except that, if anything, it was even better than the fifty to one bet on Brazil to beat The Faeroe Islands. Seriously, it was proper full-on totally lush, like. Not just the actual kissing of her neck either. It was the way it made Eric's entire body feel. Like, his whole body was totally tingling with rushes. Although actually, tingling isn't quite the right word. Like, if you imagine a tingle but over a much bigger area than a normal tingle. Well that's what it was like. Basically, he was on a complete utter high. And it was the sort of high where despite the fact that you feel totally lush, you're still not satisfied. You want an even higher high. And it's a very simple process to achieve the increased height that you want to reach.

So from the moment Eric decided to kiss Elskar's neck he was always going to bet on Brazil. It was just too good a bet to resist.

Not literally, obviously. I don't mean Eric started kissing Elskar's neck and then thought, 'Mmm, when I get back to Earth I'm going to have a bet on Brazil to win the World Cup Final.' I don't mean that. I was talking metaphorically. I wasn't talking about an actual real bet. Basically, what I meant is that kissing Elskar's neck was so lush that it was always inevitably going to lead to other things. Mebbees it would have been easier if I'd just said that rather than come out with all that long-winded patter about Brazil and the World Cup and stuff.

But anyway, kissing Elskar's neck was so lush that it was always inevitably going to lead to other things.

And that's exactly what happened.

It led to other things.

And so the Telix-17 virus claimed its second victim.

Chapter Thirteen – Eric And Elskar

Elskar looked bashfully across at Eric. "I hope you realise that I'm not normally that type of girl," she protested. "I don't usually do that sort of thing."

"Yeah, I don't either," Eric agreed. Then after a brief pause he added, "I would if I had the opportunity, though."

Elskar chuckled. Eric watched her chuckle. Her face was really nice when she chuckled. In fact, it was better than nice. It was totally lush. Although to be fair, Eric also thought her face was totally lush when she wasn't chuckling. So perhaps it was Elskar's face that was lush, rather than her chuckle being lush.

But having said all that about Elskar being lush, Eric couldn't help noticing that for some reason he didn't quite rate her as high as a nine point seven any more. She was still totally lush, obviously. But for some reason he would currently rate her as around about a nine point five. Maybe even only a nine point four. No, nine point four would be being harsh. She was still a nine point five. Or maybe she was only an eight point five. No, actually... what was he talking about? She was still blatantly a nine point seven.

Eric couldn't help noticing that his opinion of Elskar was quite erratic at the moment. She was still totally lush. But the degree of lushness seemed to be a very fluid quantity at the moment.

'Maybe that's just what happens when you score with a nine point seven,' Eric told himself. 'Maybe their rating swings about for a bit.' Eric had never scored with a nine point seven before so this was all new territory to him. In fact he had never even scored with a nine. And even eights were very rare occurrences. And that's no offence to the lasses that Eric had scored with cos he still definitely rated some of the lasses he had scored with. He was pleased with his CV. Admittedly, partly because he wasn't that ambitious but he was still pleased nevertheless. Ideally it would be a lot longer, but he was still quite pleased with the content, if not the length.

Anyway, the reason I'm making this point is to illustrate that this was new territory for Eric. If he had scored with nine point sevens on a regular basis then maybe he would be an experienced old hand at this sort of situation and he would realise that afterwards her rating fluctuates quite dramatically for a bit.

But he hadn't. So he didn't.

And it played on his mind. It seemed weird to him that Elskar – that's Sveltish Indie Chick – who seemed a set in stone nine point seven, could now have a variable rating. He couldn't understand how she could possibly drop, even just slightly, from her previously seemingly immovable lofty position.

"I'm just going to use the bathroom," Elskar remarked.

'Maybe it's discovering stuff like that,' Eric thought. 'Like, up until now she's just been a fantasy lass, but now I'm starting to realise that she's actually a real life lass who does stuff like use the bathroom.'

"It's that door there," Eric replied, nodding at the bathroom door.

"Yeah, I guessed," Elskar responded. The fact that there was only one internal door in Eric's room suggested her guess was probably the correct one.

"Ar, aye," Eric grinned. "There's only one door."

"Yeah," Elskar smiled back, and she opened the door and went into the bathroom.

And then, as Eric found himself alone in the room, he suddenly found himself thinking the same thoughts that any male would find themselves thinking in a situation like this.

Forty percent of his brain was contemplating how lucky he was to have just got his perv on with such a totally lush lass. And the other sixty percent was filled with an overwhelming need to brag about it.

So he picked up his G.I.N. unit and logged into A.T.S. 'I suppose I'd better let Jixyl and Azleev know about the progress of the mission,' he told himself, even though a more honest comment which more accurately reflected his actual feelings at that moment would have been, 'Yes! What a total belter! Wait until I tell my mates about this!'

He typed in his username and password and a few moments later his A.T.S. profile page appeared on the screen. He was about to go into his inbox when he noticed that he had thirty four notifications outstanding in his news feed.

'Flip! Thirty four notifications,' he mentally exclaimed. 'I suppose it's been a few days, like.' So he had a quick look at his notifications page first. Most of the notifications were just daft games and stuff which people were asking him to play, but a couple of the notifications were more interesting. Zonny had uploaded a load of photos from his time in Ko Pagna, for example. And Liquid Digital had announced that they were playing a one-off concert at the nearby island of Ko Calt, which pleased Eric as Liquid Digital were one of his favourite bands on Fem.

So Eric decided to have a quick look at Zonny's photos. And he also decided to enter a bid of one thousand and twelve credits for a ticket to see Liquid Digital.

There were also three friend requests. The first two were from a couple of dudes Eric had met and sort of half-knew from the Beach Soccer Tournament. But the third was from a really fit lass that Eric didn't recognise.

'Stella Gascrom?' Eric asked himself. 'Who's she?' He racked his brains but what made it all the more strange was that from her welcome message she reckoned she'd seen Eric around in Ko Pagna and yet he still couldn't recognise her, which was especially weird when you considered how fit she was.

Not that Eric was particularly good at remembering faces. In fact, truth be told he was quite rubbish at remembering faces. He was much better at remembering conversations. And he was also quite good at remembering clothes. Which is why he would have thought he would at least have had a vague recollection of seeing Stella Gascrom around, as she was dressed quite sharply in her profile photo. But no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't place her.

'I'll still add her as a friend though, obviously... cos she's fit and all that, like,' he told himself. 'I'll mebbees send her a message saying 'How's it going?' and bluff that I recognised her straight away and stuff.'

So he moved the cursor towards her name and was just about to click on her photo to bring up more details when Elskar came out of the bathroom.

Eric jumped. Only slightly, but enough for Elskar to notice. For some strange reason Eric instinctively found himself feeling guilty for feeling attracted to another lass in Elskar's presence, and he quickly moved the cursor away from Stella's name and looked up at Elskar in an attempt at nonchalance.

"Ar... alright," he shrugged. Elskar detected the subtle look of mild guilt in Eric's eyes as he then quickly clicked on 'log out'.

"Have you been looking at porn?" Elskar inquired.

"Porn? No. Course not," Eric replied, putting on a confused face which was intended to suggest to Elskar that she would have to be crazy to suggest such a thing. In actual fact, however, it just made him look even more guilty. "I was just looking up the football scores."

"It's just that you looked a bit guilty," Elskar observed.

Eric shook his head with an expression on his face that was meant to suggest that he was contemplating Elskar's comment to see if there was any reason why he might possibly look guilty. In actual fact, however, it simply just made him look even more guilty again. "No, I can't think of any reason why I would look guilty," he insisted, still shaking his head and scrunching his face up in a fake contemplative expression.

"I didn't realise there were any football games last night," Elskar commented.

"Well, I mean... I was just looking at the tables, you know," Eric shrugged, as he quickly logged onto the first football G.I.N. page he could think of. "And, like... the general football news."

"It's okay if you were looking at porn," Elskar smirked. "It's not like we're seeing each other or anything like that."

"Ar, I know," Eric agreed, "but I wasn't." He raised his hands in the Italian footballer gesture of protested innocence. "I mean... not that it's a big deal or anything. But you can check my browsing history if you want. Like, just out of curiosity obviously, cos I know you're not fussed."

"No, I don't care," Elskar replied.

"Ar, right. Well no worries," Eric shrugged, and he placed his G.I.N. unit down on the bed in what was meant to be a casual manner, but what was actual a deliberate ploy to ensure the screen was placed facing very exactly so that it was just in Elskar's field of vision enough for her to see that a football page was showing on the screen.

"Anyway, I'm going to leave now," Elskar remarked.

"Ar, right. Well, I'll, er... probably see you later then," Eric replied, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, see you later," Elskar agreed. There were then a few moments of silence. "Right then. I'm leaving now," she repeated.

"Aye, see you, then," Eric nodded. Then after another brief few moments of silence Elskar headed for the door and slowly left Eric's room.

And then Eric suddenly felt a bit stupid as he realised what he had done. "Man! What am I doing? It's Sveltish Indie Chick!" he remarked to himself. "You don't go, 'Right then. Mebbees see you later, then,' with Sveltish Indie Chick. You go, 'Right, well we'll _definitely_ see each other later,' and then you stress that it's a verbal contract and all that, and that it's fully enforceable in a court of law." He sniggered to himself. "Nar, man. You don't go that far. But you definitely make definite plans, like." Eric didn't make a habit of talking to himself but in extreme emotional situations, of which this was one, it did occasionally happen. "You definitely don't go, 'Right, then. Mebbees see you later,'" he reaffirmed. "So, like... ar, man! What a fool I am! I'm a complete muppet!" And then he quickly racked his brains for an excuse to run out after Elskar and start talking to her again.

He looked around his room for inspiration. The first thing his eyes came to was a packet of peanuts. 'Maybe I could ask her if those are hers,' he thought to himself. He quickly dismissed this idea, however, as being implausible to the point of making him look like a complete gormless fool. Because why would Elskar take a packet of peanuts with her to the pool party last night and then carry them with her all the way back to Eric's? That wouldn't happen. And even if it did then a packet of peanuts still wouldn't be a significant enough reason to run after her. So he decided he needed a better reason to run after her.

He quickly scanned the room until his eyes rested upon his watch. 'My watch!' he thought to himself. 'I can pretend it's not my watch and ask her if it's hers!' It was a sporty watch that at a push could possibly have passed as a unisex watch, so he grabbed the watch, dashed out of the room and ran down the lane after her. He was still in his boxer shorts but his hotel room was on a quiet secluded lane so nobody was about.

Luckily, Elskar had only made it a few metres down the lane so Eric was easily able to catch her up. "Ar, Sv... Elskar," he called out, just remembering her real name in the nick of time. Elskar turned around and smiled. "I think you must have forgotten this cos it's not mine," Eric lied. He then had a sudden mini panic attack as he realised that he really liked the watch and was therefore suddenly nervous that she might pretend it actually was hers and claim it for herself.

Luckily for Eric though, Elskar was a generally honest person. "No, I have my watch on," she replied, lifting her wrist up for Eric to see.

"Ar, right. It must be someone else's then," Eric shrugged. He then panicked that she might think it was another lass's. "Like, I mean... one of my mates," he added, raising his hands once again in the guilty Italian footballer gesture. "Not, like... well, just I mean, like, one of my mates, you know." Elskar looked at Eric with a smirk on her face, which made Eric feel the need to explain himself further. "But, like, I mean... a _male_ mate. Not a female mate. Don't worry, it's not a lass's." Elskar looked at Eric with a look of bemusement which once again made Eric feel the need to elaborate. However, he realised that right at this moment his patter wasn't that great and therefore it was probably best to keep quiet. His nervous tension soon got the better of him though, so he came out with, "Well, so anyway... it's not your watch?"

"No, it's not mine," Elskar confirmed. She then placed a thoughtful look on her face as she added, "Actually... are you sure it's not yours? I think I remember you wearing it last night."

'Ar, man. I've dropped myself in it here, like,' Eric thought to himself. 'She's sussed uz.' And for the first time he felt panic that was based on a realistic feeling. Nevertheless, on the spur of the moment he decided to carry on with the bluff. He studied the watch and furrowed his brow in a contemplative expression. "Nar, I don't think it's mine. Although... mebbees, like. My memory's not that great."

"I'm pretty sure it's yours," Elskar insisted. "You had one on just like it last night... and I think I've seen you wearing it before as well."

Eric realised he was totally sussed and decided to come clean. "Ar... right, well, er... aye, it's mine." Elskar gave him a confused look which seemed to say, 'then why did you ask me if it was my watch when it was clearly yours?' This filled Eric with an overwhelming urge to explain himself. "Well, just basically, I really like you and all that so... I dunno why I said 'mebbees see you later' cos what I really wanted to say was 'd'you fancy definitely meeting up later on to do something?' Like, as in _definitely_. Not as in mebbees. Just cos like I say, I really fancy you and all that." Eric then subconsciously did the guilty Italian footballer gesture once again. "Like, not in a full-on getting all heavy type of a way. Just in a chilled out way. But not, like... totally chilled out. Like, a canny lot... you know. Like, a lot as in the right amount of a lot. Not as in totally too much for how long I've known you. Just the right amount." Elskar was finding Eric's nervous tension amusing so she kept quiet in order to prolong his nervousness, and thus make him feel like he needed to carry on talking so that he would therefore carry on amusing her. "So anyway, that's why I asked you if it was your watch. Cos I just needed an excuse to run after you and make definite plans to see you again rather than just a loose 'mebbees see you later' type of arrangement. Cos 'mebbees see you later' arrangements are for lasses that are, like, sort of quite good but not exceptional. But you're..." He was about to say exceptional but realised that this might sound a bit full-on heavy so he racked his brains for a more chilled out word. "...like... well, much better than quite good. Like, you're, like... well anyway, do you fancy doing something later on?"

"You don't need an excuse to make arrangements to see me again," Elskar pointed out.

"Ar, yeah. I know," Eric mumbled. "But it was just, like, in the spur of the moment and I needed to think of a reason to quickly speak to you again. Like, sometimes when you've only got a brief second to make a decision you sometimes make a stupid decision. Like, actually... quite often in my case. Not just sometimes. So, like, obviously the best reason would have been to just come out and say that I like you, rather than asking you if my watch was your watch, cos obviously it's not your watch. It's my watch. But, like, I was just, like, totally nervous so my brain wasn't thinking logically so I didn't think of the most obvious excuse to talk to you which would have been just to say that you're sound and all that. Like, as in I'm saying 'sound' when really I mean much better than sound. Like, really good.

Like, so anyway, d'you fancy hanging out or doing something or something?"

In some ways it was lucky for Eric that he was talking to an alien lass that spoke a different language because it meant that a lot of his phrases which were quite clumsy in English, such as 'much better than sound', translated really well thanks to the G.O.T. Anyway, Elskar did fancy doing something. "Yeah, I'd like that," she replied. "So what do you want to do?"

If Eric was being totally honest then what he wanted to do was just spend the next two weeks cooped up in his room getting his perv on with Elskar, but he didn't want to present himself as being one-dimensional, so he tried to think of something else.

"You're not really into the beach, are you?" he quizzed.

"Not really," Elskar replied. "Well, not if you mean sunbathing. I like going down to the beach on a night-time to Hang Out, but sunbathing isn't really my thing."

"I thought, like, cos I don't think I've ever seen you on the beach during the day," Eric reflected, "apart from that one time when you were with your mate in front of the shop and you had your black vest top on with the white pattern down the side and them cool beach shorts that you wear. And..." Eric suddenly decided that going into any more detail probably wasn't a good idea. "Like... not that I'm a stalker or anything!" He quickly did the guilty Italian footballer gesture once again. "I just noticed you cos you were wearing cool clothes. That's all. I just tend to remember sharp clothes. If you'd only been wearing average clothes then I probably would have forgot... but you weren't. You were wearing excellent clothes." Elskar smiled at this so Eric added, "Well actually, you always wear excellent clothes if I'm honest."

"Thanks," Elskar thanked. "You wear nice clothes as well."

"Thanks," Eric echoed. "And, like, that's like a genuine thanks cos you've obviously got excellent taste. Like, if a lass that wore average clothes had of complimented my clothes I would have been 'Ar, thanks' but really I would have been thinking, like, 'Well, how would you know?' and I would only have been saying thank you out of politeness. But it's, like, a total compliment from you cos you've got excellent fashion sense."

"Thanks. So what do you want to do, then?" Elskar asked, getting back to Eric's original point.

"Ar, right... well, em..." In truth there wasn't that much to do in Ko Pagna. Eric's days consisted of sunbathing, eating and hanging out at The Hang Out Club. As Elskar had already ruled out sunbathing he moved onto food. "D'you fancy going for something to eat later on?"

"Yeah, have you been to Papaya Restaurant?" Elskar suggested.

Papaya Restaurant was an expensive restaurant by Ko Pagna's standards so Eric hadn't yet eaten there, partly due to his tightness and partly due to the fact that there were enough cheap restaurants serving really nice food that he felt he couldn't really justify going to an expensive restaurant when there wasn't really any need.

However, when Sveltish Indie Chick was part of the equation, price was no longer a deciding factor. "No, but I've heard it's really good, like," he replied.

"It is," Elskar confirmed. "Shall we meet there later on?"

And so they arranged a mutually agreeable time to meet, then Eric hugged Elskar goodbye. They smiled at each other, then she walked off around the corner and onto the main street.

"Yes!" Eric whispered under his breath, at a volume quiet enough so that Elskar wouldn't hear it. He danced into a robotic pose with his hands. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" he repeated, moving his hands robotically in synch with each 'yes'. He then exclaimed, "Com-plete chuffed-ness," with each syllable in sequence with a sort of a lopsided chicken dance. And then to complete his expression of joy he ran a few steps back towards his room then jumped in the air and did a flare kick, shouting out "Flare kick!" as he did so. He hadn't done a flare kick for several years so he was pleased that he managed to pull it off with the perfect balance of nonchalance and exuberance.

His pleasure was soon replaced by embarrassment, however, as he noticed that Elskar had returned from around the corner and had seen him perform his celebratory actions.

"Ar, hello again. I was just doing a flare kick," Eric explained.

"Right," Elskar smiled. "I've just thought, Papaya has two floors so shall we meet upstairs or down?"

"Em... upstairs?" Eric replied, in the tone of voice you use when you're answering a question and you half know the answer but you're half guessing.

"Okay, upstairs," Elskar agreed, then she headed off round the corner once again.

Once she was out of sight, Eric started chuckling. He had just embarrassed himself with his unusual celebrations but he was too happy to care. In fact he was so happy that he did another flare kick.

"Ar, chuffedness," he exclaimed to himself. "I'm seeing Sveltish Indie Chick!"

And for the moment he managed to overlook the fact that, thanks to his actions, in six months' time she would be dead.

Chapter Fourteen – The Guilt

Eric sat up and looked at the lush sea. Then he looked around him at the lush beach. Then he looked at the lush Sveltish lasses lying on the lush beach. Then he looked at the lush baps on the lush Sveltish lasses. Then he looked up at the lush blue sky. Then he looked at the lush baps on the lush Sveltish lasses once again, just to refresh his memory. Then he looked behind him at the lush palm trees. Then he looked behind the palm trees at the lush limestone cliffs. Yes, life was certainly lush.

Or at least it should have been. Especially when he had a date with Sveltish Indie Chick to look forward to that evening.

But no matter how he tried, Eric couldn't get away from the fact that in six months' time Sveltish Indie Chick would be dead.

Gutter!

And what made it even worse was that it was he that had sealed her fate.

Double gutter!

So he tried to tell himself that technically he wasn't to blame. Technically it was the Femlings' fault for being evil planetocidal maniacs. If the Femlings had of been sound then he wouldn't have had to kill them all with the Telix-17 virus.

So if it wasn't his fault then how come he felt like a total snide? 'Why couldn't saving the Earth involve something different?' Eric asked himself. 'Why couldn't it have followed the traditional 'shoot a missile into a two metre exhaust shaft' scenario? Or better still, why couldn't it have still involved all the 'living it up on a lush beach resort' parts of the plan, and just missed out the 'wipe out the entire population of Fem' part of the plan?' That way he would still get to enjoy a totally lush lifestyle but he wouldn't have to deal with all the guilt.

Because the guilt had kicked in big-style now. The euphoria of the morning was well and truly over. And to Eric, that didn't seem fair. He was only saving the Earth. It wasn't his fault the Femlings were snides. It wasn't his fault they had to be eliminated in order to save the Earth. He was just doing his duty. So why did he have to feel guilty?

The answer was simple. It was because, in general, the Femlings were totally sound. Part of this perhaps was because everyone he met here was on holiday and people are always much happier on holiday. But even allowing for the increased soundness of being on holiday, the Femlings were still a totally sound bunch of people. Apart from the ref in the Beach Soccer Tournament, obviously. Any fool could see that it was blatantly a handball in the build-up to that dodgy goal. But apart from that dodgy ref, Eric couldn't think of a single snidey Femling.

That's what just didn't seem to make sense. Why would they want to kill an entire planet when they were so sound? It was just totally crazy. But that was the way it was. So that was why the Femlings had to be eliminated. Self-defence. Kill or be killed. And self-defence, as Jixyl had told him, was an admirable quality. Because if all the nice people just let the evil people kill all the nice people all the time then eventually there'd be no nice people left. Just evil people. And that would be totally rubbish. A galaxy full of nothing but evil people would be a completely rubbish scenario. So self-defence was necessary. And admirable.

But right at this moment Eric most definitely didn't feel admirable. He felt like a total snide. Which of course, he was, because he had just kicked loose the first few stones of a potential avalanche of catastrophe.

Fortunately for Eric, however, Kesta turned up right at this moment to temporarily distract him from any further wallowing in self-pity.

"Alright, where did you get to last night?" Kesta asked.

"Ar, it was canny mad, like," Eric replied. "I met Sveltish Indie chick."

"Nice one!" Kesta exclaimed. "And you mean, like, you actually spoke to her?"

"Aye... well, she spoke to me actually," Eric clarified, pedantically. "But I spoke back obviously. Like, it was a two-way conversation, but she initiated it."

"So what was her opening line, then?" Kesta quizzed.

"Ar, it was canny funny, like," Eric commented. "The first thing she says was, 'Hey, your mate's totally fit, like.'"

"Ar, so she's Georgish, then?" Kesta joked. "I thought she was Sveltish."

"Well, nar... she didn't obviously literally say, 'Hey, your mate's totally fit, like,'" Eric clarified. "She said it in a Sveltish accent obviously. But anyway, when she said that about Hex I was, like, 'Ar, gutter. She's just using me as a stepping stone to get to Hex.'"

"How did you know she wasn't talking about me?" Kesta inquired.

"Just cos you were away at the bar at the time," Eric explained, "and she was looking in Hex's direction." Not to mention the fact that Hex was blatantly the most likely of the three to be described by a lass as totally fit. "But anyway, I was canny gutted at first, like, but then when I looked at Hex he was getting it on with her mate, so then I realised she was just, like, saying good on her mate. So then I was, like, 'Ar, and good on my mate as well... cos your mate's canny fit as well. But, like, not as fit as you.' And then anyway, that started a round of mutual compliment paying and we ended up walking back to my room."

"Ar, nice one," Kesta congratulated. "So you've finally broke your duck."

"And with my number one choice as well," Eric pointed out. "Mad, eh?"

"Aye, life's like that sometimes, though," Kesta mused.

"Well... not for me it's not, like," Eric remarked. "Well, not usually anyway. Or at least, not as often as I'd like."

"Maybe it's the start of a decent run of form," Kesta suggested.

"I think I just want to see Elskar again, though," Eric revealed, in an almost apologetic tone of voice. "Like, if I had of scored with some random lass then I would have been thinking, 'Right, this is the springboard to a period of variety. But with Sveltish Indie Chick... well, like... I really like her, you know."

"I think she probably likes you as well if she initiated it," Kesta theorised.

"Aye, it was mad how she initiated it, like," Eric commented. "Realistically though, that was the only way it was ever going to happen without uz drinking DQ."

Kesta grunted non-committedly and glanced shiftily to the side.

"Aye, anyway... did _you_ have any luck last night, then?" Eric asked.

"Nar," Kesta shrugged. "It was still a good night, though."

"Aye, it was, like," Eric agreed.

At this point Hex strolled up beside his two mates.

"Alright, how's it going?" he greeted.

"Aye, good," Kesta answered. "Eric broke his duck."

"Yeah, I heard," Hex replied.

"You heard? How did you hear, like?" Eric questioned.

"Cos the lass I was with noticed you slinking off with her mate," Hex explained.

"It was Sveltish Indie Chick as well," Eric bragged. "Class, eh?"

"Ar, excellent," Hex congratulated.

"So anyway, what was her mate like?" Kesta inquired of Hex.

"Quality," Hex enthused. "Amazingly lush legs, like."

"She's got black candy floss hair as well, hasn't she?" Eric quizzed.

"Candy floss hair?" Hex queried, slightly confused.

"Like, not _literally_ candy floss hair," Eric clarified. "But you know that type of hair that some Sveltish lasses have where it's really fine and sort of like candy floss."

"Ar... yeah," Hex concurred. "I suppose." Hex was clearly more impressed by her amazingly lush legs than by her hair.

"Anyway, are we getting the tunes on?" Kesta prompted. Hex's ts4 player had been playing up so they were currently reliant on Eric for supplying the tunes.

"Yeah, a bit of Random Capitalisation?" Eric suggested.

"Good choice," Kesta endorsed.

"Yeah, top band," Hex agreed, nodding approvingly at Eric's suggestion.

So Eric got out his ts4 player and selected Random Capitalisation's new album, then the three friends laid back and enjoyed that winning combination of sunshine and music.

But within seconds Eric's mind was back once again thinking about his actions that morning. And annoyingly it wasn't the enjoyable bits that his mind seemed keen to focus on. It was the guilt. The fact that his number one lass would soon be dead. So Eric tried to nudge his mind in the right direction by actively recalling some of his favourite enjoyable bits from the morning, and replaying them over in his head, but it didn't do any good. His mind seemed set on being a snide to him. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the enjoyable bits, his mind had its heart set on focussing on the guilt. Except that now it was the guilt. Font size 12 wasn't big enough to describe it properly. It needed to be at least font size 30. Because this was some seriously big guilt. Eric had never felt this guilty before in his entire life. And all he had done was save the Earth. It didn't seem fair. He didn't ask for this to happen. He just stumbled upon it. Or rather, _it_ stumbled upon _him_.

'Man. I knew I shouldn't have hiked up Helvellyn,' he told himself, thinking back to when he first met Jixyl and Azleev. 'I was originally just gonna spend the whole day recording some tunes until Monty came up with the daft idea of going for a hike. It's his fault. If it wasn't for Monty I would never have even been here in the first place. So he's the one that should feel guilty. Not me.' But this rather feeble attempt at logisticising his guilt away failed miserably.

And then Eric felt a feeling that made him feel nostalgic. He felt the urge to play the guitar. And the urge to get fit. And also the urge to learn Japanese. Quite a weird combination admittedly, but this reminded him of how he would always feel when he was younger in the morning after the first few times he scored. When he first started scoring he would initially be left with a strong urge to play the guitar. Then a couple of hours later he would then feel the need to improve his life by getting fit. And then for reasons he wasn't entirely sure of, he would also feel the need to learn Japanese. Maybe it was just because scoring was basically a shallow pursuit, whereas playing the guitar and getting fit and learning a foreign language are positive activities with long term benefits. So maybe it was the pendulum effect. In the same way that alcoholics sometimes become teetotal, maybe doing something really shallow left you with an urge to do something with a purpose. So maybe by the same principle, obliterating the entire population of a planet left you with an overwhelming need to do something massively beneficial to mankind.

Like getting fit.

And playing the guitar.

And learning Japanese.

Hmm... Maybe not. But whatever the reason, that was the way Eric now found himself feeling. He needed to exercise. And he needed to strum. And he needed to learn Japanese.

But given that there were no native Japanese speakers on Fem, and given that even if there were, people could just use G.O.T. to communicate with them, there were therefore unsurprisingly no Japanese books available on Fem. So Eric was stuck when it came to learning Japanese.

Likewise with playing the guitar. Ko Pagna was a relatively small island with only a small village with a very limited selection of shops and therefore no musical instrument vendors. So again Eric was stuck when it came to playing the guitar.

So that left getting fit. "I think I might go for a jog later on," he announced. Back on Earth he exercised a fair bit and was generally in pretty good shape, and he had intended to continue this when he arrived on Fem, but since his arrival exercise had fallen well down the pecking order below partying it up and generally having a good time.

"What do you wanna do that for?" Kesta asked, derisively.

"To get fit," Eric explained.

"Nothing wrong with jogging," Hex interjected.

"Apart from it's a bit sad," Kesta remarked.

"You see, for someone like you I can see why that might be a bit of a problem," Eric replied. "But I've got enough coolness in the bag to do the occasional sad activity and still remain well above the cut-off point for coolness."

Kesta just laughed and rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand at Eric.

"I might go for a jog as well later on if you fancy tagging along," Hex offered.

"Aye, could do, like," Eric agreed. "How far do you go?"

"I normally run along Sunrise Beach, then up past Dolphin Resort until you get to Moonshine, then cut through Moonshine onto Sunset Beach, then along Sunset Beach to the lighthouse then back to my hotel," Hex described.

"You can get to Sunset Beach through Star Resort, you know," Kesta pointed out. "You don't have to go all the way along to Moonshine. Just if you wanted a shortcut."

"I don't think you've quite grasped the concept of jogging, like, Kesta," Eric mocked. "It's not about taking shortcuts. It's about running as far as you can. Cos, like, if jogging was about taking shortcuts you could just run across the road and back and then be all, like, 'Ar, that was a class jog, like. It was just one big massive shortcut.'"

"No, man. I just meant if you didn't want to go all the way up to Moonshine then I was just saying you can get through to Sunset Beach through Star Resort," Kesta protested.

"I'm happy doing the distance I do," Hex answered.

"But thanks for the tip, though," Eric smirked. "If I ever decide to redefine the concept behind jogging then I'll probably take your advice."

"Here, man. I was just trying to be helpful," Kesta snapped, shirtily.

Hex and Eric finalised their plans for their jog later on then the three friends settled back once again into a relaxed session of sunshine and music.

And then Eric found that his overwhelming urge to do something to help mankind returned once again. And in principle Eric was all in favour of acting upon this urge. The only trouble was though, that Eric generally just preferred doing stuff for himself all the time rather than doing stuff to help other people. Like, he was a firm believer in charity and all that, but just when other people did it. He wasn't that keen on actually doing it himself. He had better things to do. So in an ideal world it would be other people doing the charity work and all Eric would have to do would be to think, 'Yes, well done. I commend you for your efforts.' So that sort of poured cold water on his urge to do something to benefit mankind.

But in any case, he had just saved mankind from obliteration by the Femlings, so surely that was enough. Surely that should satisfy his urge. But then he realised that he had actually misread his urge. It wasn't mankind he needed to do something for. It was the Femlings. Sort of by way of an apology. It was sort of a 'Soz for obliterating yous out of existence and all that, but here's a gift by way of an apology' type of an urge.

But what could he do? That was the question. What would make up for wiping out their entire population?

The answer was simple.

Nothing.

So there was no point stressing about it. There was nothing Eric or anyone else could do to make up for initiating the obliteration of an entire species. Nothing whatsoever.

At least, that was what Eric believed as he lay there on Ko Pagna Sunrise Beach listening to tunes in the sunshine.

But Eric's beliefs, like many peoples, weren't always a hundred percent accurate.

Chapter Fifteen – An Honest Representation Of Eric's Feelings

Eric always felt good after a jog. And today was no different. He felt good. Really good. The guilt from earlier in the day had pretty much worn off by now. And an excitable buzz had taken its place. Not quite to the extent of the euphoria he felt that morning, but he still felt pretty good nevertheless. It was as if his emotions were on a pendulum at the moment.

'Ah... luscious endorphins!' he thought to himself, as he cooled off in the shower. 'Luscious endorphins from a luscious jog. And now a luscious meal with luscious Sveltish Indie Chick to lusciously look forward to.' Quite a common feature with Eric was that when he felt really good his vocabulary apparently narrowed quite considerably. 'Luscious lusciousness!' he thought to himself, rubbing his hands together. In actual fact however, it was the range of emotions he felt which narrowed, not his vocabulary. His reduced vocabulary merely reflected the reduced range of emotions he was feeling.

He emerged from the shower and headed to his wardrobe to choose his outfit for the evening. The standard rule he would usually follow was pretty straight forward. For a cool lass with cool fashion sense if you wanted to impress her you had to dress cool yourself. Or for a lass who tended to dress sexily, but not particularly cool, it was more important to focus on trying to score and therefore, for example, wearing a fitted t-shirt to highlight your tonedness was always a good idea. It was highly likely that any attempt to highlight your coolness to a sexily dressed lass would be wasted on her, as she would be more focussed on a person's sexiness rather than his coolness, so you had to dress with that in mind.

But in Sveltish Indie Chick's case Eric wanted to both impress her and arouse her. He had been feeling horny all day. Even during the peak of his guiltiness there was still a fair chunk of horniness lurking around in the background. So ideally he wanted the date to end with a repeat of this morning. But he also needed to impress her by dressing cool and that presented a problem. Generally speaking cool clothes tended to be slightly baggy, whereas sexy clothes tended to be a bit tighter. So what to go for? What mattered most? Arousing her or impressing her?

'I have to say, coolness is over-rated, like,' Eric decided, as he realised he was more bothered about arousing Elskar than impressing her, and he therefore opted for a fairly snug fitting dark blue t-shirt with the words 'style therapist' emblazoned across the front. He then had second thoughts though, and realised he didn't want to completely forego coolness and so in the end decided to also go for a pair of anti-fit jeans as a sort of a compromise. It was probably a bit of a mixed look but he decided he wanted to hedge his bets and cover all bases.

So he carried his chosen outfit over to his bed and was about to get ready when he noticed something strange. Something quite significant. 'Flip!' he thought to himself.

The bed was covered in ants. Not the entire bed. Just around the area where he had splatted that ant earlier that morning. 'Ar, excellent!' he immediately thought. It probably seems a bit strange that he should be pleased to discover his bed was covered in ants but his subsequent thoughts better explained his reasoning. 'Class! Elskar was right! Lasses love being right, so when I tell her she was right it'll get uz a total load of brownie points straight off the belt!' He then danced over to his table and picked up a piece of paper, then danced back to his bed and spent a few moments splatting all the ants with the paper. 'But, like, not excellent that my bed is covered in dead ants, like,' he clarified to himself. 'That's a bit rubbish admittedly... but definitely worth the brownie points, like.'

And so once he was ready Eric then set off for Mango Restaurant to cash in his brownie points with Elskar. He arrived five minutes early which he knew wasn't very cool and all that, and ideally it would have been better to stroll up a few minutes late, but being fashionably late was what you did when you were fairly chilled about a date. And Eric was very definitely not chilled. He was extremely excited about meeting up with Sveltish Indie Chick. And since his episode that morning where he had initially used his watch as a fake excuse to run after Elskar before subsequently coming clean, he had decided that from now on honesty was the best policy. No more lying. From now on he was going to be totally straight with Elskar about everything.

Apart from the whole 'I'm only here to wipe out your entire species' thing, obviously. He wasn't going to be honest about that, obviously. All things considered it was probably best that he didn't mention that small detail. Telling Elskar about his true purpose on Fem probably wasn't the best strategy for a successful date. But apart from the fact that he was only there to wipe out the entire Femling population, Eric was going to be totally honest from now on.

And that honesty was even going to extend to his behaviour. Even his body language. So that was why he decided to turn up five minutes early. Turning up a few minutes late would give out the vibe that he was canny chilled about meeting up with Elskar and he most definitely wasn't canny chilled. He wasn't even slightly chilled. He was extremely excited about it. And a little bit nervous. And turning up five minutes early gave out the vibe that you were excited to be there and that the date was important to you, so that was why he decided to turn up five minutes early. To ensure his behaviour conveyed an honest representation of his feelings.

He had even considered turning up ten minutes early but rejected this idea on the grounds that it would give out the vibe that you were a bit sad and needy and didn't have much of a life if you could afford to waste ten minutes just waiting around. So he eventually decided upon five minutes.

He found a seat upstairs as agreed, then sat perusing the menu for a few minutes. Truth be told it was all a bit too posh for his liking. It was the type of restaurant where they didn't just serve normal food. Every meal had to have a fancy twist to it. Like some fancy sauce. Or a fancy side-plate. Or when a normal meal did appear on the menu they couldn't just call it by its normal name. They had to spruce the name up. For example, they couldn't just call chops, chops. They had to call them 'a sizzling trio of slow-cooked bemus chops, served in a mouth-watering black pepper sauce'.

Eric had nothing against restaurants like this, other than the price, but it wasn't somewhere he would normally eat. But obviously if it meant hanging out with Sveltish Indie Chick he would eat anywhere. Even somewhere as expensive as Mango Restaurant.

By five past eight Elskar still hadn't turned up, however, which Eric was a bit disappointed about. If she was turning up fashionably late then that meant she was pretty chilled about the date, and not as excited as Eric, which he was disappointed about. Or maybe she _was_ as excited as Eric, but wanted to act like she was chilled, even though she was actually excited. This wasn't ideal either as Eric found it difficult enough trying to read the vibes of lasses with honest body language, so having to translate the vibes from a lass with fake body language into her actual true sentiments was going to be even harder. But nevertheless, fake chilled vibes were still a more preferable option than her not being that fussed about the date.

After a few more minutes a waiter asked him if he was ready to order yet, and although Eric was feeling quite hungry he nevertheless managed to send him away for a few more minutes, to wait for Elskar to turn up.

By quarter past eight though, Eric was starting to get really hungry and was really tempted to order himself a starter. He realised though that this wasn't the etiquette you were supposed to follow when you were meeting a lass for your first official date, and it would make him look like a total fool if she turned up and he was already tucking into his food. But after another couple of minutes he started to weigh up in his mind what was the most undesirable option between looking like a fool or being hungry, and decided that he could handle being a fool with a satisfied stomach more than he could handle being a hungry non-fool, so he decided to order. After perusing the menu more closely though, and more specifically the prices, Eric decided that he wasn't that hungry after all, and he'd skip the starter and just stick to a main course once Elskar finally showed up.

But then after another five minutes Elskar still hadn't arrived. And then after a further five minutes Eric started to tentatively contemplate something that he really hoped he was wrong about. But then after another five minutes he finally gave in to common sense and acknowledged what he had already suspected.

Elskar wasn't going to turn up.

She was half an hour late. There's 'fashionably late' and there's 'not turning up at all' and this was clearly the latter.

'Gutter,' he thought to himself. Being bombed out would normally merit an exclamation mark on his 'gutter' but he liked Sveltish Indie Chick so much that being bombed out by her had completely knocked the stuffing out of him so much that he couldn't even muster the enthusiasm for an exclamation mark. 'Total gutter,' he added to himself, and that was the total extent of the limit of what he could manage to exclaim. The emotional pendulum that had been swinging all over the place so far that day had now swung in the direction of utter dejectedness.

So it was all he could do to get up from his seat and head out of Mango Restaurant. This attracted the attention of the same waiter who had tried to serve him earlier, and he rushed up behind Eric.

"Sir, did you wish to order now?" the waiter inquired.

Eric looked down at his feet, then back into the restaurant, then down at his feet once again, before looking up at the waiter. "Clearly not," Eric observed.

"Sir, you can't just take a seat for half an hour and then leave without ordering," the waiter commented.

Eric looked back into the restaurant once again, then down at his feet, then back into the restaurant for a final time, before looking at the waiter once again. "Well I clearly just have, like," he pointed out. "So I clearly can. So you're clearly wrong."

The waiter wasn't sure what to say to this so Eric headed off up the street without further comment from the waiter.

'Ar, total gutter!' Eric thought to himself. By now enough of his emotions had returned to allow him to muster up an exclamation mark. 'I can't believe it. Bombed out by Sveltish Indie Chick. My worst nightmare.'

The one consolation for Eric was that he sort of deserved it. Given that he had given Elskar the Telix-17 virus which would ultimately cause the obliteration of her entire species, and she had merely stood him up, he had to admit that he had arguably got off the lightest. 'And I suppose it means I can focus on the mission again now,' he thought. Since his encounter with Sveltish Indie Chick, Eric had basically lost all interest in scoring with other lasses, and thus in saving the Earth. At least for the five months he believed Elskar would still be alive and healthy. 'Maybe the mission can wait a while,' he had told himself.

In general Eric wasn't very big on monogamy. It just seemed like such a waste. Like, for example, you wouldn't order a Big Mac every time you went to McDonalds. Sometimes you might fancy a McChicken Sandwich. Or maybe a Filet-O-Fish. And perhaps one day you might fancy a McFlurry with your meal, whereas the next time you might prefer a Cappuccino McDonut.

And it was the same with lasses. Except that you didn't get special offer vouchers for lasses in the papers, alas. But anyway, by the same logic, why would you stick with the same lass all the time? It didn't make any sense.

At least in normal circumstances it didn't. But Sveltish Indie Chick wasn't just a normal lass. Sveltish Indie Chick was a special case. Sveltish Indie Chick was a Big Mac, McChicken Sandwich and Filet-O-Fish all rolled into one. Actually, that's not a very flattering comparison so I'll stick to straightforward descriptions, rather than unflattering metaphors. Sveltish Indie Chick ticked all the right boxes and more. Yes, she was good looking and had a fit body and cool fashion sense and all that, but on top of all that she was Sveltish. _And_ an Indie chick. Like, what were the odds of that? Sveltish _and_ an Indie Chick! That was, like, the perfect lass! So Eric would have happily given monogamy a try for the perfect lass. Even if it meant putting the survival of every species on Earth at risk. It was a high price to pay but if it meant being with his perfect lass for five months then that was a price that Eric was, perhaps a little selfishly, willing to pay.

But now the perfect lass had bombed Eric out. And just when he was starting to think about her in an exclusive manner. But now the thoughts of exclusiveness were quickly evaporating. Eric was starting to think about the mission once again. And not, if he was honest, to save the Earth. Eric was starting to think once again about the mission purely as a coping mechanism to help him deal with the complete guttedness he felt at getting bombed out by his perfect lass.

'Yeah, I have to think about the mission,' he told himself. 'That's why I'm here. To save the Earth. Five self-indulgent months with Sveltish Indie Chick would have been nice, but realistically it would have been a little bit selfish to put the survival of every single species on Earth at risk just for the sake of a crush on a totally lush lass. Just for the sake of a crush on a totally lush _Sveltish_ lass. A totally lush Sveltish _indie chick_. A totally lush Sveltish indie chick with her bottom lip pierced twice.' Eric pictured her in his head. 'Ar, gutter.' He shook his head.

And then he started to think about the forthcoming evening down the beach. 'I totally need to score, like. It's the only way to get Sveltish Indie Chick out of my head. I need to remind myself that there's loads of other fit lasses here.' He shook his head again. 'Ar, and as an added bonus it'll mean I'm saving the Earth as well,' he told himself.

So he headed home and lay on his bed for a couple of hours, all the time trying to think about the mission instead of his rejection. And gradually the first few seeds of a new emotion started to sprout up inside him. A very powerful emotion. An emotion that meant he had far more chance of succeeding on his mission now, than when he was motivated by compassion for Earth, or horniness for himself. For this was an emotion that can motivate people into doing things that they normally wouldn't have the courage to do. An emotion that meant the Femlings were in big trouble.

Anger.

Chapter Sixteen – The Magic Banana

Eric looked down at all the dead ants on his bed and shook his head in disbelief at the stupidity of nature. "You kill one and loads more come running to their deaths," he reflected. "The crazy fools."

All the dead ants couldn't help but make Eric feel a bit nervous and shaky, as they reminded him of why he was actually here on Fem. "Well, time to head down to Hang Out," he mused. He had went to Hang Out almost every night for the last couple of weeks, but never with the same sense of nervousness and trepidation. Cos tonight felt different for some reason. Every night before now he sort of knew deep down, or at least very strongly suspected, that he wasn't going to score.

But tonight felt different. Tonight felt like it was his time. It was just a feeling he had, but it was a very strong feeling, and a feeling that wouldn't leave him alone. Much like his guilt earlier in the day, it kept niggling away inside him. So Eric reminded himself that he hadn't expected to score at the pool party, but he had been wrong then, so maybe the feeling he had now would prove to be wrong as well. But he wasn't convinced by this reasoning. It probably sounds stupid, but he just couldn't get away from the powerfulness of the feeling he had. Which was why he couldn't help feeling a little bit scared. Not excited like he was when he first arrived. Just scared.

And when he arrived at Hang Out a few minutes later it must have been showing in his body language because Kesta picked up on it straight away. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You look a bit funny."

"Ar, I'm just a bit gutted cos Sveltish Indie Chick bombed uz out," Eric revealed. "She didn't turn up." It was true, he was still quite gutted about being bombed out, but that wasn't what Kesta picked up on. Kesta had noticed Eric's nervousness, not his guttedness.

"Ar, gutter," Kesta sympathised. "Have you asked her why she bombed you out, then?"

"Well, nar. Cos she didn't turn up," Eric repeated. "Like, so I couldn't ask her. Like, if she had of turned up then I could have asked her why she'd bombed uz out, but then if I was, like, 'Ar, how come you bombed uz out, then?' when she had turned up she would have been, like, 'Well, I haven't bombed you out, you fool. I've turned up.' But she didn't turn up... hence I couldn't ask her."

"I mean, like, have you not asked her since... cos, like, she's standing over there, like," Kesta pointed out, nodding in Elskar's direction.

Eric's face lit up. "Where?" he asked, as he looked in the direction of Kesta's nod.

"Over there on the steps," Kesta answered.

"Flip!" Eric exclaimed. "I should ask her why she bombed uz out."

"Aye, that's what I've been saying," Kesta replied. "You see. I wasn't being stupid."

"Ar, aye. Soz," Eric apologised. "I thought you were just being a bit gormless but it turns out I was the gormless one."

"Aye, I know," Kesta agreed. "So are you gonna ask her?"

Eric pulled a face. "Ar, well... like, really, if a lass bombs you out and then you still go and speak to her then that sort of means you've got no self-respect," he remarked. "But on the other hand, luckily for me I'm quite comfortable having no self-respect, like. So I might as well ask her, like."

"Yeah, you never know. She might have a good reason," Kesta suggested, optimistically.

So Eric took a deep breath then headed over to the steps to speak to Elskar. She was facing the beach so he approached from behind her. As he arrived at her side he tapped her arm and began his inquiry. "Alright, I was just wondering if something came up or..." But before he could even get his sentence out Elskar had turned her back on him and started talking to her friend.

Eric was about to lean round to ask her again, just in case she had got confused in some way, but then realised that he'd be wasting his time. She had completely blanked him and therefore obviously had no desire to talk to him. Not only that but her face was very annoyed looking, so she was obviously in a totally bad mood with him for some reason. So he trudged dejectedly back to Kesta.

"I take it, it didn't go very well, then," Kesta inquired. By now Hex had also arrived.

"Hey, lasses are complete idiots, like," Eric exclaimed. "No offence to them. But they are, like. They're complete idiots."

"Why, like? What's she done?" Hex asked.

"Well... first she didn't turn up at the restaurant," Eric recalled. "And then I just went to ask her why she bombed uz out and she completely blanked uz! She didn't even let uz finish my sentence. She just, like, turned away and started talking to her mate. I tell you... lasses, man. They're proper mental."

"Did you do something to upset her, like?" Hex queried.

"Nar!" Eric shrugged. "Well, I mean... yeah, obviously. I must have done... but I don't know what. That's the stupid thing about lasses. They expect you to be a mind-reader, and seriously... like, dudes are, like, the worst people in the world at knowing what's going on inside lasses' brains, like, so lasses are completely stupid for expecting us to be able to read their minds. We can't even read them when they're being totally obvious half the time, so how are we meant to read their minds when they're being secretive?"

"I wonder what you've done," Kesta pondered.

"It'll probably be nowt, man," Eric remarked. "She'll just be in a strop over a totally minor little detail which she's suddenly decided is, like, totally important. But really it'll just be totally insignificant."

"Yeah anyway, you're better off being single," Hex advised.

Then Eric suddenly had an idea. "You couldn't ask her mate for uz, could you, Hex?" he requested.

"Ask her mate what?" Hex asked.

"Ask her why Elskar bombed uz out?" Eric clarified.

"Well, nar. I don't really want to speak to her," Hex enlightened, "cos then she might think I'm after a replay, and I'm not. So I don't want to give her the wrong impression."

"I know but just, like, so I know what's going on," Eric persisted.

"Well nar, cos like I say, if I speak to her she's going to think I want to keep hanging out with her and I don't," Hex reiterated.

"Well so what?" Eric shrugged. "What's wrong with her thinking that?"

"Well it's not really being fair on her if I give her the wrong impression," Hex explained, showing his compassionate side.

"Well, here! Sveltish Indie Chick gave me the wrong impression, like," Eric argued. "So tough crap on her mate!"

"I know but I don't want her turning into a stalker or anything," Hex remarked.

"Well just say to her, 'Look, I'm just into one-offs so I don't want a replay or nothing, but why did your mate bomb Eric out?'" Eric suggested.

"I can't say that," Hex purported. "That makes uz look totally shallow."

"Well you are," Eric shrugged.

"I know but I don't want to advertise the fact," Hex replied.

"Here, man! You're being a complete snide, like!" Eric snapped, losing his patience.

"Course I'm not," Hex disagreed. "How's that, like?"

"Cos I totally like Sveltish Indie Chick and you won't even put yourself out for uz," Eric moaned. "Thanks a lot, like, for nothing, you snide."

"Eric, man. It's not gonna make any difference either way," Kesta interjected, playing the peace-maker. "She's bombed you out. What does it matter _why_ she bombed you out?"

"Cos if I knew why she bombed uz out," Eric replied, "I could go up to her and be all, like, 'Ar, Elskar. I'm really sorry for doing that totally trivial thing I did which has got you in a pure huff over nothing. But I've, like, thought about it now and I can totally see that you're totally in the right and I'm totally in the wrong, even though it's a totally trivial insignificant thing and you're being a complete fool about it.' Except I probably wouldn't say it exactly like that. I'd probably word it a bit different to make her think I was being all sympathetic and apologetic and all that."

"I doubt her mate would tell uz anyway," Hex reasoned. "You know what lasses are like. They totally stick together."

"Well just try anyway," Eric urged. "Go on, man."

"I don't want to risk giving out the wrong imp..."

"Hey, you're being a complete and utter snide, like!" Eric interrupted, and he stormed off to the bar, muttering under his breath on his way, "Hey, I'm sick of this stupid rubbishy planet, like. They're all a bunch of snides."

Hex and Kesta watched him as he stormed off. Hex shrugged to sort of say 'What got into him?' and Kesta shrugged back as if to say 'I dunno. Weird, eh?' in reply.

At that point one of the bar staff jumped onto the bar and his colleague jumped onto the podium opposite, which was the signal that they were about to commence doing the fire skipping rope. Basically, at various points throughout the evening the bar staff at Hang Out would set a skipping rope on fire and drunken backpackers would think, 'Oo, that's a good idea,' and drunkenly attempt to skip over it and more often than not fail miserably, earning themselves really bad skin burns in the process. It was extremely reckless and irresponsible but it was also extremely fun entertainment, which was why Kesta immediately suggested they head down onto the beach for a better view.

"Ar, class! The fire skipping rope's coming on," he exclaimed. "Shall we head down?"

"Yeah, might as well," Hex agreed. "Although it's never very good this early on cos most people are still sober. It's better later on when everyone's totally DQed up and everyone falls over and gets burnt."

So they headed down to the beach for a better view of the fire skipping rope.

Meanwhile Eric was waiting to get served. And as he was waiting, much to his surprise a fit lass to his left smiled at him. So he smiled back.

"I like your t-shirt," the fit lass complimented.

"Thanks," Eric replied, and he smiled again. "Your dress is a bit average but you're really fit so I'm going to pretend it's really good out of shallowness." Then he faced back towards the bar for a few moments, before then glancing back at the fit lass once again. He then placed a surprised look on his face as if to suggest he had only just noticed her for the first time. "Hey, I really like your dress, like," he remarked.

This comment on its own would probably have gone down well with the fit lass, but he sort of blew it when he revealed that in actual fact he only thought her dress was merely average and he was only complimenting it to curry favour with her on account of her fitness. So because of this the fit lass gave Eric a deserved grumpy look and made a quick exit.

Meanwhile, Elskar's mate had noticed Hex and made a sharp bee-line for him.

"Hi," she smiled at him.

"Ar, alright," Hex replied, as neutrally and as unenthusiastically as possible.

Elskar's mate, whose name was Yillar, was really attractive and also a nice girl, but Hex still felt really uncomfortable talking to her. Like he said to Eric, he had no interest in a replay so couldn't see the point in hanging out with her. So having to answer her questions was the last thing he wanted to do. But the problem was that in everyday life Hex was generally a nice person, so he didn't want to tell her to go away. Ideally she would have just wanted to leave it as a one-off herself and then there wouldn't be a problem, but it was obvious to Hex that she was obviously quite keen on him. So he currently found himself in a bit of an awkward situation.

But then he had an idea. He couldn't be nasty to her for no reason, but then again he didn't need to be. Yillar's mate Elskar had just bombed out his mate Eric, so Hex reckoned that gave him an excuse to be in a slightly bad mood with Yillar.

"You left early this morning," she remarked.

"Yeah," Hex shrugged, in the style of Kevin the Teenager.

At this point Yillar decided to give up on her previous tactic of pretending she hadn't noticed that Hex was in a funny mood with her. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You're not very talkative tonight."

"Well what do you expect?" Hex announced. "Your mate bombed out my mate for no reason. I'm hardly likely to be pleased about it." As explained, this wasn't the real reason why Hex was in a funny mood. The real reason was that he didn't want a replay and therefore felt uncomfortable talking to Yillar when she quite clearly seemed quite keen on him. Eric's rejection was just a convenient excuse.

" _Elskar_ bombed _Eric_ out?" Yillar questioned, with a hint of confusion in her voice. "What are you on about? It was the other way round."

"That's not what Eric reckons," Hex asserted.

"Well he's lying then," Yillar alleged. "Elskar went to meet him but he didn't turn up."

"Well Eric reckons Elskar didn't turn up," Hex maintained. "And he really likes her so he's definitely not lying."

"Well he must be cos Elskar likes him as well so she definitely wouldn't lie either," Yillar insisted.

"Well Elskar's obviously confused then, cos Eric definitely thinks that Elskar bombed him out," Hex contended. By now he was starting to get a little bit paranoid, though. It was starting to sound as if Eric getting bombed out might possibly just be a misunderstanding which, if that was the case, meant he no longer had an excuse to be in a bad mood with Yillar. So he needed to come up with another reason to be in the huff with her and fast.

Meanwhile, Eric was starting to regret his comments to the fit lass that liked his t-shirt. 'Ar, hey. I'm a proper chump, like,' he told himself. 'Just cos I'm in a bad mood, there was no need to be sarky to that lass, like. She seemed really nice. And she was totally fit as well. She was probably doing spadework. Ar, hey. I'm a total chump.'

But then Eric was suddenly distracted from his self-depreciating thoughts as another really fit lass smiled at him. "How come you're not drinking?" she asked, nodding at his energy drink.

'Right, this time don't be honest with her,' Eric told himself. 'Well... I mean, be honest. But not, like, _totally_ honest. Like, don't tell her she's wearing too much make-up, for example. Focus on her good points.'

"Ar, er... your legs are really nice, like," he mumbled.

The fit lass didn't quite know what to say to this so Eric quickly added, "Ar, but that's not why I'm not drinking... like, getting back to your original question, that is. Your fit legs are nothing to do with uz drinking energy drinks," Eric explained. "I'm just not really that into the DQ."

"But you're on holiday!" the fit lass flirtily replied. "You're meant to be enjoying yourself!"

"Yeah, but... well..." 'Remember, don't be excessively honest,' Eric told himself. "Just, like, well..." He racked his brains for an honest but not excessively honest answer that didn't reveal his true purpose for being on Fem. He couldn't think of one. So then he racked his brains for an alternative but nevertheless still honest reply that shifted the conversation in a different direction. "...my mate died cos of DQ," he finally answered, deciding at the last minute that honesty wasn't for him after all. "He got totally DQed up one night and choked on his own sick. So DQ sort of brings back bad memories for uz."

The fit lass looked totally mortified. "I - I'm really sorry," she stuttered. "I didn't realise..." Her voice trailed off.

"Ar, no. It's not your fault," Eric frowned. "You didn't realise. But I just can't really face drinking DQ after my mate... you know." The fit lass placed her hand compassionately on Eric's shoulder. "And, I mean, like, you're right. I probably do need to enjoy myself more to take my mind off things. That was the whole reason I came away on holiday."

Meanwhile, Hex and Yillar had sussed out the alleged bombing out incident between Eric and Elskar. Eric had gone to the wrong restaurant. Elskar had arranged to meet at Papaya Restaurant and Eric had gone to Mango Restaurant. So with the happy news that Eric hadn't bombed her out after all, Yillar went straight to her mate Elskar to inform her of the situation. Elskar took the news with begrudging pleasantness, although secretly she was much more pleased than she let on. Not because she was completely smitten with Eric or anything like that. Mainly because lasses totally hate getting bombed out, whereas they only mildly dislike discovering that the dude they had arranged to meet was a proper chump who can't even remember the name of the right restaurant. So discovering that Eric was a gormless chump was significantly more preferable to discovering he was a stand-up merchant.

"So do you think you'll speak to him again?" Yillar inquired.

"Maybe," Elskar replied, with a sly grin on her face. She was attempting to suppress her pleasure at discovering Eric did like her after all. Again, this was mainly because lasses just like to feel attractive, not necessarily because she specifically liked Eric.

"Where is he?" Yillar asked Hex. "Do you think maybe he's gone back to his hotel?"

"No, he was over at the bar," Hex divulged, nodding over towards the bar. Hex then couldn't help noticing that at that exact moment Eric was at the bar snogging the fit lass that was wearing too much make-up, and a quick flash of panic appeared in his eyes. "I mean... not the bar. I think he said he was going to have a bit of a dance on the podium," Hex quickly amended, but it was too late. Yillar and Elskar had already looked over to the bar and spotted Eric snogging the lass that was wearing too much make-up.

So that was the end of Eric and Elskar.

Eric meanwhile, was thinking... well actually he wasn't thinking much of anything, other than, 'Mmm, this is nice.' That was all he generally ever thought on the rare occasions when he was snogging. Although actually, occasionally he might think, 'I wonder how long I have to snog her for before I can start gradually feeling her up?' but other than that all he ever thought was, 'Mmm, this is nice.'

But after a while they arrived at a natural pause in the kiss and this allowed his brain a chance to think of other stuff. And what it thought was...

Ants.

Suddenly the image of all the dead ants on his bed came into Eric's head. And he couldn't help but notice the comparison with the way the last day or so of his life had gone. 'Hey, nature's mad, like. It's totally got no intelligence, like,' he thought to himself. 'You kill an ant and then all his ant mates come running to their deaths like crazy fools. And then you give a lass the Telix-17 virus and suddenly other lasses think, 'Mmm, I quite fancy catching the Telix-17 virus as well.' Honestly, nature's completely got no intelligence whatsoever.' Then he and the fit lass started snogging again, so he forgot all about ants and nature and returned once again to the subject of 'Mmm, this is nice.'

But then at the next natural break in the kiss Eric's thoughts returned once again to his ant analogy. 'It's totally mad. I don't understand it. Nature is seriously off its head, like. Apart from all that stuff like making the peak of lasses' attractiveness synchronised with the peak of their fertility. And, like, making dudes feel protective towards pregnant women and stuff. Good on nature for all that stuff, like. Like, for the survival of the species and all that. But, like, starting a chain reaction of death... well, it's dropped a total big massive clanger there, like.' Then he stared at the attractive face of whoever the lass he'd been snogging was called and added to himself, 'But it's a clanger I intend to take full advantage of, like.' And then they started kissing once again.

Meanwhile Elskar was at that moment trying to prove to Eric that she wasn't the slightest bit bothered that he was kissing another girl. And the way she tried to prove this was by the method lasses regularly chose to pursue when they wanted to show a dude that they weren't even that keen on him in the first place, namely by suddenly acting all interested in another dude.

So she had started talking, and also being quite touchy in that sort of pretend friendly way when really you're blatantly doing spadework type of a way, with the first decent looking dude she had seen. And being a dude he had thought, 'Get in! I'm in here!' and not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth he had readily returned Elskar's flirty touchy body language, so within a matter of minutes they were snogging each other. Which meant the Telix-17 virus had now claimed its fourth victim.

Meanwhile, Eric was still thinking, 'Mmm, this is nice,' but by now it was a thought that was having to share brain time with the 'I wonder how long I have to snog her for before I can start gradually feeling her up?' thought. But then at the next break in the kiss a thought entered his head which was quite a common thought for Eric to think during breaks in kisses, namely 'I wonder where my mates are?' So he looked over to where he had last left Kesta and Hex only to notice that they were no longer there. So he quickly glanced around to see if he could spot them anywhere and noticed that they were at the front of the bar watching the fire skipping rope. And he also noticed that Yillar was stood next to Hex. And as well as this he also couldn't help noticing that Elskar was stood next to Yillar. And as well as noticing this he also couldn't help noticing that Elskar was currently an unwitting tool in helping the Telix-17 virus claim its fourth victim. Which is to say, she was snogging another dude!

Eric's eyes widened. Partly in shock, and partly in anger. 'What's she playing at!?' he thought to himself. 'How can she do that to uz!?!" Eric was clearly gutted. "Like... he's wearing a novelty souvenir t-shirt!!! How can she do that!?! How can she snog a dude wearing a novelty souvenir t-shirt!!! That's low, that. Totally low.'

So Eric suddenly found himself with an overwhelming urge to prove to Elskar, and anyone else that was interested, that he had never really been that fussed about her in the first place. And the way he decided to try to prove this was by the method dudes regularly chose to pursue when they wanted to show a lass that they weren't that fussed about her in the first place, namely by suddenly acting all interested in another lass.

So he started kissing the lass that wore too much make-up once again, but this time even more enthusiastically. Almost, you could say, a little theatrically. And during the next break he then casually glanced over in the direction of Elskar, in a way that was meant to suggest that he hadn't even noticed her. Unfortunately for Eric, Elskar didn't even notice him because she was too busy kissing the dude she had recently just met, albeit not quite as theatrically as Eric had performed his kiss.

And then unfortunately for Eric, it became obvious by the change in the lass who wore too much make-up's body language, and also by the way she turned away from him and leaned against the bar, that she was now in the mood for an extended break. Eric actually wasn't too bothered about the break in kissing in itself, but he was extremely bothered about proving to Elskar that he wasn't that fussed about her after all, so if the lass who wore too much make-up was done with snogging for the time being then that presented a problem.

But somehow Eric now found himself with a new found confidence. 'Well, I've definitely got a magic banana,' he told himself. A magic banana wasn't an actual real banana. It was simply a fictitious device that Eric, Monty and Garth referred to which meant you were going through an unfeasibly excellent period of success with lasses. It wasn't an actual real banana. It was just an expression. An expression to describe one of those rare but much sought after periods where you just seem to get opportunity after opportunity.

Truth be told, Eric had never actually owned a full-on magic banana before. He had had a couple of spells which were better than his usual low average, but nothing intense enough to merit the term 'magic banana'. But the events of the last two nights suggested to him that he was now quite possibly the proud owner of a freshly delivered magic banana. So if the lass that wore too much make-up was all snogged out then Eric would just have to find a different lass.

"Ar, I, er... think I'm gonna quickly nip back to my room," he announced. "Just cos my eye's really sore so I think I might give it a quick rinse with my eye drops." Strictly speaking this wasn't entirely true. In fact it was a complete lie. Basically, what Eric was planning on doing was giving the lass with too much make-up the slip so he could find some other lass to try it on with. "Are you just gonna be hanging around here, are you?" Eric asked.

"I might as well come with you," the fit lass with too much make-up replied.

'Man!' Eric thought to himself. 'That spoils my plans.' "Ar, it's alright. I'll only be a couple of minutes if you'd rather just wait here," he suggested.

"Actually I think I'd rather go with you to your room, rather than just wait here on my own," the fit lass with too much make-up responded.

'Man, how can I shake her off?' Eric thought to himself.

But then just in the nick of time he had a realisation. 'Hang on a sec! A fit lass that I've just been hornily snogging is wanting to come back to my room with uz and I'm trying to shake her off!?' Eric suddenly realised that this was perhaps quite possibly the most foolish course of action he had ever attempted to pursue in his entire life. 'Like... eh!?! What are you doing, man, Eric? You complete chump!'

"Ar, right... aye. Well I'm just staying at the Sunny Heaven Beach Resort so it's just up the alleyway," he remarked, and he was about to lead the way when he noticed that Elskar still wasn't looking in his direction. By now she had stopped snogging the dude in the novelty t-shirt, but she was facing towards the beach and therefore couldn't see Eric. "Ar, but hang on, though. I totally love this tune so do you mind if we just wait until the next song before we go?" he requested. The tune that was currently playing was 'Connect' by Kel Minky, the recent winner of this year's Star Maker show, and in actual fact Eric couldn't stand the song. However, he didn't want to leave the club until Elskar was looking in his direction so that she would see him heading off towards his hotel room accompanied by a fit lass. So that was why Eric pretended to be a fan of 'Connect'. It was totally childish but Eric was very comfortable being childish.

"Yeah, I like this tune as well," the fit lass who wore too much make-up agreed, and she started dancing with him. So Eric danced even closer so that they were sort of half-dancing and half-cuddling. 'This is the perfect ergonomical position to prove to Elskar that I'm totally not fussed about her,' he thought to himself.

Then by the time it got to the second chorus Eric noticed Elskar casually glancing in his direction. She was clearly trying to look as if she was just glancing about in general, but in reality she was obviously keeping tabs on Eric. So Eric seized his chance. "Ar actually, my eye's getting even sorer now, so can we just go now?" And he took the hand of the fit lass that wore too much make-up and led her out of the club towards his hotel, sneakily watched by Elskar.

A smug grin appeared on Eric's face. 'That'll teach Sveltish Indie Chick to go in the huff with uz over something so totally trivial and insignificant that I don't even know what it is, and then expect uz to be a mind-reader and just magically know what I've done, even though whatever I've done is completely minor and unimportant,' he thought to himself.

He turned his head to the side and looked at the fit lass with too much make-up. She was smiling as well, although perhaps for different reasons.

And so, as the tune 'Connect' played in the background, the pair of them walked happily back to Eric's room, smiling.

Chapter Seventeen – Horniness Without Love Attached

There was one occasion a few years ago when Eric and Monty had gone to see a wet t-shirt competition and after the contest Monty had remarked that he wasn't really that great a fan of wet t-shirt competitions because they always left him feeling unsatisfied. Eric had joked that even a five day orgy with four fit Swedish lasses wouldn't leave him feeling satisfied. In Eric's opinion a lack of satisfaction was always going to be the inevitable consequence of horniness without love attached.

He had half said it in jest, but now he was starting to suspect his jokey comment contained a strong element of truth. Because he had just achieved two in two for the first time in his life and yet he still wasn't satisfied. All he could think of was that this was the perfect opportunity to go for _three_ in two. And two in one for that matter.

'Flip! I've done one of my ambitions!' he thought to himself. 'Two in two! Yes! Back of the net!' He smiled a smug smile to himself. 'And the way things are going I could probably even do _three_ in two if I head back down the beach quickly.'

But first he had to shake off the lass that wore too much make-up. "What's your name by the way?" he asked her.

"Darbie," the lass with too much make-up, who Eric had now discovered was called Darbie, revealed.

"Ar, right. I'm Eric," Eric replied. He was about to say 'nice to meet you' but thought that might be a bit inappropriate given the circumstances, so he moved straight onto his strategy of trying to shake her off. "I'm probably gonna head off back down the beach soon to catch the last hour, like. Do you fancy coming or are you heading off?"

However, Darbie had an alternative suggestion. "Would you not rather stay here and do something else?" she suggested.

"What like?" Eric inquired.

Darbie answered Eric's question with actions rather than words, and it was an answer that greatly appealed to Eric. Truth be told, it was a suggestion that followed a very similar format to what they had just spent the last hour doing, but Eric quickly concluded that certain forms of repetition could be very appealing. And this was one such example. So much so in fact, that he quickly decided that going for three in two was a stupid idea. After all, judging by the form he was in there was every chance he could make it three in three the following night, which was almost as good as three in two. 'Yeah... best not be greedy,' he told himself, although truth be told, Darbie's actions were a significant contributing factor to his lack of greed.

And so all thoughts of attempting three in two quickly disappeared from Eric's head and he instead concentrated on doing 'something else' with Darbie.

Chapter Eighteen – Fear And Theories

It had now been almost two days since Monty and Garth had created Stella Gascrom as a fake friend for Eric, and yet he had still failed to add her as a friend. Not surprisingly, they were starting to get worried.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he's seeing someone," Garth surmised.

"Why d'you reckon that, like?" Monty asked.

"Cos he would have added her by now," Garth theorised. "Either he hasn't been into his account or if he has then he clearly isn't curious to meet up with a fit lass that has allegedly seen him around and wants to meet up. And the only reason why I can think he might possibly not be interested in a fit lass is if he was serious about another lass."

"I think it's more likely that he just hasn't logged into his A.T.S. for a while," Monty reasoned. "Remember, he didn't log in for over a week when he first got to Ko Pagna."

"Yeah, but that was when he first arrived," Garth replied. "Like, the excitement of being in a new place and the novelty of it probably meant that he had better things to do. But he's been on A.T.S. fairly regular since then... so why would he suddenly stop logging in again?"

A worried look appeared on Monty's face. "Unless Jixyl and Azleev have realised that we know the truth so they've taken care of Eric before we can warn him."

An equally worried expression appeared on Garth's face. "Shit! You might be right!" he agreed.

Monty then tried to regain his composure. "We're probably just worrying about nothing. Eric's probably just been too busy having a good time to worry about his A.T.S. account," he optimistically suggested.

"Yeah, that's probably it," Garth agreed.

But no matter how much the pair of them protested, they looked far from convinced.

Chapter Nineteen – How To Save The Earth

By now Darbie had headed off leaving Eric alone to reflect on his recent apparent acquisition of a magic banana. He lay on his bed with his hands behind his head feeling smug. A big satisfied grin adorned his face.

"Yes! Total chuffedness!" he remarked to himself. "Two in two!" One of Eric's mates had once done four in four, and another had once done six in seven, so Eric's achievement wasn't that remarkable, but by his own relatively unambitious expectations he was now in previously unknown territory. He smiled some more. " _And_... I've been with a Sveltish lass as well! Two of my ambitions achieved in two days! What a fluke!" He rubbed his hands together smugly. "Although technically my ambition was actually a Swedish lass, not a Sveltish lass... but it's virtually the same thing." And so he spent the next half hour lying there wallowing in his own smugness.

Gradually though, as is the case with all dudes, the smugness began to evolve into an urge to boast. So he sent Kesta and Hex a text to publicize his achievement:

' _Two in two. Proper chuffed, like.'_

He had initially typed out:

' _Two in two! Proper chuffed, like!'_

But then decided that he wanted to play it cool and so he substituted his originally over-excitable exclamation marks for more chilled out full stops.

But telling Kesta and Hex wasn't enough. The urge to boast was still there, so he then decided to log into his A.T.S. account to inform Monty and Garth of his success. As he picked up his A.T.S. unit he thought to himself, 'It's been a while since I last logged in, like.' It had indeed been a while since he last logged in and Stella Gascrom was still patiently waiting for him to add her as a friend. 'Ar, yeah. I'd forgot about her, like,' he thought to himself, as he noticed her friend request on his home page. So he clicked on her photo and re-read her welcome message:

' _Hi, I've seen you around in Ko Pagna and wanted to say hello but I'm too shy to speak to you in person so I thought I'd contact you by A.T.S. first. I'd really like to meet up sometime.'_

"Yes! The magic banana continues to work its magic!" Eric exclaimed. So then he clicked on the 'add as friend' button.

And seemingly as soon as he did, within a matter of seconds a new message had arrived in his inbox. So he opened his inbox and discovered that it was from his new friend Stella Gascrom.

'Ar, class! She's totally keen, like!' he thought to himself. But his smug sense of self-satisfaction was quickly replaced by altogether more negative thoughts as he opened up her message:

' _This is serious. This is not a joke. Read this message then delete it immediately. Then change your password. Then log out then log back in again immediately using your new password. Then send a message to Stella Gascrom to tell me that you've acted on my instructions. Do not use her wall. Use private mail. Then await further instructions._

Your life is at risk if you don't do exactly what I say. Repeat, this is not a joke.

Monty.'

'Gutter! That sounds like a bit of a downer, like,' Eric thought to himself. So he deleted the message and was about to change his password when he suddenly remembered a lush snaky trick Monty had once played on him a few months earlier.

Monty had sent him a text which went something along the lines of, 'Dude, can you ring me as soon as possible cos I need an urgent word! My battery is nearly dead though, so use this number...' But when Eric rang the number it turned out to be a gay advice helpline. Eric acknowledged Monty's trick by texting back, 'Nice one,' to which Monty replied, 'I didn't think you'd fall for it cos I thought you'd recognise the number.'

Anyway, Eric momentarily paused as he considered the possibility that this might be another trick. But then he decided that either way he still had to do what Monty had told him. If he was being serious then his life was at risk so it was essential that he followed Monty's orders. And if it was a joke then it would probably be a really funny gag so it was worth following Monty's instructions to see what comedy prank he had lined up.

So Eric changed his password then logged out then logged back in again. Then he sent the following message to Stella Gascrom:

' _Alright, it's Eric here. So who's Stella Gascrom, then? She looks canny fit, like. And what's all that about my life being at risk? Is it a trick? If it's a trick then saying someone's life is in danger is crossing the line, like. That's not how lush snaky tricks work. Saying someone's life is at risk is past the realms of a lush snaky trick into the realms of being a total snide. But obviously if my life is actually at risk then potentially dying would be a bit of a gutter, like, so obviously the most preferable option will be that hopefully you've just not understood the rules of lush snaky tricks properly and this will just be a trick and you'll have a really funny punch-line lined up._

Anyway, I've done what you said. I've changed my password and logged out and logged back in and all that.

I now await further instructions.

Hopefully in the form of a funny punch-line.

Eric.'

Then he crossed his fingers and hoped that it was nothing more than a misjudged prank on Monty's part. A few moments later, however, his hopes were savagely cut down as he received the following reply:

' _Sorry, there's no funny punch-line. Prepare yourself for a shock..._

Jixyl and Azleev are total liars. They've been stringing you along all this time. The Femlings aren't planning to kill every living species on Earth after all. Jixyl and Azleev just made that up. In actual fact the Femlings are totally harmless. They're no danger whatsoever to Earth. Jixyl and Azleev are the mad psychos... not the Femlings. They've got some twisted obsession about the Femlings having an extra finger and that's what this is all about. They're just hate-filled mentalists to the point of genocidal jealousy. They're not doing us some big favour to save mankind from obliteration. That was just some patter they made-up. They're just mad psychos.'

Eric froze. His face was a picture of total shock. After a few seconds of stunned silence he continued reading Monty's message:

' _So whatever you do, don't snog any Femling lasses! Cos like I say, the Femlings are totally innocent.'_

Eric suddenly felt numb.

' _And you also need to be aware that Jixyl and Azleev have had access to your A.T.S. account since you've been on Fem. That's why we got you to change your password. And that's why you need to contact me and Garth through our Stella Gascrom account from now on. It's probably wise that we continue to contact each other through our original accounts as well, acting as if everything's all peachy-dorey and all that, just so that Jixyl and Azleev don't get suspicious, but anything confidential has to go through Stella Gascrom._

And it also might be worth telling them some patter about you using your G.I.N. unit on the beach or something, and you noticed someone hovering about behind you so you changed your password just to be on the safe side. Something like that. Just so they don't get suspicious and wonder why you've changed your password.

And finally, what you need to do now is think about how you're gonna get back to Earth. Bearing in mind that Jixyl and Azleev are evil snides that are hoping to exterminate the population of an entire planet which, I suspect, means that they'd also have no qualms whatsoever about killing you as well. So it's probably not a good idea to ask them for a lift home.

Cos seeing as how you, me and Garth are the only other people in the galaxy that know about this plan to kill all the Femlings, I strongly suspect that once the plan has been completed they might decide that there's no benefit to be gained from keeping us alive.

So if there's any way you can get the Femlings to give you a lift home then that might be the wise thing to do.

Anyway, sorry to be the bearer of bad news but hopefully we'll have managed to contact you before you've snogged any fit Femling lasses and we'll have averted a disaster.

Monty.'

Eric stared into space and blinked. Then he stared into space some more. In fact he continued staring into space for approximately the next hour. He was completely numb. Every emotion had been whacked out of him. He was an emotional vacuum. So he continued staring into space for quite some time, his only movement the occasional blinking of his eyes.

And then, after about an hour or so he managed to curl up into the foetal position. But still his face bore an empty expressionless look. Then there was a point, although Eric couldn't be sure exactly how much time had passed when he noticed this, when he noticed that his arm was shaking. In fact both arms were shaking. And his head felt like it was going to explode.

'AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!' he thought to himself. 'What a chump I am!!!' He squeezed his head in a futile attempt to make the overwhelming sensation of chumpishness go away, but without success.

And that was more or less the point when the numbness began to disappear. And in its place came an overwhelming feeling of stupidity and embarrassment at being well and truly suckered. 'What a muppet! What a complete muppet! Why do I always totally fall for tricks?' He thought back to Monty's trick with the gay advice helpline. He had completely fallen for that as well. Although that wasn't completely the same, seeing as how that was a lush snaky trick that was a canny funny laugh for everyone and had no negative consequences, whereas this was a complete and utter snidey trick with planet-shattering consequences.

'I'm such a complete fool! Given that I quite enjoy playing the occasional lush snaky trick myself, you'd think I'd have gotten a bit better at spotting them when they're played on me by now. But no... I'm still the total gormless chump that I've always been. Nothing's changed. I'm still the prime candidate target for tomfoolery and japery. Not to mention a planetocidal deception.' Then, as the master of understatement he added, 'Ar, hey. This is canny rubbish, like.'

And then, as he lay there on his bed contemplating the terrible schoolboy error he had made, he gradually came to a harsh realisation.

'I should have realised that you don't save the world by snogging loads of lasses, like.' He shook his head in disbelief at his own stupidity. 'Saving the world tends to follow the old 'shoot a laser missile into a two metre exhaust shaft' scenario. That's what I would have had to do if Jixyl and Azleev had been telling the truth. Or mebbees defeat a big monster with four heads and properly lethal sharp teeth or something. But not snog loads of lasses. Who ever heard of the Earth being saved by snogging loads of lasses?

For starters, if you were gonna save the world and it involved lasses, then it would be by getting married and being a devoted husband and dedicated father and all that. Cos if everyone did that then the next generation would all be totally class people. Obviously you'd get the odd rubbish kid that would turn out to be a snide, but in general the next generation would be a great improvement on the current generation. Not to knock the current generation cos there's lots of sound people in the world at the minute as well. But there's also a canny few dodgy ones as well.

But if everyone was a perfect husband and father, apart from lasses obviously, they'd have to be perfect wives and mothers, but anyway if everyone was perfect partners and parents then the percentage of rubbish people in the next generation would be much lower than in the current generation. Just cos kids generally take after their parents. Just look at formula 1, for example. Gilles and Jacques Villeneuve. Graham and Damon Hill. Keke and Nico Rosberg. Kids always like to be like their dads. Especially when their dads are excellent.

So if everyone was an excellent husband and dad then the next generation would be class. And then I wouldn't fall for some patter about the Femlings wanting to destroy all humans cos of our alleged rubbish quality of life. Cos we wouldn't have a rubbish quality of life. We'd have an excellent quality of life cos everyone would be totally sound to each other all the time.

Like, obviously there'd still be some rubbish stuff and all that, like diseases and stuff. But even then if there were more class people then there'd be more people devoting their life to medicine and stuff, so we'd have more cures for stuff. And there wouldn't be as many criminals so the government could spend less on police and more on hospitals and stuff. And plus, the managing directors of drug companies would be totally sound people instead of money-grabbing shits whose policies cause suffering to loads of people, so all the drugs and stuff would be cheaper so there'd be less waiting lists and stuff.

So anyway, that's how you save the Earth. Not by snogging loads of lasses. By being a class father and husband. I know that's a bit of a gutter when you just want to have fun and all that but it's true. Like, admittedly it would only be totally effective if everyone in the world carried it out as well, so you're sort of heavily dependant on everyone else doing it as well, but basically that's how you save the Earth. By being a class father and husband, thereby ensuring that the next generation has a higher percentage of sound people in it than the current generation.

And I should have realised. But I didn't. Cos I'm a total chump. What a complete muppet I am. On a scale of one to ten, I'm a seventy six. I know that technically that's breaking the laws of maths but in this case my level of muppetness is so extreme that I think it even goes beyond the laws of maths. That's how extreme my muppetosity is. Seventy six. Sixty six points beyond the laws of maths. That's a lot of muppetosity. Of all the muppets that ever lived I'm the greatest muppet by an absolute mile. Like, if you imagine the gap between me and the second biggest muppet, then it'd be the equivalent of the difference in performance between a McLaren formula 1 car and an electric milk float. That's how much I out-muppet my nearest contender by.

Ar, rubbish. Total utter rubbishness. Ar, just think of all the sound people who are probably gonna die now cos of me. Cos of what I've unleashed. People like Kesta and Hex. And Elskar. Actually, she's not a probable. She's a definite. Although actually she's not that sound, like. Seeing as how she was a bit of a snide for going in the huff with uz over something so trivial that I don't even know what it was. And seeing as how she snogged a dude in a cheesy novelty souvenir t-shirt. That was low, like. But apart from those two little blips she was sound, though. She was totally sound.

Ar, man. Ar, why couldn't Monty have sent uz his message two days earlier?'

Eric then remembered that he had first noticed Stella Gascrom yesterday morning while Elskar was in the bathroom. And in all likelihood, she'd probably been there waiting for him to add her as a friend long before that.

'Ar, man. Actually, he probably did. He's probably been waiting for ages to warn uz but I've been too busy enjoying myself to bother checking.'

Eric then summed up his thoughts with one final, 'Ar, rubbish. Total rubbishness.'

And then once again the numbness returned. The situation was simply too much for his brain to handle, so it reacted by switching itself off. Not literally. He didn't die or anything like that. But once again he became an emotional vacuum. And again this period of numbness lasted for a considerable length of time.

But just like the last time, the numbness eventually came to an end. And this time it wasn't embarrassment that filled the vacuum. Nor was it a feeling of stupidity. This time it was a far more dangerous emotion. An emotion he had felt briefly the previous day. An emotion that can motivate people into doing things they normally wouldn't have the courage to do.

Anger.

Anger at being conned by Jixyl and Azleev. Anger at being made to feel stupid. Anger at being tricked into the possible elimination of an entire species. Anger at having an unbearable weight of responsibility forced upon his shoulders.

So Eric vowed revenge. "The fucking gits," he quietly uttered to himself in a tone of voice he never usually used. His usual tone of voice was a light-hearted sort of tone. But the tone of voice he used now was much darker. Even a touch sinister. "The fucking gits are gonna pay." Slightly louder now. "They're not gonna get away with this. They're probably laughing now thinking they're so clever but I swear they're gonna come off the losers. This is just the first round. They've won the battle but they won't win the war. This is just the first set. And a tennis match is always best of three sets. So it's not over yet, even if they think it is.

Admittedly, this isn't a tennis match so strictly speaking the scoring system used in a tennis match isn't totally relevant, but nonetheless my sentiments are totally true. I'm gonna be the winner from now on. I guarantee that. They'll lose the match. I'll take the next two sets.

Although actually, it's just women's tennis where it's best of three. Men's tennis is best of five and I'm a man so that means I need to take the next _three_ sets. If this was a tennis match, that is. But admittedly, it's not. But if it was then that's what I'd do, though. I'd take the next three sets. That's a promise. Even if I needed to take the next _ten_ sets, I'd still do it. I guarantee that.

They think the Femlings are all gonna die but they won't. I guarantee that. I'll find a way to undo my mistakes. And then once I've done that, then I'll make them pay." Given that Eric wasn't a biological genius with the ability to invent cures for diseases within a six month timescale, this was possibly an overly optimistic, or perhaps even hollow promise, but nevertheless Eric's voice was dripping with sincerity when he said it. Because right at that moment he was thoroughly consumed with a need for revenge. And a need to undo what he had unleashed. Partly because he didn't want the Femlings to die now that he had discovered that they were totally sound and totally harmless. But also just to spite Jixyl and Azleev.

Like Yoda quite correctly pointed out, hate leads to the dark side, but it's also a very powerful emotion. And a very motivating emotion. So right at that moment Eric was feeling very motivated.

"The fucking gits are gonna pay," he vowed. "First I'm gonna ensure the virus doesn't spread any further. Then I'm gonna ensure that the three victims of the Telix-17 virus are somehow cured. And then once the safety of the Femlings is taken care of, the next thing I'm gonna do is take care of Jixyl and Azleev. The fucking gits." His eyes stared once again into space, but this time it wasn't a vacant look that they bore. This time it was a look of pure hate. A look of pure anger. A look of pure obsession.

"I swear... I'll have my revenge. Jixyl and Azleev might think this is the end but I swear, it's only the beginning. That's for sure. It's not the end. It's only the beginning.

Like the saying goes, 'Everything will be okay in the end,' and right at this moment things are most definitely not okay. Right at this moment things are a million miles away from being okay.

So that means it's not the end. There's a long way to go yet. A long, long way to go. So I guarantee one thing... this isn't the end. This most certainly isn't the end."

The End

Nar, man. Just joking. It's not the end really. Well, not _quite_ the end anyway. I just wrote _'The End'_ for a laugh to make Eric look stupid. Eric's thoughts actually bantered on for a little bit longer. So this is how it really ends...

"I guarantee I'll undo my mistakes. And I guarantee that Jixyl and Azleev will end up the losers. I'll teach them to make a fool out of me. I don't know all the details yet, but I know one thing for certain..." An evil smile slowly formed on Eric's face. "I'll have my revenge. Oh, yes. I'll have my revenge."

And so Eric set about planning his revenge...

To be continued...

Like, as in this is only the first of six books so therefore there's another five books to go, so therefore Eric was right when he said it wasn't the end.

But now it's the end, though.

Of the first book, anyway.

So I suppose I'd better finish things off officially...

The End

Just out of interest, I presume there might be loads of questions swimming through your head at the moment. Like, how did Jixyl get that video of Grand Emperor Fel Skarpander making his 'Quality Of Life' speech when we now know that the Femlings are actually totally sound and the 'Quality Of Life' proposal doesn't actually exist? What was Jixyl going to say in Chapter Eight of Part Two before Azleev interrupted him? Will we ever find out Eric's surname? Why have I wasted the last week of my life reading this rubbish? Or perhaps you're a fast reader and you've only wasted three days of your life.

Either way, if you want to discover the answers to all of the above questions then you'll have to buy the next book for that.

So anyway, as this is the end I suppose once again I'd better finish things off officially.

The End

What? Do you not trust uz or something? It's the end, man. That's it. No more. Finito. Slut.

Actually, that 'slut' comment probably confused you so perhaps I'd better explain. 'Slut' is Swedish for 'end'. I wasn't calling you a slut. I was just saying it's the end. In Swedish. So don't take offence.

Nothing to see here.

Move along please.

Copyright Emmett Gill

A Note From The Author

Spoiler alert: The following comments make references to some of the characters and events from the story, so don't read this section until after you've read the rest of the book. That's why it's at the back of the book. To make sure people don't read it first and thus spoil the story for themselves. You probably sussed this out in any case but I just thought I'd mention it in case any stupid people are reading this.

There have been certain books I've read, like Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh for example, and also Inconceivable by Ben Elton is another good example of this, when I've thought to myself, 'This seems to be very accurately written,' and I've wondered how much of it is made-up and how much is inspired by real life. Books like those have left me wondering how much of an overlap there is between reality and fiction.

And then I thought to myself that maybe when people read this book they might wonder the same thing. So just to clarify, all the stuff about the aliens and stuff is made-up... just in case you were wondering. And also that chapter about the magic duck that grows tentacles is made up as well. I hope that's cleared things up.

Having said that, there _are_ some examples where I've taken my inspiration from real life. Anyone that's ever been to Koh Pha Ngan in Thailand for example will no doubt have realised where I got the inspiration for Ko Pagna.

But in general everything's just made up. Or to use official industry terminology, 'All characters and events contained within this book are entirely fictional. Any similarity with real people or occurrences is purely coincidental.'

I know some people will disagree with this statement and see similarities between Eric and myself because admittedly we do have _some_ things in common, but overall we're canny different. Eric likes carrots for example, whereas I'm not a great fan of vegetables. Eric has a top five list of fantasies whereas I actually have eight fantasies on my list, so Eric clearly isn't as ambitious or as creative as me.

Another significant difference is that Eric likes spanking whereas that's not really my thing. I mean, obviously if a lass started thrusting her bum at uz then I wouldn't leave her hanging. I'm not _that_ sly. It'd be totally inconsiderate on her feelings to leave her hanging. But in all seriousness spanking is way down my list of stuff I like.

Also, I'm totally much more cleverer than Eric, like. For the story to work the main character had to be a bit foolish, so I had to make him more stupid than me. Some people that know me are probably thinking, 'Flip! That's very stupid indeed!' but they'll just be thinking that as a joke and secretly they'll know that I'm canny clever really. Admittedly I can occasionally have the wool pulled over my eyes as well but I cotton on eventually. I suppose Eric cottoned on eventually though, didn't he, so maybe we're more alike than I realise.

Some of the ways in which we're alike are probably very obvious to people that know me. For example, there are many parallels between the dialogue Eric and I employ when communicating. Or to put it another way, we both talk canny similar, like.

Another similarity is that we both share a love of the game 'Would You Rather?' And I also share Eric's high appreciation of Swedish lasses. Although having said that, my philosophy is that only a fool would limit his options. It's a bad move to voluntarily limit your choices when we live in a world filled with so many amazing flavours. Which is basically just a fancy way of saying that I'm not really that fussy.

But the most important opinion I share with Eric is that I also reckon the way to save the world is by being a class parent. I remember when I saw that film with Angelina Jolie in it called Beyond Borders, the main character was obviously meant to be some excellent hero doing her bit to save the world and stuff, but all I could think when I was watching it was, 'Eh! You're leaving your kid to go off having adventures around the world! Like... what are you doing!? Your kid should totally come first, you fool!'

Like, fair enough if single childless people want to go off having adventures around the world, righting wrongs and helping the sick and needy, then good on them. High five for people like that, like. They're class people who I totally respect. But personally, in my opinion the best thing you can possibly do in the world – like, better than anything else – is be an excellent parent. If you've got a kid then they obviously have to come first before anything else. Surely that's just common sense.

Like, just to stress my point, I know a canny few people who totally put their kid(s) first all the time, so in my eyes they're blatantly much more better excellent people than Angelina Jolie's character out of Beyond Borders. My mam and dad obviously are a good example for starters, but I know quite a few other people as well who I totally respect for the way they're prepared to give up their free time for their kids and make decisions which benefit their kids more than they benefit themselves and just the way they're just generally excellent parents. Obviously I would never tell anyone to their face cos I'd feel like a proper idiot but anyway, that's the way I secretly think about some people.

Having said all this, even though I reckon the way to save the world is by being a class parent, I personally would rather lie on the beach all day and go out partying every night. That's just cos I'm a selfish snide though, so my chosen lifestyle should in no way detract from the truth of my argument. I'm not arrogant enough to think that my chosen lifestyle is also the most noble and commendable. It's very enjoyable, but I can recognise that other lifestyles are blatantly more commendable and rewarding than mine.

Anyway, that's all I wanted to say. Sorry for getting all serious and stuff, and I'll try to stick to just writing daft stupid stuff in future.

Ar, actually... there's just one more thing that I want to say. For all this is a daft stupid story, I still think it's a story that some people might possibly benefit from reading.

And quite possibly, the person who would probably benefit more than anyone else... is me.

Charles Fudgemuffin

Charles Fudgemuffin Links

It was actually over five years ago now when I originally finished writing 'How To Save The World: An Alien Comedy' so since then I've actually finished writing the rest of the trilogy... all six books of it! As it turned out part two of the story ended up being two books long (2A and 2B) and part three ended up being three books long (3A, 3B and 3C), so there are quite a few twists and turns still in store for Eric before he gets to the end of his adventures.

If you'd therefore like to stay up to date with all the latest Charles Fudgemuffin news and future developments in the 'How To Save The World' saga then there are three ways you can stay up to date:

1) There's a Charles Fudgemuffin page on facebook:

www.facebook.com/charlesfudgemuffin

And even if you're not really that interested then it's still worth clicking 'like' anyway just to make me look more popular.

2) I'm also on twitter as @CFudgemuffin:

@CFudgemuffin

3) And the final way you can stay up to date with all the latest Charles Fudgemuffin news is at the Charles Fudgemuffin blog:

charlesfudgemuffin.blogspot.com

Finally, thanks for reading and to quote the wise words of Confucius, "He who reads the words which inspire laughter, then encourages others to read those words, that is he who brings delight into the world, and the delight in his own life shall therefore also multiply ... or something."

Or perhaps I just made that up.

Anyway, cheers for reading and if you enjoyed the book then please help spread the word.

Charles Fudgemuffin

The Legal Bit

Technically speaking, you don't really need a legal bit in a book nowadays cos you get copyright automatically anyway as soon as you write something, but I'm still gonna have a legal bit anyway just to make it look like a real book and stuff. So here goes.

All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any way, shape or form without the author's express permission. To make things absolutely clear, any reproduction of this book (or any part of it) is totally utterly not allowed. Not even a little bit.

Just to clarify things though, if there's a part of the book which you found funny then you're allowed to tell your friends about it. Don't worry, I'm not going to suddenly turn up one day with a lawyer while you're telling your mates about some funny quote by Eric and start giving it all, 'Nar, you can't quote from the book without my permission. Soz, like. Copyright rules and all that.'

So don't worry. The bit about 'this book may not be reproduced without the author's permission' doesn't mean you can't quote bits to your mates. Although don't spoil it for them. Fair enough, give them a brief flavour but don't tell them the whole story. That's nothing to do with copyright, though. That's just to do with not being sly.

Anyway, telling your friends about the book is actively encouraged and massively appreciated. Big thanks to anyone who helps spread the word.

That concludes the legal bit. Thanks for your attention.

The Blurb

How To Save The World by Charles Fudgemuffin

Aliens from the planet Fem have decided that as compassionate citizens of the galaxy they have a duty to alleviate suffering and affliction from the rest of the galaxy.

In the majority of cases this will involve sharing their unprecedented prosperity and quality of life with those planets less fortunate than themselves. Of course, in a minority of extreme cases this will also involve eliminating life from those planets in the galaxy where the level of suffering is simply too great to alleviate.

Unfortunately for Earth, the Femlings have deemed us one such planet...

The story continues in the remaining five books of the 'How To Save The World' series...

2A: 'Be Careful What You Wish For'

2B: 'By Whatever Means Necessary'

3A: 'Hopes And Dreams'

3B: 'Revenge And Justice'

3C: 'In The End, No-One Can Escape Justice'

Available from various online ebook sellers. Visit the Charles Fudgemuffin blog for further details.

Footnotes

 An exaggeratedly named hill in The Lake District.

 Eric had done a fair bit of travelling so many of his stories and recollections related to events and occurrences in various parts of the world.

 Like 94.2% of all statistics, Eric had just approximated these figures off the top of his head, so for the purposes of accuracy here's a more precise quote, "Malaria kills more than a million people worldwide each year – ninety percent of them in Africa; seventy percent children under the age of five."...National Geographic News, 12th June 2003

 The Full Moon Party is a party held every full moon (surprisingly enough) on Haad Rin Beach in Thailand and attracts thousands of fun-loving backpackers from all over the world.

 Sparring style, i.e. the way a boxer would dance around the ring. He wasn't planning on doing a waltz.

 In case you're wondering why Eric knew a bit of Japanese and Swedish then stay patient... all will be revealed in due course.

 A planet that was yet to reach a technological level capable of making contact with the other more advanced planets in the galaxy.

 This was a blip of G.O.T. A solar year on the aliens' planet was 389 days so when Jixyl referred to three solar years on his own planet, it didn't translate very well. Fortunately though, Azleev had his G.O.T. set to eight decimal places otherwise Eric could have been there all day (or rather, all 1.16338639 days, given that a solar day on the alien's planet lasted for 27.92127341 Earth hours).

 Don't ask what happened to G.O.T. 1.7. Some clever marketing executive probably thought 1.8 had a better ring to it.

 As some people may be aware, if you send a text from a mobile phone to a land-line in England, the text message will be read out in a robotic monotone voice to the person who owns the land-line. This is actually quite a useful service, when people use it responsibly and don't abuse it by playing daft comedy gags.

But if the telephone companies in England showed any motivation whatsoever for cracking down on premium rate scams, then pranks like this wouldn't work in any case because everyone would know that you can't be charged for unsolicited messages. Unfortunately however, premium rate scams do exist in England and telephone companies attitude to these scams seems to be 'There's nothing we can do about it this time but we'll put a block on your phone so you can't get scammed again' rather than 'Right, we'll trace the number of the individual that sent you the message then trace their company offices and ensure that the company gets closed down and the culprit gets put in jail,' which would be the attitude of any responsible company which correctly regarded phone fraud as the preventable scourge upon society that it is.

 More will be explained about this 'triple letter' remark in due course.

 Or drink flying in this case, to be more accurate.

 One of the few remaining spaceships on the market with a less than hundred percent reliability record.

 Spoon is another one of the bends at Suzuka Circuit.

 Or the Galactic Information Network, to give it its full title. This was basically a galaxy-wide version of the internet, only infinitely faster than the quickest broadband speeds Earth had to offer.

 We'd probably refer to them as 'windows' on Earth.

 A pint of lemonade in Monty's case, as he was driving.

 Eric owned a home recording studio, as well as a keyboard and guitar and other musical stuff, as he was well into home recording.

 Or rather, lied.

 Eric was getting a bit muddled up here. Dirty Dancing was, of course, filmed in English so translating it from Chinese back into English wouldn't require lip synching imagery because they were originally speaking English anyway, so their lips would have been in synch even without lip synching imagery.

 This was just Garth's opinion. It doesn't mean he was necessarily right. Physical attractiveness is a subjective matter, so like all subjective opinions there's no right and wrong.

Except when it comes to Swedish lasses, obviously. Swedish lasses are categorically lush obviously. That's not open for debate.

 Sarah was the name of Garth's lass, although actually you'd probably already worked that out for yourself. But anyway, just in case you're a bit gormless I'm just clarifying who she is.

 Monty lived two minutes walk away from Whitley Bay Beach.

 A popular TV show on Fem, where thousands of hopeful wannabes competed to become the next big pop star.

 On Azleev and Jixyl's planet a week lasted for nine days, so this was the best translation G.O.T. could come up with.

 Quorgsday is how the day after Saturday and the day before Sunday is literally pronounced in Azleev's language.

 From Azleev's point of view, G.O.T. translated Eric's, 'The day after Saturday and the day before Sunday?' comment into 'Quorgsday?'

 Another popular reality TV show on Fem.

 Media-blogs were basically multi-media digital newspapers with added bells and whistles that you could download from the G.I.N.

 Approximately equal to four million pounds at today's exchange rate.

 That's 'ironically' in the modern sense of the word, i.e. not ironically at all.

 'Chinned' is a Geordie expression for 'beat up'.

 In Africa by a dodgy policeman.

 Well, thirty times to be precise, but all thirty bullets were fired on the same occasion.

 Or alternatively, saying, 'Ar, this alien broke my arm,' as Hank was more likely to do, seeing as how he still seemed convinced that Eric had broke his arm.

 Or 'fruit machines' as we refer to them in the UK.

 'Scran' is a Geordie word for food.

 Jixyl and Azleev were wearing fake extra finger attachments to disguise their digital inferiority.

 Jixyl clearly didn't know Eric very well.

 That's not a joke by the way. If you think of the buzz you felt the first time you went to the match and the way you were awe-struck at the noise and all the people, then compare it to the buzz of The Great Barrier Reef or The Grand Canyon, then you have to conclude that your first time at the match is easily an equal to any of the wonders of the world.

 Jixyl and Azleev had cautioned Eric to wear four fingered gloves (where his little finger and ring finger squeezed into one digit) so that he wouldn't encounter hostility whilst on Fyra by being mistaken for a Femling.

 With the obvious exception of the Garamandians from the planet Garamandia, as they had a lead-lined skull which blocked their brainwaves and therefore prevented G.O.T. technology from reading their brainwaves and converting them into the language of the listener.

 The naming system for cities on Pokar Dix was very boring, although it has to be said, very practical and easy to follow.

 Or perhaps, lied.

 Jixyl and Azleev had warned Eric that once he arrived on the planet Fem it would be too risky to use mobile phones to contact each other as this risked the possibility of the Femlings tracing and monitoring the texts and therefore revealing Eric's secret mission. Once on Fem therefore, he would have to stick to A.T.S., which was virtually untraceable, as his only method of contacting Jixyl and Azleev.

But while he was on Pokar Dix mobile phone texts were still an acceptable method of communication.

 Bullet train.

 The Femling equivalent of an mp3 player, or a 'Tiny Sounds (4th generation) player' to give it its full title. The name derived from the fact that the very first models produced were only one cubic centimetre in size and yet able to hold an impressive zagobyte worth of songs. The tiny size was mainly just a marketing gimmick, however, and when subsequent models were introduced the size became closer to the size of mp3 players back on Earth, for reasons of practicality.

Anyway, Eric had decided to treat himself to one during his time in Sumai City. Strictly speaking, the funds that Jixyl and Azleev had provided him weren't meant to be spent on treats for himself but Eric had told himself that music makes him happy and being happy, he had reasoned, is an attractive quality and therefore if he was happy he was more likely to score and therefore treating himself to a ts4 player was beneficial to the mission.

 From a region in the north of Fem known as Sveltland.

 By 'nine out of ten' Eric meant a lass whose physical attractiveness he deemed equivalent to the rating of 'nine out of ten'. Obviously no dudes in real life use terms like this cos it's demeaning to women to refer to them by a rating. Obviously, dudes in real life obviously have a lot more respect for women and are generally more interested in inner beauty, rather than shallow superficial attractiveness, so dudes in real life would therefore never dream of using Eric's crass terminology.

 A region on Fem that, like Sveltland, also produced more than its fair share of fit lasses.

 Eric had asked Jixyl and Azleev to program the settings on his G.O.T. unit so that lasses would have accents. He chose this because although he liked the Geordie accent, the thought of a Sveltish lass with a Geordie accent was a bit weird and confusing. He therefore wanted lasses to have accents that corresponded to accents back on Earth that he found appealing, so this was how he programmed the settings on his G.O.T.

With dudes, however, he wasn't fussed about them having accents, and so every dude he met on Fem would sound to him like they had a Geordie accent.

 Actually, the biggest thing that stood out about Hex, to lasses at least, was that he was really good looking and had a really well-toned body. These two attributes may possibly have played a more significant part than Hex's relaxed attitude when it came to him scoring three times in the last week.

But Eric was judging Hex from a dude's point of view, and from a dude's point of view the thing that seemed to play a significant part in Hex's success was his relaxed attitude.

 Obvious because Hex himself was from Sveltland, not because he was being big-headed. He still spoke in a Geordie accent, however, because as previously mentioned this was how Eric had programmed the settings on his G.O.T. unit. He preferred lasses to speak with accents, but for ease of understanding he decided to have all dudes speaking Geordie.

 Or the Femling Football Federation Cup to use its full title. This was basically Fem's equivalent of the FA Cup.

 Fem's rough equivalent of Manchester United.

 Fem's rough equivalent of Accrington Stanley.

 Fem's rough equivalent of Arsenal.

 Fem's rough equivalent of Newcastle United.

 A famous, but rather unattractive, politician on Fem.

 Zonny and Kesta were actually from Georgeland but, as you are aware, Eric obviously wasn't actually from Georgeland, but he claimed that he was as part of his fake identity. The main reason for him choosing Georgeland was that when he was doing his research on Fem, Georgeland was the region that seemed to have the most in common with England and therefore Eric reasoned that a Georgish background would be the easiest to fake.

 Appa were a Sveltish pop band on Fem made up of two lasses and two dudes. The lasses wore distinctive beanie hats which Eric referred to as 'Appa hats'.

 Another popular nightclub on Ko Pagna Beach.

 The author would like to point out that not all vegetarians' bums are saggy. Some vegetarians still get a fair bit of protein in their diet and manage to maintain a decent amount of firmness in their bum. Not that I'm an expert on bums or anything. I'm just, like, saying. That's all.

 Which was actually blank cos she had already been told backstage who the winner was. But for announcements such as these the Femling public demanded envelopes so that was the charade that Keyla had to go through with in order to keep the viewers happy.

 So just to avoid any possible element of doubt, the phone voting on the Star Maker final ran totally smoothly. Nothing went wrong with it at all. The central telecommunications processor functioned perfectly that evening. I trust that clarifies the situation.

 Jixyl and Azleev had programmed Eric's G.O.T. unit to substitute any reference to booze with a reference to diquintenol, to trick him into believing their whole 'we don't drink alcohol to get drunk, we drink diquintenol' charade.

 Well, apart from that whole 'diquintenol' patter which he told Eric. Ar... and apart from one or two other majorly big lies which he had told Eric, which will soon be revealed in greater detail. So in fact when I say 'true to his word as always', it would probably be more accurate to say 'true to his word... in a dramatic break from convention'.

 The makers of A.T.S. had, for whatever reason, applied a twenty friend limit to group recommendations.

 Well maybe not like a twenty ton mallet cos that would kill him. Unless, perhaps, it was a very light tap.

 You might deduce from this comment that Monty's arithmetic skills weren't that great, but you'd be wrong. He was normally pretty sharp at mental numeracy but the sheer shock of the last few minutes had temporarily affected his usually sharp brain.

 Sorry, I'm stretching the joke out a bit now though, aren't I, so I promise I'll make that the last 'lazy profanity' reference.

 Until a couple of weeks ago Garth had been employed as a lawyer but had opted for voluntary redundancy as the package on offer was too good to turn down.

 Garth had recently split up with his girlfriend, Sarah, but it wasn't mentioned in the story as I deemed it canny insignificant compared to the impending destruction of the Earth. Admittedly the impending destruction of the Earth has now turned out to be a sly bluff by Jixyl and Azleev, but nevertheless Garth splitting up with his lass happened 'off-camera' so to speak.

 A Femling day, like a Fyraling day, lasted slightly longer than an Earth day and therefore Fem had a different system of telling the time to the system we use on Earth.

Incidentally, isn't a bit weird how every country on Earth uses the twenty four hours per day system? What with everything else, like weight and distance and volume for example, all having different measuring systems around the world, you'd also think there'd be a few places on Earth that would have different units of time as well, rather than just hours and minutes everywhere.

Actually... just ignore uz. I've since found out that the remote W'ta Tutu tribe in the hilly Northern regions of Peru use a different system for measuring time from the rest of the world, so my last comment proved to be true.

Ha! Ha! Sucked in! I was just full of patter! I just made that stuff up about the W'ta Tutu tribe using a different time system. The W'ta Tutu tribe doesn't even exist! I just made them up! Ha! Ha! Sponge!

Well... I mean, as far as I know they don't exist. If they do exist it's just by a fluky coincidence.

 Apologies for the excessive amount of swearing in recent chapters, but in the characters' defence there's been a lot of intense emotion floating around at the moment so it's probably understandable.

 A screen that admittedly could be edited, but Azleev had purposely never mentioned this screen to Eric, Monty or Garth, and therefore he hoped that it was unlikely that Monty had edited the details on it.

 Monty and Garth had indeed done a runner as they had previously discussed. The reasoning behind their decision to go to Magalluf was twofold:

Firstly, Magalluf is a very busy holiday location and busyness, they reasoned, equalled safety, as Jixyl and Azleev were unlikely to want to head to a busy location as this would present a high chance of them or their spaceship being detected.

And secondly, and perhaps more importantly, they chose Magalluf because it was totally full of fit horny lasses.

 Honest people don't need to point out when they're being honest because they're always being honest. It's only liars that need to provide clarification, and when they do so they are quite frequently lying.

 A Femling fruit named by G.O.T. after a similar fashion to chork.

 A Femling spirit.

 As you can see, Flon possessed the mathematical skills of a footballer.

 Sunderland fans.

 He had clearly grasped the concept of being deaf.

 This was quite a common way of selling concert tickets on Fem. When a band was big enough that they knew they would definitely sell out a venue they would often hold an auction to see who were the lucky fans to get to see them. That way, so the argument went, the fans who wanted the tickets the most would bid the most and get to see their heroes. And conversely, anyone that wasn't really that fussed would probably only bid a small amount, so that in the event that the gig was oversubscribed the most dedicated fans would be the ones that got to see the concert and the casual fans would be the ones that missed out.

At least that was the publicly expressed reason for concert ticket auctions. In reality, the main motivation for concert ticket auctions was that that way bands made more money. They squeezed the maximum amount possible out of their fans.

But, like, good on them and all that. I'm not knocking them or anything. I'm a firm believer in capitalism. The way to change the world is by the power of self-interest. So if bands can make loads of money by doing a tour then they're more likely to do more tours, so that means you get to see them play more often. So, like, everyone's a winner. So, like, three cheers for greedy capitalism. That's what I say.

Cos, like, if the profits from this book were going to charity d'you think I'd have bothered writing it? No way! If I was getting no cash out of it then I'd rather be going out getting boozed up every night than stopping in writing this. No doubt some people might think that was a good thing, but anyway hopefully I might make a bit of cash out of this so that's what motivates uz to write it. Self-interest is a very motivating factor. Obviously if the world was full of Mother Theresas then we wouldn't need capitalism and everyone's inner charitableness would be enough to motivate everyone into doing stuff, but the world isn't full of Mother Theresas. So that's why I'm such a big fan of capitalism.

As long as it's properly regulated, obviously. Obviously the government should have lots of clever legislation to reward the sound companies and punish the snidey companies and stuff. But, like, in general I have to say that non-snidey capitalism is totally excellent, like.

 On Fem even cheap watches were waterproof to a hundred metres as standard, so wearing a watch to a pool party wasn't a problem like it would be back on Earth.

 A flare kick was a celebration Eric used to do in his youth to celebrate scoring a goal. It basically consisted of running a few steps then jumping up in the air and twisting your legs up and to the side, then kicking them together in mid-air, then landing facing the opposite direction and posing with your arms in a 'gansta stylee' as you land.

 Fem's equivalent of an mp3 player. I've mentioned this already but it was a canny few chapters ago so I just thought I'd remind you again just in case you've forgotten. Apologies if you remembered though, and you're thinking, 'Here, man. I know. You've already told uz.'

 Apart from dancing, that is.

 This was the equivalent Femling gesture of giving someone the finger(s).

 A type of meat on Fem that was roughly similar to beef, only more tender and with a noticeably stronger flavour.

 You know by now obviously that diquintenol doesn't actually exist and that it was just a sneaky made-up invention by Jixyl and Azleev to ensure Eric didn't get drunk and blab or ask awkward questions. So you might be wondering why I'm still making references to getting DQed up, rather than making a reference to getting drunk, which is what Hex would actually have said.

Well basically the settings on Eric's G.O.T. were still programmed to replace all references to getting drunk with references to getting DQed up, so that was why I translated Hex's comment to read 'DQed up'. Technically, I suppose you could probably argue that Eric wasn't within earshot so why in this instance am I following the rules of his G.O.T.? But without Eric's G.O.T. Kesta and Hex would be speaking Femling, and I don't start typing Femling every time Eric isn't present. I stick to the Geordie English that Kesta and Hex's comments get translated into thanks to Eric's G.O.T. I do this partly because I don't myself speak Femling, but also because no-one reading this book speaks it either, so typing in Femling would be a bit rubbish. But anyway, for whatever reason, I don't start typing Femling whenever Eric is off the scene – I stick to what his G.O.T. would translate – so that's why I just decided to stick to the settings on Eric's G.O.T. when translating Hex's comments.

Or maybe you didn't give it a second's thought and I've just wasted a minute of mine and your time by typing out a load of irrelevant patter. If so, then soz. I'll try to more accurately judge your level of curiosity in future.

 Two lasses in two days.

 Or, as already pointed out by Eric, by being a class mother and wife, if you're a lass. Please note, Eric wasn't being sexist by talking in the male sense. He was just simply thinking about things from a personal point of view.

 At this stage Eric was still oblivious to the fact that there were actually four victims.

 Good news! All six of the 'How To Save The World' books are now available from various online ebook sellers.

Well... it's good news if you enjoyed this book, I mean. If you didn't enjoy it then I suppose you could more accurately describe it as 'news of little significance'.

But if you enjoyed this book then the rest of the 'How To Save The World' books are also available. Visit the Charles Fudgemuffin blog for further details.

 From Koh Pha Ngan in Thailand.

 And also by being a class husband or wife.

 Back then it was originally titled 'A Lush Snaky Trick' but this later evolved into 'How To Save The World' once I realised that the term 'a lush snaky trick' didn't really mean much to anyone outside of Newcastle.

