Dear Alien Captors, I should have known that this really nice vacation resort was not all it seemed at first. That was my bad. I could never afford a place like this unless there was a big catch, like being transported to an unspecified planet at the end of my vacation. Thank you for all the pizza and Oreo cookies, but we’ve had enough now and you can quit offering to bring in more over and over. I suspect that you know that this stuff is not on my diet. In fact, it seems to me that you are intentionally feeding us fattening stuff…wait…is this like a Hansel and Gretel thing? Are you TRYING TO FATTEN US UP TO EAT US???
And why do you keep promising to let us go home when our cell phone numbers are projected on the wall, like that alarm clock at my mother’s house? I’ve been standing here in this crowd of people for quite a while and no one’s number has been projected on the wall yet. In fact, these are not even phone numbers. They’re just random groupings of numbers, like 796 or 41823. Those aren’t phone numbers where we come from, Alien Captors. You really should have done your homework. If we are actually supposed to go to your spaceship when our cell phone number appears on the wall, then you are screwed, because no one’s moving since you didn’t bother to get our actual cell phone numbers when we checked in to this “resort”.
I must admit, though, for Alien Captors, you’ve been quite courteous, but the ruse is up. I can tell from these weird sparkly poles everywhere that you know it’s Christmas time on our planet, and you are making an effort to be festive and welcoming, but it’s time to let us go now. We all have more shopping to do. Plus our mothers and grannies and spinster aunties will lose their minds if we are abducted and don’t show up on Christmas day. You really don’t want to experience their wrath, Alien Captors. They will beat you severely about that appendage that appears to be your head and neck with their Guideposts and Prevention magazines and invade your planet with their old lady friends from their dominos groups. Next thing you know, you’ll be wearing ugly Christmas sweaters and Santa suits, making yourself sick on fudge, and singing “A Holly Jolly Christmas” around the piano. Trust me, Alien Captors. It’s best for everyone if you just let us go. But thanks again for the pizza, and happy whatever kind of holidays you may or may not celebrate on your undisclosed planet.
Hey, Mr. Spaceman, won’t you please take me along?
May as well start learning the words, Alien Captors…
And now for something else completely ridiculous…
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