Twenty-five years ago, using our newly built internet transceiver, we found a chat room hosted by the king who owns Alien Resort island. We typed a message, telling him who and where we were, and waited. Finally, his three word reply: “Good God Almighty.”
After the king’s initial surprise, he said that since we weren’t causing him any trouble, we were welcome to remain on the island. He also asked if we needed any supplies. We cheered. Our spaceship storerooms were empty and we were tired of eating fresh fish and exotic tropical fruits. Lmao’s ancestors were forest dwellers; he says he has pictures of the family tree.