A thousand thoughts cross my mind. Is Plucky going to shoot Susan out of jealousy over Deadpan? Why is Lmao looking at me? I, the inveterate peacemaker, blurt out the first thought that comes into my head: “Deadpan isn’t attracted to Susan because Deadpan doesn’t respond to beauty.” Now everyone’s staring at me; Plucky lowers her ray gun, and Susan walks over and looks into my eyes. Lmao never jumped off a cliff; he says it was just a bluff.
This is the scene as it unfolds in my yard: Susan is standing frozen next to Deadpan who has just dropped his antenna. Plucky, too angry to even speak, is pointing a ray gun at Susan. Lmao, who heard the racket and ran over here, is crouched behind a bush. Plucky approaches Susan. “Stay away from Deadpan, he’s mine,” Plucky says fiercely. Lmao jumps up. “Plucky,” he says softly. “She doesn’t want Deadpan.” Then, for some reason, Lmao looks at me. After Plucky made it through a sandstorm, Lmao said she must have a lot of grit.
Deadpan has built a quantum transceiver to attempt to communicate with life on exoplanets. He likes to set up in my yard at night, and lately with a loosening of social distancing restrictions, Susan has been dropping by to help. Shy around the rest of us, she seems at ease with Deadpan, possibly due to his lack of affectation. Last night as Deadpan was holding the antenna and Susan was steadying him, Plucky showed up from between the bushes and pointed a ray gun at Susan. With a look in her eyes such as I have never seen, Plucky shouted: “Let go of him you wretch.” When I told Lmao that I was double jointed, he told me to pat myself on the back.
Even as our newly discovered island resident Susan is living with Plucky, she has made regular visits to the edge of the barrier to communicate with her parents. Today her father paid us a visit. Although he set down his stick before entering Plucky’s yard, he gazed upon us with suspicion and barely grunted acquiescence when his daughter pointed out her new arrangements. I might be imagining things but I thought he looked at me longer than he looked at the others. I asked Lmao how many musicians were in his orchestra and he replied: “more than you could shake a stick at”.
“Papa forbade me to go beyond the barrier,” Susan began. She was referring to the mass of thorns and thickets that separates us from the isolated center of the island. “Using a machete, I carved out a bower in the thicket, enlarging it gradually to the outer edge of the barrier.” She looked at Deadpan and me. “One day, I witnessed the two of you chasing your intruder. The sight of intelligent life outside of my family aroused my curiosity in an overwhelming way.” I asked Lmao how he hurt his forehead and he said that he, a Martian and an Earthling walked into a bar.
Plucky whispered to the woman, then glanced around the room. “This is Susan,” she began, “at least according to the translation software.” She looked at her notes, then continued: “Susan lives with her mother and father in a cavern in the mountains of Alien Resort island. Her family, like us, arrived here from another part of the universe, attracted to the island by the same magnetic circumstance that brought down Coy’s ship. Susan, I’ll let you piggyback on that.” Deadpan says that if he keeps going to all these meetings, the chair will begin to recognize him.
I entered the conference room for our spur-of-the-moment meeting, and my jaw dropped. Sitting between Plucky and Lmao and talking back and forth with them was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I knew but couldn’t believe that this was the same woman whom, screaming and disheveled, I had assisted in securing to a chair just over 24 hours earlier. She glanced at me; I regained my composure and took a seat. I asked Deadpan how fast light travels, and he replied: “faster than you think.”
Plucky stopped by this morning and brought me the most astonishing news: The woman who is now a guest in Plucky’s spaceship is an extraterrestrial who has lived in a remote area of Alien Resort island for thousands of years. The woman told Plucky she wants to meet with all of us and share her story. I sent the king an email update, then went to Deadpan’s shack to inform him about our meeting to take place this afternoon in Plucky’s conference room. When I asked Deadpan if I could borrow his suspended animation chamber, he said: ”Knock yourself out”.
We knew we couldn’t just leave the woman tied to a chair so Plucky had me help her carry the chair into the spaceship’s parlor, a secure room; then I left. Plucky stopped by my ship later that night and reported that the woman was now untied and asleep in the parlor. Guessing that the woman was the one who had taken the lipstick, Plucky calmed her down by appealing to her vanity, helping her bathe and dress, and summoning roommate Lmao to don a mask, do her hair and assist with makeup. Lmao couldn’t get the lid off the ointment jar. He said: “therein lies the rub.”
As we observe the woman struggling in her restraints and muttering unfamiliar syllables, Plucky explains that she caught her breaking into a shed. She told her to stop, and when the woman charged, Plucky demobilized her with a mini static electricity generator. Plucky’s translation software is finally booting up, and the first words we hear are: “Let me go, outsiders, or we will hurt you.” When I asked Deadpan to use a cuss word in a sentence, he said: “Right now my mind is a blank.”
I was walking along the beach this morning when I heard a shriek, followed by a commotion originating from the direction of Plucky’s ship. When I arrived, Plucky was struggling to restrain a young female, all covered with mud and extremely disheveled in appearance. Plucky shouted for me to bring a chair, and together she and I sat the woman down and secured her to the chair. Lmao once knew a cave woman; he says he carried a torch for her.
Police Chief Deadpan booked the prisoner into a large space under the pier and stood guard as Plucky conducted a psychological exam. Mr. Devers told her that while growing up he used to skip school and barely made it through. He agrees with Plucky that skipping school was a way to get back at his alcoholic parents for ignoring him. He says he joined the Beacons of Night because they made him feel important. He says they treated him like an equal, and made him forget how stupid he felt whenever he was in the company of educated people. The leaders told him he’d be a hero if he joined the mission to steal our comics. Lmao used to drop a lot of classes; he says he had it down to a science.
Anyone reading my posts knows that I was raised by a father who told me I would never amount to anything. I learned to deal with my feelings of inadequacy by avoiding difficult tasks, and thereby avoiding failure. Plucky, our resident psychologist, told me to plow ahead anyway with difficult tasks (such as giving speeches) in spite of my feelings, and with time, those feelings would subside. Although I’m much more convinced of my ability than I used to be, I was nevertheless surprised and humbled when the others knocked on my door this morning and said they wanted me to act as a judge in making a decision about the fate of our prisoner. Lmao handed me a black robe that the king had sent over, and ranking officer Plucky swore me in. My first order was for Plucky to conduct a psychological exam of Mr. Devers. At first Lmao didn’t want to become an explorer; he says now he’s starting to cave.
The cat licked its paw while Deadpan handcuffed the prisoner. We made our way back to the cave entrance and set the captive down on a rock. He said his name was Ronald Wayne Devers. His orders were to come ashore with the others and act as a lookout. Then the others left him behind because he stumbled and fell. After they deserted him, he hid in the cave. He says he stole Plucky’s cat because he was lonely. Lmao once asked some prisoners for help but they told him their hands were tied.
Police Chief Deadpan and I put on camo gear and face masks and headed through the woods. Just as we were about to enter the cave, the cat emerged from the dark. “Stay,” Deadpan told it, and the cat ran back into the cave. Deadpan shrugged, then we followed. We pointed our flashlights as the cat led us through a labyrinth of paths and passages, finally stopping at the entrance to a chamber. Deadpan shone his light inside, and we spotted the fugitive lying down fast asleep. Lmao says his cat waits for him with bells on.
“Play that footage back one more time,” Deadpan demanded. In all these years I had never heard him speak with so much emotion. We’re standing (apart) in Plucky’s control room watching some unbelievable security camera footage. Last night the fugitive Beacon walked into Plucky’s yard and stole her cat. “Let’s go get that guy,” Deadpan said to me. He exchanged a glance with Plucky; then we left. When a thief tried to steal Lmao’s sand, Lmao said: “That’s where I draw the line.”
Last night’s footage from a security camera shows the fugitive breaking into my supply shed. The only things missing are a gallon of vanilla ice cream, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and a bowl and spoon. The fugitive was apparently very hungry, as it appears he mixed the ingredients while still here, and left a trail leading away from my shed. Deadpan tracked the drips through the woods to the entrance of a cave in a remote area of the island. Lmao once dropped his ice cream into a volcano; he says he totally lost it.
The Beacons of Night wasted no time in claiming responsibility for the theft of our comics. But missing from their blog post is any mention of the cohort they left behind on Alien Resort island. We’re speculating whether leaving him was accidental and they’re planning to return to rescue him, or if they meant to leave him to create additional mischief. We’re engaging in these discussions at the same time that Deadpan, now the island police chief, is coordinating a hunt. Ground control once told Lmao that his spaceship was overloaded; he says they were talking trash.
We’re watching as Plucky plays back the footage from the island’s security cameras. A small boat comes ashore in a remote area and three humans set foot onto the beach, then disappear into the dunes. A few hours later, the camera reveals two humans reboarding, our comics in hand, and the boat setting sail. The look on everyone’s face turns to one of deep concern: An intruder is lurking on the island. I asked Deadpan if a one-inch footprint could be human, and he replied: “That’s one small step for a man.”
Our meeting to discuss the lost comics was scheduled for tonight but Plucky moved it up to noon. We logged into video conference, and Plucky began to speak immediately. She says that while reviewing security footage for clues on locating the missing comics, she made a stunning discovery: Two nights ago, a boat came ashore in a remote area of the island, and three humans disappeared through the dunes. As bad as that is, some of the follow-up footage is even scarier. Deadpan told me that he recently bought an acre of land that turned out to be quicksand. Then he added: “But the plot thickens.”
“Deadpan and I have an understanding,” Plucky began, as she put on a pot of water. “It’s not the world’s greatest romance, I’ll admit. We both give what we can.” I replied that I understood, and I really do. Deadpan has limited capacity for emotion, and Plucky has already explained how her father’s emotional distance left her in a vain quest for attachment. “We do what we can,” was all I could think to reply. Lmao went on a dating site; he says it crashed just as they were beginning to click.
I needed some distraction before the meeting so I got up early this morning to go fishing with Lmao. I headed over to Plucky’s spaceship where Lmao lives, and was surprised to see Deadpan coming out a side door. He seemed surprised to see me too; he murmured something about configuring modules then hurried away. A light came on from inside and Plucky opened the door. “Come on in,” she said. “You might as well know everything.” When I told Lmao that I would be at his door bright and early, he said, “Knock on wood.”
[this event was recorded prior to coronavirus–Coy] I’m writing this post as the cruise tender boat approaches the pier. I wish you could see this place. We stayed up most of the night putting up banners (a big one in the center and one at each side), hanging paper lanterns, and blowing up balloons. We can hear the tourists’ voices as the boat draws near. Some of them are waving at us and a few are shouting to attract our attention. I’m busy rehearsing my speech while the others prepare to secure the tender. Lmao once had his spaceship painted; he says they did a number on it too.
The cruise line that docks at the king’s port has approved our application to host an excursion at Alien Resort island. A tour boat will dock at our pier three times a month and a group of tourists will walk onto the beach. From there I’ll lead them to the pavilion and give my introductory speech. Afterwards, we’ll proceed to the viewing area, where we’ll mingle and answer questions. Then they can visit the gift shop before reboarding their boat. Deadpan once got approval for a clinical trial; he says it was a shot in the arm.
A final requirement of the cruise line is that we maintain a basic stock of concessions for sale to the tourists along with souvenirs of their visit to Alien Resort. Lmao jumped at the chance of running the gift shop. When he admitted he didn’t know the first thing about money, Deadpan surprised everyone with a business plan and a spreadsheet calculator program he had written himself. Online visitors can purchase Alien Resort souvenirs at our online gift shop. Lmao says he could go into the candy business and make a mint.
Over the years we’ve done a lot of construction on the island, and some of that will be put to use to accommodate the tourists. We have a boardwalk leading from the pier, and a supply shed at the end of the boardwalk. This is where we’ll build a pavilion and set up chairs for the tourists to listen to my introductory speech. Deadpan and Lmao are serving as my pretend audience but sometimes they break out laughing even when I haven’t said anything funny. Deadpan says bricks are the best building material because nothing else stacks up.
As we struggle through the application for hosting a cruise excursion, a voice inside me says this is the easy part. The hard part will come when the first tourists arrive and their eyes are on me waiting to hear me speak. I’ll probably start thinking about how I negligently crashed my spaceship. Plucky says I’m creating this scenario because my father used to tell me I was going to fail. She says that negative past experiences create bad thoughts, but assures me that my speech will go just fine because I have the power of will. Lmao once had a bad camping experience; he says it was a real bear.
We met today in the conference room of Plucky’s spaceship to prepare a plan for the Alien Resort island excursion. The cruise line is looking for an adventure that will resonate with its customers while we at Alien Resort need the excursion to be manageable and respectful of our privacy. The others tell me I’m a natural for the job of guide but, putting it mildly, I’m not as confident as they are. Still, the cruise line needs a plan, and we’re putting it together for better or worse. I asked Deadpan how astronauts got into space. He says they stood on the shoulders of giants.
The island where the king resides has a port for docking cruise ships sailing from the mainland. As with all ports of call, the cruise lines advertise various excursions to sites in the vicinity of the port. All of us realize that hosting an excursion at Alien Resort will come with drawbacks. On the other hand, as shown by the example of the gamers, insulating ourselves completely from the rest of the world isn’t going to be possible. Deadpan recommends the Antarctic cruise; he says it’s Christmas in July.
Our landlord the king texted me stating that he wanted to talk to all of us together. We met in the conference room aboard Plucky’s spaceship and the king appeared on Skype. “The world’s beginning to take notice of Alien Resort,” he began. “The gamers brought home tales of their visit here, and everyone is curious. Unquestionably we must avoid another onslaught, so I have a proposal.” I asked Deadpan if he thought he would become a fortune teller someday. He said he doesn’t have a crystal ball.
I received an email today that must have been sent to me in error. The sender was a cruise line asking about the depth of our harbor and whether we allowed the sale of alcohol. All I could think to do was forward the email to the king, since I know he receives cruise ships from time to time. Lmao once brought a bottle of liquor aboard his spaceship; he says he put a dent in it.
The island was ours once again, and it was time to celebrate. Lmao helped Plucky decorate her conference room, we had pizza and ice cream, and then Plucky stood up to speak. “We’re honored to be in the presence of royalty,” she began. Turning to Deadpan, she continued: “There isn’t anything we can do that would restore you to your princely realm in your alternate universe. But here’s what I have in mind.” A moment of silence is a solemn event; Lmao says it’s nothing to sneeze at.
We led the gamers to the pier and watched as the king’s landing craft inched its way to the mooring. Several sailors jumped out and lashed the ropes. Another sailor, in uniform, walked down the ramp and over to where we were waiting. The gamers grumbled as we instructed them to look up from their phones, then grew quiet as the sailor began to speak. When he announced that all of them were being invited to a lavish buffet aboard the king’s ship, they burst into cheers. When Lmao said he never gets any party favors, Deadpan told him he has to toot his own horn.
We’re bringing cookies, crackers, and candy to the beach as fast as we can–Earth teenagers can really eat. Meanwhile the king informed us that he has stationed a contingent of ships off our shore. He stated further that the ships are intercepting gamers and taking them aboard. The strategy appears to be working as the onslaught of arrivals has slowed to a trickle. The teenagers are reporting sea monsters; Deadpan says there must be something in the water.
We always knew that Deadpan didn’t arrive at Alien Resort by spaceship like the rest of us. Instead, his story reads like something out of science fiction: Deadpan once lived in an alternate universe. For some technological or political reason his situation became untenable and he escaped through a wormhole. Now for the first time we’re learning that he was a prince who presided over a large realm, and that his creation of the video game Alien Search is a manifestation of a natural desire to create and preside over a sphere of influence. When I told Deadpan that I once changed careers and began making airlocks, he said: “One door shuts and another one opens.”
Then we turned to Deadpan and asked him what he knows about the computer game Alien Search. Deadpan never gushes but he seemed immensely proud as he explained how he conceived the idea of a reality game and then developed the software for Alien Search. Plucky was furious: “How could you hide this from us?” Deadpan looked surprised then replied that he thought he was the only one interested in this type of thing. Deadpan also has an idea for a toy but he doesn’t know if it’ll be successful. He says it’s a cat and mouse game.
Justin is telling Plucky and me that he learned about the Alien Search computer game from a popup ad on his smartphone. According to the ad, the first level would be reached when the user purchases a ticket to Hawaii from a sponsoring airline. Justin states that his mother lets him use her credit card for after-school events and has never told him that he isn’t allowed to purchase plane tickets to Hawaii. Lmao invented a fireproof suit but he says he’s not about to ride off into the sunset.
As Plucky and I scan the beach wondering what to do next, our attention is focused on two areas of interest. First, all of the gamers who arrived after Justin are treating him like a rock star, snapping pictures with their phones and recording his every move to share on their social media accounts. Of greater concern to us however is the fact that Deadpan is always at his side, whispering to him and helping to keep the crowd at bay. We summoned both of them to my spaceship. I don’t understand the appeal of impressionism; Deadpan says it’s just different strokes.
I’m beginning to lose count of the number of rubber rafts washing onto our shore. An occasional ka-ching sounds forth as one more gamer touches onto the beach and announces his or her ascension to a new level. As I help with their rafts and direct each of them to a shaded area, Plucky and the others hurry to and from our spaceships, bringing sunscreen and juice boxes. Lmao had a race with a whale once; he says it blew him out of the water.
Plucky picked up an unusual radar signal which she at first mistook for whales. I brought a telescope to the beach and was eventually able to make out what appeared to be specks in the water. As they drew closer, I realized that the specks were actually rubber rafts, each carrying a young Earthling gamer. I ran and told Plucky; then I texted the king. When I told Deadpan that someday I would like to travel beyond the horizon, he said that’s out of sight.
Lmao has learned a new word. Justin followed Lmao to the other side of the island and Lmao showed him how to climb a coconut tree. When Justin’s phone awarded him a level, he pumped his fist and declared ‘ka-ching”. Now whenever a coconut hits the ground, Lmao pumps a fist and laughs: “ka-ching ka-ching”. When Lmao heard they were looking for actors for a jungle movie, he said: “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”
Plucky and I met in her control room and did some research; we were unable to find any information for the computer game Alien Search. Yet somehow Justin has made his way to our island and appears to be quite comfortable among us. Of particular note is that he and Deadpan are hitting it off so well; looking at them you would think they were long time friends. Deadpan once used a time machine that didn’t have any shock absorbers; he says it was a throwback to another era.
Our landlord the king spoke to his contacts on the island of Saipan. Apparently the boy Justin hired a fishing boat in Saipan to carry him and his raft to near our shore. The king said he would arrange for one of his ships to pick Justin up but that it would be a few days. So it looks as if we’ll be tweensitting for a while. When I told Justin he would be staying on the couch in my spaceship, he looked at his phone, pumped his fist, and declared: “ka-ching ka-ching ka-ching”. I asked Lmao if he ever gave a pacifier to a baby, and Lmao replied: “yes, for crying out loud”.
Deadpan and I brought the boy Justin and his raft to the lagoon beach near my ship and set up some chairs. Then I sent an email to the king and awaited his response. From Justin’s account, his arrival at our island credits him with a level in a computer game called Alien Search that he plays on his phone using satellite internet. The yard outside my ship is yet another level: when we arrived at my yard, he looked at his phone and declared, “ka-ching ka-ching”. I asked Deadpan if there was any way to fix my gyroscope; he said he would level with me.
The boy who washed ashore in a rubber raft says his name is Justin. Plucky helped him from the raft, led him to a cabana, and ran to get me. When Plucky and I arrived he was looking at his phone, talking with Deadpan and drinking from a juice box that Plucky had given him. He says he’s a computer gamer. I asked Lmao if he believes in the sea monster; he says he wrestles with it.
My previous post told about an editor who was so impressed by the courage shown by Dans Cartoons that he decided to reinstate Alien Resort comics. Later that day, more editors wrote me and said that they too would run the comics and begin using the ones with Plucky’s scripts. Apparently readers from all over the world have been writing to the editors asking for the return of Alien Resort to their local newspaper. I told Deadpan that the horizon makes me queasy; he said it’s not the end of the world.
Earlier this week an editor wrote us and said he was going to reinstate Alien Resort comics and that he would begin using the ones with Plucky’s scripts. He said he had heard the news about the courageous offer from Dans Cartoons and had done some soul-searching. He said he concluded that we’re men, not mice. I had to look that up. Deadpan used to work in a research lab but he got tired of the rat race.
Just when our spirits had sunk to their lowest low, a voice from out of nowhere has sparked a glimmer of hope. Dan Rosandich, the owner of Dans Cartoons, wrote to say that he will not be intimidated by the Beacons of Night, and has offered us a gig. Mr. Rosandich says he has a spot for our comics in the extraterrestrial section of his cartoon catalog. Dans Cartoons creates cartoons for professional and commercial projects, and will custom make them for any purpose. We wrote back thanking Mr. Rosandich for his courageous offer and letting him know that we’ll keep it in mind as we sort through our current crisis. Lmao used to associate with a business crowd but he lost all his ties.
We sent out the first of Plucky’s scripts and the results aren’t encouraging. Every editor who has written back has told us that although the comics are just as funny as anything written by Mr. Davis, they are going to hold back on publication until Mr. Davis is released from jail. Right away we suspected that the Beacons of Night might have a hand in the matter, and a recent post on their website confirms this. After we got the news, Lmao plopped down on his pillow; he had eaten his fill.
This is my last post before I turn things back over to Coy. Deadpan and I had an interesting conversation yesterday. Every time I talk to Deadpan, he surprises me with his insight and depth of understanding. He told me that he’s cognitively aware of his inability to express emotion. He said he also knows that I like him, which made me blush but at the same time feel a sense of warmth that we knew each other well enough to lay our cards on the table. He then asked me why I would like him if he may never be able to reciprocate. I thought about that for a while, and then replied that my father wasn’t emotionally available. This made me gravitate toward relationships where closeness was unlikely, and in that way I couldn’t be rejected again. I asked Deadpan what would be a good way to study psychology; he said there are different schools of thought.
While Lmao has a natural sense of humor that’s similar to a human comedian, Deadpan’s sense of humor, if he has one at all, isn’t conventional. This doesn’t surprise me, because his right brain functions are largely elusive. Still, he says some very funny things. The way he explains it is that he used to stay up late listening to a particular all night Earth DJ who would say something using a double meaning and then play a laugh track. From this Deadpan surmised that Earthlings enjoyed double meanings. When we got the internet, Deadpan spent his time scouring databases for double meanings, and now he’s built up a large repertoire that he’s contributing to our comedy team. I asked Deadpan to assist me with some brain wave research; he said he would put on his thinking cap.
I’ve known Lmao for over two thousand years, including seventy that we spent together on a spaceship en route to rescue Coy. Lmao has a natural sense of humor that’s similar to what I see in some of Mr. Davis’ scripts. I’ve come to the conclusion that humor, and certain types of humor, are universal. This is a fortunate circumstance that we can use to our advantage as we assemble scripts for Alien Resort comics. Lmao is going to order the largest pizza in the universe; he says he wants everything on it.
I’m in my spaceship awaiting the arrival of Deadpan and Lmao for our first session of creating a writing team for Alien Resort comics. I stayed up late last night looking at some of our comics and analyzing why they make people laugh. Two things stand out: First, the humor comes from double meaning. Second, the comics are one hundred percent non-serious. My first thought about this second part was that some people are always serious and they won’t find the comics funny. I told Deadpan we’ll only have ice water to drink; he says he’s cool with that.
If you’re wondering who adds a funny anecdote to the end of each of Coy’s posts, that’s me. I get these true life tales from the funniest guys I know, Deadpan and Lmao. Because of this experience, Coy has appointed me to work with Deadpan and Lmao to assemble a comedy team in support of our mission to perpetuate the survival of Alien Resort comics. My first rule for them was: no more sleeping until noon. Last night they watched the comet; Deadpan says he missed the tail end.
For those who don’t know me, I’m the captainess of the spaceship that’s currently grounded in the middle of Alien Resort island. I’m going to be narrating the next several posts as we develop a writing strategy for Alien Resort comics. First I want to say a word about Coy. I can’t think of anyone I would rather work with. He says he feels a deep sense of guilt that I travelled to Earth to rescue him and became stranded myself. I tell him that leaving him here never existed as an option, and anyone can become stranded. I don’t consider my current circumstances to be a plight, as I’m in the company of those whom I love the most. Lmao once hid from a rescue party because he heard they were out to get him.
Plucky says she’s begun working with Deadpan and Lmao to develop a plan for writing new comics. She’ll be narrating the next several posts to report on their progress. Our landlord the king said he’ll help in any way possible; last night he sent over pizzas. And I’m learning everything I can about Photoshop because I’ve taken over Mr. Davis’ task of creating images for our blog posts (Please don’t laugh; I’ll get better). Deadpan’s working on an art project; he says it’s not a very pretty picture.
I’m writing editors to let them know that Alien Resort intends to continue making comics and that we hope to be able to provide an uninterrupted supply. Most of the editors are understanding although a few are reluctant to work with me. One of them said he only deals with humans, and that he’ll stop publishing our comics as long as Mr. Davis remains in jail. Meanwhile, Plucky says she’ll work with Deadpan and Lmao to develop a plan for writing new comics. Humans like to look attractive; Lmao says it’s in their makeup.
I just returned from the meeting at Plucky’s spaceship and I’m deeply moved. I went into the meeting convinced that the future of Alien Resort comics was resting on my shoulders. I now realize that I’m a member of a truly great team with the four of us sharing a common goal: to exert all possible efforts to emerge from this crisis. Lmao once attended massage school; he says he rubbed shoulders with some truly great masseurs.
As the shock from the arrest of our writer begins to recede, I’m ready to stop wringing my hands and begin figuring a way forward for Alien Resort comics. David Davis Jr. sent me a list of newspapers publishing Alien Resort and wished me luck. I’m not sure what I can say to the editors since we don’t have any new comics to send them. We’re going to have a meeting tonight in the conference room of Plucky’s spaceship. Deadpan’s lightning rod was expensive; he says nothing shocks him anymore.
My father told me I would never amount to anything. I decided to prove him wrong. At the age of eleven I ran away from home and learned how to fly a spaceship. I got a job doing research and traveled by myself across the galaxy for seventy years. I made a navigational error and crash-landed on Earth. This morning, with that mistake weighing heavily on my mind, I’m waking up to the realization that the future of Alien Resort comics is now in my hands. Lmao says that once when an entire football team was mad at him, his main concern was looking out for number one.
None of us is saying much these days. Our writer’s in jail and there’s nothing we can do to help him. And since we’re not getting any scripts, we’re having a hard time staying busy. What worries us most however is the uncertainty that lies ahead for the future of Alien Resort comics. We had just begun thinking we were going to fit in as productive members of Earth society; now we’ll be regarded as freeloaders. Our comics were spreading to more and more newspapers, and all of a sudden we have nothing to send them. Deadpan says that when he was a landowner, he had a lot to keep him busy.
Plucky is teaching Deadpan how to use telepathy. He says he isn’t getting it. Whenever Plucky speaks aloud, she talks about technical issues like radar and satellites. Deadpan says he isn’t receiving these kinds of messages telepathically. Instead all he hears is what he describes as mushy things. He says he’ll keep trying. Lmao says he once met someone in gyroscope school–they were soon going steady.
After a few weeks had passed, we received a response to our “situations wanted” inquiry on Craigslist. A writer named David Davis wanted to make comics for newspapers but was having trouble developing characters. We sent him our bios and did a Skype; then he sent us some scripts. The arrangement has worked out better than anyone ever imagined. The four of us now have a workday we can look forward to, and Mr. Davis has been successful in getting our comics published in Earth newspapers. Lmao once bought a second-hand rover; it drove him up a wall.
With the advent of the internet, our lives at Alien Resort had improved dramatically. Gone were the days of sitting around with little to do and nights with nothing but far off radio stations to occupy our thoughts. And now, thanks to our wonderful landlord the king, we had regular supplies. But as everyone knows, having more doesn’t keep you from wanting more. And what we wanted most were additional ways to occupy our time. Consequently we published a “situations wanted” ad on Craigslist. Lmao once invented a new way to send a message; he says he shouted it from the highest mountain.
Our writer Mr. Davis received a visit from government investigators asking whether we had anything to do with those lights in the sky reported by military pilots. Mr. Davis told them that all we do is make comics. He said that the last thing we would want is to cause trouble for a planet where we’re trying so hard to fit in. The investigators said they were acting on a tip. One thing we know is that the Beacons of Night recently blamed us for the lights in the sky. When Lmao invented a ray gun he said his planet’s police were so interested that they were beating down the door.
None of the food brought here by the king’s sailors was the least bit familiar to us. All we had known in our lifetimes were the foods from our home planets along with those native to Alien Resort island. We used the internet to help us decipher the information on the packaging. Lmao, who came from a family of carnivores, eyed the canned hams. Plucky, having heard about sweets on the radio, couldn’t resist opening a chocolate bar. Deadpan wanted nothing but vanilla ice cream–he said it seemed like such a simple concept. I began with a bag of Cheetos because the package said they contained real cheese. Everyone wants to eat the best food possible; Deadpan says that’s only natural.
Plucky got a beacon from her spaceship and used it to guide the king’s landing boat into our harbor. Two muscular sailors dropped a ramp onto the sand. A man in a uniform walked down the ramp and asked who Coy was. I raised my hand slowly. “I‘m the ship’s captain,” he said kindly. “His majesty the king extends his greetings to the residents of Alien Resort island.” I shook his hand. More sailors disembarked and met with Plucky, Deadpan, and Lmao, seeking instructions on where to bring the supplies. Lmao was right about the best way to carry luggage; he rests his case.
Everything seemed to be happening at once. The king’s sailors, Earthlings, were coming to Alien Resort island, and they were bringing supplies. We spent the next week painting the pier and dredging a small harbor for their landing boat. We had long discussions. What would they be like? Would they talk like the overnight DJs on Earth radio? Would they stare at us? The king said the cargo would include a few basic medical supplies; Deadpan thinks they’re just what the doctor ordered.
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.
About twenty-five years ago Plucky picked up a signal from one of Earth’s artificial satellites. “I didn’t know Earth was using this frequency,” she said. “I could build a transceiver.” Within a month we were receiving internet messages. We found out that Alien Resort island is part of a kingdom–we decided to contact the king. Plucky thinks it’s possible to construct a living creature; Deadpan said it would take a lot of nerve.
A speedboat carrying four young men and displaying an Earthlings Unite flag ran out of gas just outside the zone of the force field. The men were armed with slingshots and a fireworks cannon. A ship belonging to the king who owns Alien Resort island pulled up alongside. The men in the speedboat asked the sailors if their ship had a buffet. The sailors gave the men gas and cheese puffs and told them not to come back. Lmao can’t wait to eat his hamburger; he says it’s dead meat.
Plucky built a radar station at Alien Resort during Earth’s twentieth century. We weren’t in danger at the time but atmospheric sampling alerted her to advances in Earth technology that could someday pose a threat. Recent events have called for extensive testing of the radar system. When Plucky was trying to figure out how to calibrate the radar signal, Lmao told her she could bounce it off him.
The Beacons of Night announced that the navy they are using to approach and attack Alien Resort island is employing stealth technology. This explains why we haven’t been able to spot them on radar. The problem we have is that our force field cannot be continuously deployed; we must wait for the enemy to draw near before turning it on. Deadpan says he has a cat who waits for him with bells on.
Our plea for advice on how to build a force field has paid off. Engineers have responded from all over the planet Earth. The eleven dollars we collected in our GoFundMe campaign was just enough (with a coupon) to buy the parts for a force field fifty percent nuclear fusion and fifty percent quantum entanglement. If the Beacons of Night attempt to invade Alien Resort, they will be obliterated. The engineers want us to help them move an atom; Deadpan said it was the least he could do.
The above clipping is from the April 25, 2019 Mountain Ear newspaper (Nederland, Colorado). Following is the complete text (byline Edmund Itor):
If I could do it all over again, I would never become a newspaper editor.
Everything started a few months ago when I got an email from a guy who writes comics. Mr. Davis asked if I would like to publish his comics in the paper. I told him no, there isn’t any space. And there isn’t, because we have a lot of advertisers, and advertisements are what pay our bills.
But he kept pestering me, and his comics are funny, so I told him I would run one a week on a trial basis.
The comics are called Alien Resort. According to Mr. Davis, there really is a place across the sea called Alien Resort. Mr. Davis says he writes the scripts for the comics and sends them over the internet to the resort. There the comics are rehearsed and assembled by a team whose members arrived here from other planets and are now stranded on Earth.
Coy, the founder of Alien Resort, crash landed on Earth after a five-hundred-year interstellar flight. Plucky, a bossy spaceship captain and her sidekick, a comedian named Lmao, broke down while trying to rescue Coy. Deadpan, another funny guy, arrived later.
It turns out the resort is in a bit of turmoil. The radical organization Beacons of Night is claiming that since the extraterrestrials aren’t from Earth, they don’t have the right to work here, and therefore must stop making comics.
The island upon which the resort is situated is part of a kingdom, and the king has given his blessing for the four to live at the resort and make comics.
Since the situation at Alien Resort is currently in a stalemate, the Beacons of Night have begun other strategies to persuade its occupants to stop making comics.
The Beacons compiled a list of all the newspapers that are publishing Alien Resort comics and sent letters to the editors warning them not to publish any more comics.
I received such a letter about a month ago and tossed it in the trash. Last night somebody painted graffiti on our building with the Beacons’ slogan “Earthlings Unite”.
This is an example of what it’s like to be an editor. No matter what you do, somebody isn’t going to be happy.
One of the reporters asked me if I’m going to run an Alien Resort comic tomorrow. I told him no I’m not going to run a comic. I’m going to run two of them.
The developing story of Alien Resort continues on the Alien Resort website at https://alienresort.net.
The king who owns the island where Alien Resort is situated has offered to assist us in any way possible. If the Beacons of Night enter his territorial waters, he’ll regard it as an act of war. He has a small navy and they practice every Tuesday. Lmao once tried to invent a curved gun but gave up; he says he could shoot himself.
Plucky told me that she and Lmao have been friends for over two thousand years. Yesterday Lmao asked Deadpan if he thought Plucky was attractive. Deadpan replied that he knew Plucky had been making some electromagnets. Last evening I saw Deadpan and Plucky walking along the pier. I had never seen them together on the pier at sunset so I figured they were looking for something.
It’s fixed now–If you click the play button and video doesn’t start, click “YouTube”–Coy (23 seconds long)
Alien Resort needs a force field badly. Our GoFundMe campaign is about to enter its third week. The problem is more complex than we thought. How do you build a force field around a Pacific island sufficient to protect it from invasion by a small navy? Please use the comments section or the Alien Resort website contact form to convey your ideas. I asked Lmao how many arithmetic classes he attended; he said he could count them on one hand.
We’re trying to see this from the Beacons’ point of view. According to them, when we make comics for newspapers, we’re stealing jobs from Earthlings. Our writer Mr. Davis assures us that only extraterrestrials can play the roles required by Alien Resort comics. I asked Mr. Davis if an Earthling could dress up like an extraterrestrial and make Alien Resort comics. Mr. Davis said he would have to rename them Dressed Up Like Alien Resort comics. He said editors wouldn’t want them. Lmao once attended beauty school; he says if he ever goes back he’ll have to take a makeup exam.
We have set up a GoFundMe page to help purchase parts for a force field. The Beacons’ seaborne invasion is drawing near: We have a limited amount of time to raise the money, order the parts, and deploy the force field. Deadpan knew a mother cat who needed help, and everyone contributed to the kitty.
If we had to stop making comics our lives would become boring, and I know what that’s like. When I crash landed on Earth, I spent the first hundred years building a transmitter to contact my home base. For the next hundred years, stranded on this island, I didn’t know what to do with myself; I just kept transmitting and hoped for the best. Then Plucky and Lmao arrived, also stranded, and it wasn’t long before the three of us didn’t know what to do with our time. Then, finally, Earthlings got the internet, we built our internet transceiver, Mr. Davis contacted us, and we started making comics. One day a long time ago, after we had discussed possible methods of crossing the ocean, Lmao suggested that we play bridge.
One of the editors summoned our writer to her newspaper office. The editor had heard that the Beacons were planning to invade Alien Resort because they don’t like us making comics. She said some of her readers are taking the side of the Beacons, believing that the extraterrestrials shouldn’t be allowed to make comics because they’re stealing jobs from Earthlings. She told those readers she would take their views into consideration but assured Mr. Davis that she was going to continue running Alien Resort comics, at least for the foreseeable future; Lmao says we should invent a key card; it could open a lot of doors.
Rumors are swirling that the Beacons of Night are going to invade Alien Resort. Apparently they know somebody who has a navy. The Beacons say they’ll reconsider if we agree to stop making comics. Deadpan remembers an enemy attacking during lunch; they ordered it to go.
The Beacons of Night are telling everyone that Alien Resort is creating a comic about mutants, and that we’re using humans as subjects. Deadpan says that if the authorities demand a sample of his blood, he’ll just bite his lip.
The Beacons of Night claim we’re holding Earthlings hostage at Alien Resort. They’re saying their drone sent back pictures. A couple of things: first, their drone didn’t transmit any data, and second, I don’t know what we would do with an Earthling if we had one. Lmao said cloning them would be a good way to make friends.
The Beacons of Night claim that the drone we intercepted belongs to them. They say the drone relayed findings to them that are going to surprise everyone. We’re already surprised because we intercepted the drone before the radio transmitter could be activated. Lmao says at first he thought the drone was a vulture with a bone to pick.
One of our editors tells us that someone painted graffiti on the wall of his newspaper’s office with the Beacons’ slogan “Earthlings Unite”. Deadpan says they probably used so much paint because they had a case of the blues.