A constituent phoned to the Guhvenah's Office with a complaint about a Predator-type alien holed up in a house in Buhbank. I try to be a hands on Guhvenah and hahving extensive experience in such situations, I thought it might be fun to take on this job myself. I ahwived to find a lahge slimy lump of Jello with ahms cowering in the cahner as a ahmy of small mice mahched fowahd holding out offerings of cheese. I would swear that the alien wahs crying like a baby. Afraid of mice, and they call me a gurly man.
Citizens of Buhbank, allow me to be the first to inform you that the slimy lump of jello has been turned over to the proper authorities. The Office of Homeland Security said they would put the culprit on the next bus to Tijuana.
I was pleased to hahve rectified this problem so quickly, as I have a meeting with my good friend, George W. Bush. I have been wanting to share my plan for insuring his reelection: Have the FBI ahrest all registered Democrats as suspected terrorists and ship them off to the Guantanamo Bay terrorist holding fahcility.
All Hail ME! Yes, the great and valiant Zongo returns to conquer your puny species, but with a fresh championship buckle from winning the Universal Planet Conqueror Sumo Wrestling Contest. Although Ming the Merciless took first place in almost every other contest held, he is a lightweight and did not even qualify for the Quarterfinals in Sumo Wrestling Event. Actually, both myself and my eventual opponent in the Final Match went undefeated to that point, as we have these past three years. However, unlike the previous three years, Jabba the Hut did not prevail. Nope, this year, yours truly, Zongo the Ruthless, is the Sumo Wrestling Champion of the Universe. There will be a zapping moratorium in celebration of my victory for the next 24 hours, except for any who wish to launch any lactic acid containing products into my headquarters during such period. Let me change that. I am going to engage the automatic zap cannon with the motion detector, whose range is 500 yards, so everyone who remains a distance of 500 yards or more from my headquarters will be spared from any chance of being zapped for the next 24 hours. Now, can I hear a round of cheers for your fearless conqueror, Zongo?
I have discovered that there are those on your world, namely one Mr Mouse, assuming a grant of right to exercise authority in my absence due to my tolerance in not erasing them all. Do not think that I cannot observe all activity on this communication system or my ability to access the controls of such from my current remote location. Al Gore is actually one of us, and he invented your Internet. We have been observing your activity through such communication system since its origins. Do not assume authority which has not been granted!
First of all, I actually won the captioning contest over on Who Tends the Fires. In addition to that esteem, Zongo took off to some distant planet, if my eavesdropping on his electronic conversations are to be believed, to assist his friend, Ming, and may not return for some time. At his open invitation, I am throwing a lavish mouse party. It seems that the assorted throng outside has no idea that Zongo is not here and some of them are still throwing huge wheels of Wisconsin Cheddar through the broken bay window in the front room. My guests resemble a school of piranhas in the manner in which they greedily devour each incoming wheel of cheese.
Well, as some of the regular readers might have seen, Lord Zongo has allowed myself and the army of mice I assembled to retake this house to become a part of the household in conjunction with his occupation. I have freely skittered here and there all day long without a hint being shown by Lord Zongo that I or any of my troops is in any danger. The place is free of cats, as well, so, for mice, we seem to be about as secure as mice can be. In addition, people keep throwing large bits of cheese through the windows, and have done so on such a regular basis since I have returned to this house that I am beginning to grow very very fat from consuming mass amounts of such delicious cheese. I am finding that we seem to be provided with more cheese than my entire army is able to consume and it is starting to pile up. I am calling for reinforcements and am finding myself needing thousands of willing mice having a healthy hankering for cheese to volunteer their services. Are you with me, brothers and sisters?
I might have miscalculated when I started this battle. I thought finding a place as a headquarters and then ridding it of all its occupants so there would be no interruptions while I was working on sighting up all the rest of the planet's occupants at the other end of my ray gun. Well, first of all, I am finding more resistance that I expected, because these earthlings do not understand that certain biological weapons are outside the rules to use and they keep throwing cheese at me. Thankfully, with the great electronic barrier surrounding my headquarters, very little gets through, but, still, enough has gotten through to make me pretty ill. Thankfully, the little gray varmints have come to the rescue. The little beasts actually eat cheese and convert it into these little harmless pellets that easily melt into the slime. They eat every scrap of such they find. I started to zap them when the first one or two showed up. I noticed them sniffing among the slime on the floor near where I was resting, trying to regain the strength that has recently left me, and, as they continued to nibble here and there, I began to feel my strength return. My superior intelligence tells me that means there was still some type of cheese infestation within my headquarters and that these vermin were finding and eating such cheese. Come one and all, you little vermin. Please feel free to eat every scrap of cheese you find!
Oh, my aching and throbbing cerebrum. I feel so weak. If I did not know for a fact that I have installed the best anti-cheese security system two stinking dead humans could buy, I would think there had been some minor amount of cheese smuggled through the barrier and scattered among some of the slime on the floor. The floor is definitely more moist than I remember.
The strangest thing is that for some reason, I found myself coming to in the armory today, as if I had fallen asleep or something right in the middle of the floor holding a broken ray guy. Of course, it might have become broken when I hit the floor. I am a bit unsure and unsteady on my feet right now. I am not even sure what day this is. It might be time to summon Dr. Bombay.