Enter Finnegan Blakely and the 'space monkeys'.

Enter Finnegan Blakely and the 'space monkeys'.

By Kiko Korea

Finnegan Blakely waited and waited. The sun made him sweat and his
company made him nervous.

"Say Finnegan, when do you think the aliens are comin'?" Inquired Beala
Tully, a small squat pregnant woman assimilated by a floral maternity
dress. Finnegan took a drag of his never-ending cigarette, groped his
jaw and primed himself for a gravel answer.

"Well little lady, I hear they taken Baker's blue 30 miles beyond that
yonder and, as I come to figure it, it's gonna be either this fair town
of Fleeplewood or our poor unfortunate brotherly neighbours of
Hudsonville. I bettin' it's gonna' be Fleeplewood, we've got a
videostore."

"What are the aliens gonna' want with a video store?"

"Interplanetary communications Beala, interplanetary communications.
How else are they gonna' contact their mother ship at Endor, or where
ever the hell they come from."

"Say Finnegan could I have a cigarette?"

"Filtered cigarettes in your condition! Here, have it unfiltered, after
all, you're smoking for two."

"Gee thanks Finnegan."

"Just you remember Beala, that ain't just yours and Hank's little Rug
rat in there, it's a future soldier of America, some one like myself,
who will defend the shores of this fine and free land from anyone who
wants a piece of it."

Fleeplewood was a small desert town made up of only a handful of
houses, a convenience store and the video shop. Finnegan had kept watch
on the corner of Fleeplewood for the past week expecting to bag his
first alien. Finnegan wasn't your average desert Joe. Former marine
with a pendent for shooting and not shaving he revelled in his newfound
marshal law. It was customary now for Finnegan to walk Fleeplewood and
greet town's folk with an AK-47 in hand, belt of bullets across his
broad chest and a pair of hand grenades- it gave him a warm glow.

Both figures stood silent, Finnegan glanced at his watch, swatted flies
from his chin; Beala kept brushing back her straddled bob, being thrown
around by the coarse desert wind. "Finnegan what happens if the aliens
have ray guns or anything?"

"What if, what if&;#8230;. Beala those little commie scum have got
them, it's a scientific fact. They could vaporise a man with the pull
of a trigger. I bet they even lay eggs in your throat and burst out
your chest. No one's gonna' god damn burst through Finnegan Blakely's
chest&;#8230;it's taken me years to get pecks like these."

"Well what you gonna' do Finnegan? We'll all be doomed."

"Whoah not with 2,000 rounds a second of antitank artillery pumping
those little green assed space monkeys." Finnegan turned, smiled at
Beala and began to whisper, "I commandeered myself a little US marine
retirement present from uncle Sam. I'm now a one-man goddamn army. An
NRA special member that even Ben-Hur would be proud of "

"What was that Finnegan?" Asked Beala impishly.

"A T-5000 sitting right over there in my trailer." And so it was as two
hundred metres away sat Finnegan star spangle bannered abode with
200-millimetre cannon protruding from his kitchen window.

"Well it seems you're all prepared Finnegan. I feel a whole lot safer
now."

"Not for much longer Beala I think they're coming." In a matter of
seconds a gleaming, spinning disc had descended down from the mountains
and began to land in front of the unwelcoming party. Beala hid behind a
wall while Finnegan just lit another cigarette. From the gleaming
silver disc lowered a platform and after a short delay out walked a
gaggle of short grey aliens with elongated heads and bulging black
eyes. The all stood in front of Finnegan, who stood there thinking of
what he was going to say, but the aliens broke the silence first.

"We are the Quin' Glay and we have travelled millions of light years to
this beautiful world. We have over a period of three earth months
brought enlightenment and peace to your world. No longer will you
suffer disease, war or famine. You will enter a new and beautiful age
in the evolution of your precious species. We hope we can be your guide
to this new frontier." The alien smiled at Finnegan who slowly took a
deep puff of his cigarette and sunk his voice very low.

"You god damn hippy, commie, green assed bastards. You ain't
indoctrinating me with any of your new age shit." Finnegan lowered his
gun and squeezed the trigger, a volley of metalliferous slugs sailed
from the firearm's flashing barrel and impacted several times upon the
first alien's fore head sending up a ferocious spurt of green blood
from the fresh wounds. The alien was hurled into the air and crashed to
the ground ten feet away. Finnegan then turned his attention to the
rest of the group and in one heated flurry reduced the godly band to a
pulpy green mess of fluids and body parts. Finnegan unpinned one of his
grenades, hurled into the open alien spacecraft and dived for cover
behind the wall. The grenade exploded within the hull of the ship
ripping the vessel apart from the inside. With in a few seconds the
area was raining alien alloys; Finnegan took another drag of his
cigarette. "Alien conspiracy my ass." He retorted.

Over the next few days Finnegan moved all the towns folk into the video
store with his T-5000 anti tank cannon and he waited and waited. But
little did Finnegan know that the aliens always had bigger guns, and
less friendly approaches. It wasn't just Finnegan with an agenda.