I’ve been abducted by aliens. Just in case you were wondering where I was.
Am.
Yoo-hoo!
I’m here. Looking down on earthykins from the spacepod I’m sharing with my rather leathery complexioned companions – they’re dark grey, bucktoothed quadrupeds. It’s a bit like travelling on a brake-fucked mini bus with a load of dermatologically troubled rabbits. It smells stuffy. Like the inside of a packet of Monstermunch.
Hurtling through space with a bunch of aliens has its drawbacks. For a start, internet cafes are like rocking horse shit.
Incoming!
Hence the lack of radio contact. Don’t worry about me. I am being fed well on …erm…stuff. I suspect they are conducting experiments on me, or they might just be tickling me. Not sure. I have been informed they will release me soon, before the next series of Star Academy begins (phew!) Their leader, a rather camp Hell’s Angel /Bugs Bunny hybrid tells me the planet-like dimensions of my buttocks are being assessed for asteroid deflection suitability. Apophis is creeping ever closer and a solution has to be found. If I have to sacrifice a piece of my arse to save the universe, I will. What’s another crater?
Will you please stop doing that?..It's disgusting...Vile creature...
- Mya
- I left London after sixteen years when the congestion charge was introduced. I now live a pleasantly uncongested life with Spouse and Sprog halfway up a mountain in the French Pyrenees. Yes, it's true, France is another country...but the country-side is another planet! The adjustments are ongoing, sometimes painful, often interesting. I recently completed my first novel (edgy, commercial fiction for women, if anyone's interested!)and have a second one under construction. I welcome the interest of literary agents,publishing houses and chocolate manufacturers. Email: mya.france@gmail.com © Missing You Already, 2007/2008/2009(written content)
If you fancy a little more of me...read me here...
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10 comments:
Bloody hell Mya, here I was thinking you were on holiday and you're out there making history. Blimey. Come back soon, and erm, I wouldn't let them near your buttocks if I were you, they might bite.
I'm glad you phoned home as I was wondering where you were.
LOL!
Jo and Dumdad have said it all!
They're definitely feeding you something or other.
More tripe anyone? :-)
The truth is that Mya is getting arseholed in the cellar of the local vinter, having contrived to get herself locked in around Bastille Day, she's actually fed us fib after fib about the holiday while she attempts to become even more fish-like - but on vin not on water. It's true. Oh yes.
Mya, you don't happen to know where you are do you? Exactly I mean? Only I think we saw some of the aliens you describe in Hastings on Saturday night sitting astride huge throbbing, erm, motorbikes and talking in a language that I struggled to comprehend. David wouldn't allow me to sit and try to decipher what they were saying in case, in his words, they took me "back to their bloody mothership".
I think you are being pickled in a barrel of vin rouge, while drinking from it at the same time. Pickled buttocks are a specialty in some countries. Are you maybe being transported on a camel? Or on a donkey's back up a steep hill? Try to make your escape and hitchhike back home. We miss you.
So which planet are you on, Mya? Come back soon!
Is it possible that you've been swept up in the eye of Hurricane Gustav? So by now you could be anywhere west of California.
Come back soon sweet Mya.
Pigx
Jo,
My buttocks were still very much in evidence last time I looked - so if they did bite, they weren't over keen on the taste.
Dumdad,
You don't get rid of me that easily!
Aims,
Hello mate!
Iota,
What are you suggesting?
Brennig,
How could you doubt me so, you swine? Mind you, a lock-in at the Bastille sounds like a good idea. They would have a well stocked cellar I should imagine.
Nun,
Somewhere between Pluto and Uranus, according to the GPS.
Irene,
I'm back! Like a bad penny, as they say.
Maggie,
I have re-entered the earth's atmosphere and am careering, headlong towards a small red dot amongst a sea of green. I think it's Sprog's toy wheelbarrow, abondoned carelssly in the back garden.Hope I don't melt it.
Pig,
I'm back!Put the kettle on!
Mya x
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