Genre: Humour/Sci Fi (a tad cracky maybe?)
Rating: T for a few naughty words
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester and Original Male Character
Word Count: 1,400
Disclaimer: I don't own them
I offered to write a story for a lovely lady who did some fabulous art for some of my drabbles, and this is the prompt that she came up with:
Prompt: "Dude… oh, sorry… Sir! It's an awesome place! But we shouldn't go here".
Aliens decide to captive humankind. A couple of aliens come to earth as a secret scouts. And run onto Sam and Dean at once. They begin to spy upon Winchesters, considering them as "normal". After some time one of the aliens send his report to the boss – about Winchester's life and absolutely in Winchester (mostly Dean) style - Jerk, bitch, awesome, Baby (aka Impala), pranks, salt lines everywhere, burgers, etc. (Aliens POV)
The following is a transcript of a sub-space report on undercover scouting activities from Field Agent Delta-Io-Capricorn-Kappa of the Neptunian Earth Invasion Task Force. Received by the Chairman Of Neptunian Earth Invasion Working Party after D-I-C-K's mysterious and as-yet unexplained failure to return to base.
*** TRANSMISSION BEGINS ***
My mission is to travel from our home world of Neptune to Earth and interact with the Earth population, examine their ways and identify their weaknesses so that I can report back to enable the Neptunian Earth Invasion forces to prepare adequately for conquest.
To facilitate almost seamless assimilation with Earth Population, I have been surgically altered to take the form of an Earthling male and I have adopted a name which, according to my extensive and thorough research, I believe to be extremely widespread. This will ensure that I do not draw attention to myself during my time on Earth.
I shall hereinafter be known as Budd Weiser.
My spacecraft touched down in a large field of tall, green crops in the mid-western region of the Untied State of America - I do not know why it is 'untied', but I will endeavour to find out. I felt it wise to apply the cloaking mechanism to ensure that my craft will remain undiscovered during my mission.
I had not left the crop field before I met my first Earth inhabitant, and attempted to introduce myself.
Earth inhabitant proved to be most uncommunicative.
He also appeared to be propping himself up on a very long stick. Perhaps he was indisposed? I took this to mean he wished to be left alone.
Have been wandering all night and found myself in yet another field of tall, green crops. Green colouration caused by Chlorophyll, chemical composition C55H72O5N4Mg.
This field had two uncommunicative Earthlings leaning against high sticks in it.
On this evidence, we could effect an invasion of Earth with my Grandmother; these Earthlings would stand by and say nothing.
I met two Earthlings who were not uncommunicative.
Particularly after I stepped out in front of their fast-moving black vehicle.
08.00 hours and 45 seconds
The Earthling who was built like one of Jupiter's larger moons appeared to exhibit concern for my condition after I bounced over the roof of their vehicle and rolled 47.6 feet along the asphalt road. Asphalt, chemical composition, CH4-C35H50. Tastes like ass.
The other was exhibiting another emotion with which I am not yet familiar; I have memorised his speech pattern for future reference: "You-friggin-blind-sonofabitch-what-t
I will consult my lexicon later.
I have consulted my lexicon.
I hope I do not meet these two Earthlings again.
I have decided, following my discovery yesterday that there are talkative Earthlings, to attend a place of refreshment where the population congregate. I will study their behaviour and listen to their conversation from afar. I have located an establishment that looks suitably popular.
I have researched Earthling drinks at length and feel confident that I will be able to make a purchase without drawing attention to myself.
Apparently a 'slippery nipple' is not the drink to request if you are a lone male Earthling and wish to remain unnoticed.
I was somewhat disturbed to see the two Earthlings from yesterday's incident walk into the drinking establishment.
On overhearing a section of their conversation, I believe they may be talking about me:
'I'm tellin' you bro', there's no way an ordinary dude could take a hit like that and get up and walk away; he's gotta be a friggin' shifter or something; we gotta try and track him down …'
This is encouraging; they appear to be concerned for my welfare. A friggin' shifter must be some form of occupation only performed by very strong Earthlings – my brilliant infiltration is working.
I distinctly heard them ask across the counter for my whereabouts by name:
"Hey man, Budd Weiser, please."
I decided to make myself known to them and try to befriend them; this could be extremely beneficial to my mission.
The two Earthlings were very interested to meet me and sit at my table. They are talking to me at length and in much more neutral terms than yesterday; I think they may become my friends as they are asking lots of questions.
They have purchased a beverage for me. It is called beer, (this is apparently a much more appropriate choice of refreshment for a male Earthling). Beer contains alcohol, chemical composition CnH2n+1OH, which has a relaxing and liberating effect on the brain.
This will be an interesting and educational experience.
Alcoholol is friggin; awesome.
I am attemptiting to stynchronise my preech splatterns with those of my new friends. I think Earthlings are a friggin; awesome race.
But very un-conordinated.
In the friggin' time that I have beeneen here, they have spilled friggin' water on me by assident, dropped friggin' salt into my beer by assident an' stabbed me in the friggin' hand with a silver fork, oh yeah, by assident.
At this friggin' rate we won' need to friggin' invade them; they'll wipe themsel's out - by friggin' assident.
Neverthelessh, my new friendsss are friggin' aweshome.
Fri'hhg'n *hic* awesh'mme.
Some godforsaken friggin' time – who cares?
Beer is friggin' poison
I'm friggin' dying
Apparently, I am not friggin' dead.
I'm in the back of my friends' friggin' vehicle which is called Baby. We're travelling swiftly along an asphalt road similar to the one on which we met.
I don't fully understand why I'm wearing friggin' handcuffs. Perhaps it's some kind of safety restraint.
It's not a friggin' safety restraint.
This pair of lunatics dragged me out of Baby and into some friggin' concrete bunker. Concrete, chemical composition – Ca3 S ... oh, who gives a friggin' shit?
I'm tied to a friggin' chair in a friggin' dungeon in the middle of a friggin' painted circle and they keep accusing me of being all sorts of friggin' crap; a demon, a shifter, a vampire, a friggin' werewolf? I keep telling them that I don't know what any of these friggin' jobs involve.
I've had a seven shades of friggin' Saturn pummelled out of me, a friggin' gun pointed at me and friggin' lumps carved out of me.
But not once have they guessed that I'm a friggin' surgically altered Neptunian undertaking black operations on behalf of my planet's Earth Invasion task force.
My skilful undercover ruse has friggin' succeeded.
My mission is now over and here's my friggin' conclusion:
These people are friggin' pumpkin-pie-eyed batshit-crazy.
Me an' my ship, Baby, will be flyin' our asses out of here just as soon as these friggin' madmen let me go.
I don't recommend invasion of this Godforsaken rock. I don't recommend visiting it. I wouldn't even recommend lookin' at the friggin' place through a friggin' telescope.
I hear Pluto is nice this time of year.
*** TRANSMISSION ENDS ***