(A Superventative Glitch Interpolated Into the Content of the Original Chapter Sequence)…
   Adapting to the climatic and bacterial conditions of the variable spheres of the planet, the Gaseous Energy Gods set up their station, and rendezvous coordinates, at a remote location that would hardly be populated by the inhabitants of this new world; therefore, reducing the risk of being observed and subsequently published in another one of those mainstream grocery store check-out tabloid newspapers. Sketchy fragments of the radio broadcast of “War of the Worlds” had been picked up by their craft almost forty sonic years away, and feared that the shock and awe might generate forms of retaliation from the planet’s higher intellectual beings if they might have been discovered too soon. ‘Moses’ had commented that their new appearance should actually be quite acceptable to at least 97% of the higher carbon-based intelligence and to stop worrying over these physical iotable details. Another of the Gods became defensive and mentioned in slight conversation that this inconsequential race of terrestrials had evolved enough within the last few Earth years to accept them liberally without some form of consternation…but, if they had been accepted conservatively; then, with a flick of this switch, they would be altered into some other form of primitive protoplasm. The Gaseous Energy Swine quickly intervened before the rest had gotten too galvanized and stated that the “Hibernatonic Period” was quickly approaching and that he would stand as an lookout while his comrades were ‘napping’, construct the ‘all-purpose, all-encompassing, all-intergalactic-language translation relaying module’ (i.e.- Galactic Language Interpretation Barometer…or, to put it succinctly, ‘G.L.I.B.’) into operation, and to make sure that the loamy mounds that they would be encased under would not be disturbed by any of the foreign creatures. The others paused a couple of nanoseconds to think it over, then agreed to Pig’s proposal and were rapidly laid to rest.
     After twenty-three months had passed, Pig had quickly evolved into the surrounding environment of his outpost. Eating life-support items, such as indigenous vegetation and ground mucilage, grub worms, berries, enriched fibrous cow-droppings, and an array of other delectable delights. It wasn’t long before Pig became bored and started to venture away from his buried shipmates. As his curiosity accelerated, Pig took a portable version of ‘G.L.I.B.’ with him, translating some primitive plant species, water-collection habits, seasonal flowering and dirt-dobbings. It only seemed that rock was dead after the Gods had decided to come down here. Sensing some fragrant remnants of burning oak, legumes and sour methane over the next hill, Pig cautiously walked to its’ crest and excitedly reported to the ‘Memory Log’ his first encounter with an alien race of human beings (or beans, in this instance). Before resting on his pork loins to get a closer look at these masticating sapiens, Pig ran into two prairie dogs playing frivolously in the weeds in front of him. Deciding to experiment with his portable ‘G.L.I.B.’ on some higher life forms, Pig pointed the translation receptor in the prairie dogs direction, hoping to answer some questions regarding sociological practices of higher intellectual, deductively analytical beings…
     “…but, it’s gonna start snowing in a couple of weeks and I wanna get my fill before everyone else starts to snooze off into Never-Never Land!”
     “What a line, Jethro! Couldn’t you come up with something better than that?!?”
     “Oh, c’mon, Petunia…just a quick nookie, then it’ll be over! Please?”
     “So…how many of you prairie prancers use that line at the local cheap-slut pick-up den?”
     “Whatta’ya talkin’ ‘bout, honey bunny? C’mon…quit being hard on all the guys!”
     “OH! funny. So now it’s Honey Bunny, eh?”
     “Ya’know…just a little hair off the dog! That’s all! I’ll bring you a fresh swarm of dead crickets for an evening snack.”
     “You are unbelievable. Why can’t you be a little more sensitive, instead of just thinking about yourself? A little more…romantic…if you please.”
     “Well…duh…ummmmm, hmm?”
     “Here we are sitting in front of a shiny campfire with the embers glittering under the pale moonlight. The stars are out and twinkling. The mood is ambivalent. The night is cozy and young…”
     “Awwwww, C’MON…what about those stinkin’, tobacco-chewin’ rednecks sittin’ ‘round the campfire? What if they…ummmm…see us?!?”
     “Do you think they really give a hoot, Jethro? I swear that I’ve seen some of them do more dishonorable things to their own pack mules, for Prairie Maker’s sake!”
     “Well…okay. I’ll give it a try.”
     “Lookie here…I’m gonna be ROMANTIC!!! Now, where do I begin?”
     “Look, doofus…start with some intimate foreplay.”
     “You mean, like those crazy-ass plaid-pant wearin’ city folk that try to hit their dimpled balls all over some manicured fields?”
     “Are you serious? Just forget it…”
     “Ohhhhh…I get it! Foreplay! Here we go…YEEEEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
     “STOP! GET OFF! STOP, YOU IDIOT! I SAID ‘GET THE HELL OFF!!!’ What in tarnation do you think you’re doing? FOOL!”
     “I thought I was being romantic.”
     “Far from it, hairball!”
     “Mmmmmm…how do I…errrrrr…”
     “Listen up, BOY…take it slow. Time is on the ladies side. Dazzle me first with some of your sweet verbiage, concerned feelings, intimate soul-searching and charisma…and then I might give up some of those things that you’re really interested in. Understand?”
     “Hmmmmmmmph! Well…sort of! Okay! What do ya think of this? It’s a little poem that I made up a couple of seasons ago. Ugh…here we go…”
                It ‘twas the night before Groundhog Day,
                And all through the roots,
                Not a’human was stirrin’…
                Not even a Moose!
                And in came a’creepin’
                Through the portal of her home,
                A one-eyed wonder weasel
                That went by the name of ‘Ham Bone’!
     “OKAY! Okay! Enough, already! (Sarcastically toned) I’m dazzled!”
     “Ooouu-gosh! Wait a second, Jethro. I have to lubricate…”
     “Hah? Oh…okay. I’m sorry. Maybe I should get you goin’ first with a little of my specialty…paw rubbin’. Awww, hell…ah’one and ah’two and…ugh…oh, yeah…THREE!”
(Hoppity-Humpity-Hoppity-Humpity…so on and so forth…ad-lib…or, should I say ‘Ad-Libido’? Anyway…Hoppity-Humpity-Hoppity-Humpity…)
     “Ohhhhh, Jethro! Your paws are so soft and those marmot lips are so tender and PBPBPBPBPBPBPT! Ooops! Tee-hee…excuse me! Sometimes air will get caught up in there…”
     “Holy matrimony, Petunia! No kidding? At first, I thought it was one of those cowboys comin’ over here to drop a fresh one! Whew! I’m tired…”
     “After fifteen seconds!”
     “You’re one hot dog, Petty!”
     Pig turned off his static ‘G.L.I.B.’ disgruntled and distraught then slowly returned to his outpost, thinking that this whole mission was now a complete waste of useless time.
*Ed.: If you happened to make it this far, without burning this written material for reasons of heresy, then you might as well continue so you can at least get your devalued money’s worth.
(There’s that guy Ed, again. Where in the hell did he come from? He’s like a bad dream about naked turkeys and colonists with slingshots…)
(Shut up!)
End: Chap. 2