(Cue static and cracking sounds, somewhat white-noisey)
Omoz: Good morgenstern to ye people of the Earth! It is I, Omoz of the 8th Sapphire Planet, come to you with radio show that is not betwixt compressed leaves and smothered in black dyes.
Margon: And if you have been following us for many years now, welcome, welcome all, to this new…heel? Boot? Stage, maybe?
Omoz: I believe it is called a platform, my dear Margon. Many apologies to you, my dear people of the Earth. We are still very new to this digital business. My goodness, what a shock it was when we initially started this endeavour!
Margon: I’m sure you all must be wondering, what is it that these aliens speak of? Well, fear not. We will rejuvenate-
Omoz: Retaliate?
Margon: No, no, recount – that’s the word – our stories to you. Today, we shall tell you about this encounter we had when crossing the star system. My, my, the Sun, is that what you call it?
Omoz: Yes, they call it the Sun. Big gas ball. Very flambe. Nice place, my cousin had a wedding there a few moons ago, I think? So yes. We had planned for a tour of the Earth – a fan tour, I would call it, seeing as most of our fanbase lies on Earth. It has been many years, and quite rightly, for we have been dormant. And thus, we set off on our space-cycle.
Margon: Ah yes, the space bus was unavailable. Too many comets had caused great damage, very big dentables. The size of plumballs, I say. Oh, how I miss plumballs…
Omoz: There, there, Margon, it is all right to miss the food of the planet when on vacation…
Margon: But do you not see, Omoz? We are not on vacation. We are trapped! We are fish! We are swim fish in a bucket and we cannot get out and they will salt us and fry us and eat us at dawn!
Omoz (blinking in confusion) : What mean you by that? Who will eat us?
Margon: But we are fish!
Omoz: We are most certainly not fish – I tell you, this Margon, she/he gets things so mixed up sometimes – we are exoplanetariums!
Margon: Do you mean exoplanetarians? A planetarium is a building, no? The one where they store planets?
Omoz: Ho ho, you might be right about that, Margon, excuse my language. But I still don’t understand – what fish?
Margon: I have heard it being said – fish in a bucket! No way out! And these humans, they stab the fish and roast it and eat it!
Omoz: You misunderstand; surely you must be thinking of the phrase ‘fish in a Braille’. It is simply a shape of speech, which means ‘no hope in sight’.
Margon: But how is that any better than being salted? You know how we need to moisturize, do you not? And is Braille not the means by which the De-lighted Ones communicate?
Omoz: …..
Margon: I am certain you must be mistaken, but for once, I do not have the inclination to right your wrongs! We are trapped!
Omoz (exasperatedly): Margon, first of all, we are not trapped, we are simply confined to this room without food and water for the next month or so because we have travelled from afar and did not predict the invasion of the 19th species. Drum those calendrical systems, they must have swindled us.
Second of all …. (refers phrasebook) ….. ah yes, apologies, I meant to say ‘fish in a barrel’. It is but a means of expressing a difficult situation, which we are most certainly not in.
Margon: Are we not?
Omoz: Thankfully, no. There is a crevice here than seems to be covered by a plank…and we can walk outside? Odd, I would think these humans’ idea of hospitality was to keep us in here for at least a year; they must be inhospitable hosts indeed. The better for us, I say.
Margon: What about the invading species?
Omoz: I’d personally like to meet it. It’s always nice to learn about new cultures, do you not think, Margon?
Margon: I suppose….Well, yippeegayoo then, let’s be off!
Omoz: And with that, we shall see you on the next episode of The New Radio Show! Stay tuna for more!
Margon: Tuna? It should be ‘toon’, I think? Stay toon for more! We will see you on a cultural rendezvous next! Arrivederci!
My Literary Fantasia 