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John Samuels · (03-28-2013)

The annoying beep of the EAS continues for several seconds, with the camera panning away to reveal a small tv on a stand, with the Emergency Alert seemingly burned into the screen. The beep stops as the television shows the word ‘mute’ in the bottom corner. As the sound from the television disappears, a distinct, heavy breathing is heard--growing continually louder as the camera moves about the dark room. It appears to be a bunker or a basement of some time, the windows all boarded up. The room is pitch black with the exception of the television’s dull glow.

“They’re here.”

The whisper pierces the silence, at the same time the television goes black, leaving the room in darkness. A few seconds pass in the silent abyss before a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling springs to life. With the click of the light bulb’s chain, the seated pair of John Samuels and Ann Fairchild are dimly lit- both clad in camouflage hunting attire, holding shotguns and wearing what appear to be hats made of aluminum foil. Samuels’ eyes dart around the room, as Fairchild fights to hold back tears. With eyes wide open, Fairchild looks directly into the camera.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it has finally happened. An invasion is underway and we’re under attack! As much as it pains me to say, we were not prepared for this: A three pronged attack. That’s right. In the past few hours we have been invaded by Mexican Argentinians, Asians with even more complicated names, and homicidal, atheist aliens.”

“Wait, a Mexican Argentinian?”

“Well, she claims to be from Buenos Aires, but also claims her ethnicity to be Mexican.”

“Hold on, I thought Buenos Nachos was in Mexico? South Mexico if I remember correctly.”

“That’s not right.”

“Yes it is, all those places down there are just different Mexican territories. You’ve got the Brazilian Mexicans, the Peruvia Mexicans...”

“Have you ever been to South America?”

“No, I heard the water makes you sick and I’m not a big fan of burritos.”

“They eat more than burritos.”

“Tell that to my house keeper. Everytime she comes back from lunch she smells like the bathroom of a Taco Bell."

“That’s borderline racism, sir.”

“I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. So I take it this Mexican lady isn’t here to pick tomatoes or clean hotel rooms? Great, just what the XWF needs, another Mexican here to take the job away from perfectly willing, capable Americans. Have we done a green card check? I bet her social security number belongs to an elderly man living in Albuquerque. And let me guess, she hasn’t bothered to learn the language?”

“Well, she actually does seem to struggle a bit.”

“OF COURSE SHE DOES! They all do. They hop our fence, or dig under it, or hide in vans, or however they come across... and they disgrace our language, disgrace our history and disgrace our country. And here she is, trying to take something else away from America-- my title belt. Well that’s certainly not going to happen. I’ve worked far too hard for some sombrero wearing, chihuahua toting, foreigner to take it away from me. And speaking of eating dogs, what on Earth is a World1-International? Is that even a name? Why not one of those traditional oriental names... Like Ping Pong or Dim Sum. You know, that actually has a ring to that, Dim Sum. So, Dimmy, you’ve decided to join this little battle royal of ours? Are you slant-eyeing my title? Do you love it long time? Well that’s going to be an especially tall order for you. You better get on your knees and pray to Godzilla that you get eliminated early, because General Tso won’t be riding in to save you from the beating you’re due for."

“Any other Asian jokes you want to fit in?”

“I was kind of on an egg roll, huh? Or do you think it was too crab cheesy?

“Really, that’s enough.”

“I was just Playstationing around.”

“STOP.”

“Fine."

Fairchild pulls out a folder labled ‘Classified’ and hands it to Samuels. Samuels quickly skims through the contents and looks back at the camera.

“And those aren’t the only threat we face, people. For years, we’ve wondered if there was extraterrestrial life wandering around space waiting to make contact with us. And it is my duty to inform you all that they have. And Kinwrathi is indeed one of them. The government has been keeping tabs on him for longer than he’s been a member of the XWF. And this file I hold contains the shocking details of his time on Earth. You see, the Kinwrathi you see today hasn’t always looked this way. What I’m about to reveal to you is confidential government information on the real Kinwrathi. You see, quite some time ago Kinwrathi made his first trip to Earth, and he was a much different individual-- a kind, yet funny invader, who warmed the hearts of the countless individuals that were victim to his wacky antics. This, is the old Kinwrathi.”

With a sigh, Samuels reaches into the folder and pulls out a picture. He holds the picture up directly in front of the camera.

“That’s right. Kinwrathi was the alien our parents all knew as ‘Alf,’ the loveable little cat eater. What happened? Well Kin-Alf-i couldn’t handle handle his star fading. He was so accustomed to the limelight that it crushed him to no longer be America’s favorite alien. And it twisted him. And crushed him. And now look at him. He’s a creepy little thing. A creepy little thing that really has no place in tis industry. Quite frankly, I can’t figure out what he came back for. Another sitcom? They’re putting all kinds of garbage on television, I’m sure ‘Kinwrathi & Friends’ could be a major success! He could run around with his creepy little friends stabbing fat people and insulting people’s intelligence, without and real basis to do so. And they could sing songs. Kinwrathi looks like he could belt out some great stuff. They’d be this generation’s version of the Monkees."

Samuels is startled by Fairchild cocking her shotgun, the sound making him jump forward.

“Sheesh, easy woman. I’m on edge too. This invasion is terrifying... Asians, and aliens and Mexicans--”

“Ole!”

“But luckily, I’m standing here as the last line of defense. Sure, I may not have been too thrilled to be put into this match, but who doesn’t get overcome with nerves every once in a while? But I’m here, standing strong against the alien invasion. And after I save my title from the clutches of these evil invaders, I’ll move on to bigger and better things. Namely, becoming the King of XWF. A title deserving of a true champion, one who faces every challenge with grit and determination.”

“Didn’t you convince

to let you slide on defending the title until your match?"

“Well yes, but I had good reason. You can’t have your main draw being attacked every time he turns the corner! What if I were injured? This company would be crippled. And then some undeserving whelp would be crowned King of XWF in my absence. And that just wouldn’t be fair to my constituents, now would it?”

Before Fairchild can respond the doorbell rings. Startled, the pair jump from their seats and approach a beam of light peaking through one of the boarded up windows. The camera pans to the outside to an old red car, with a sign that reads ‘Chen’s Take-Out.’ The camera moves back to the terrified face of Fairchild, and Samuels behind her trying to quickly load his his shotgun when a voice is heard from upstairs.

“Your eggrolls sir.”

“My god. They’ve found us. RUN!”

The camera falls and records the sounds of screams and footsteps, followed by heavy panting and a loud sobbing.

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