Marreese Speights was relaxing in his living room with teammate Wes Johnson. They had finished two extra-large pepperoni pizzas and now Wes was looking bored. “Let’s see what’s on TV,” he said, grabbing the remote from Marreese’s coffee table. “I don’t really feel like moving around or getting up after all that pizza.”
“I hear you, man,” Marreese replied as his eyes idly flicked to the screen of the newly turned-on television. “The extra cheese may not have been necessary but it was soooo good.” He was about to say more about the gastrointestinal distress that the pizza was causing him, but when he saw what the picture on the TV, his words were silenced.
On the screen were images and sounds that were very familiar to Marreese, for they were almost identical to the ones that appeared in his visions. The visions that were broadcast to him via the cyst on his head by bloodthirsty aliens from another galaxy. He tried to look away from the graphic depiction of helpless humans getting gorily blasted apart by the hyper-advanced weaponry of the alien invaders, but found he couldn’t.
“Whoa, this looks cool! What movie is this?” Wes asked, staring wide-eyed with glee at the same image that Marreese was terrorstruck by.
Marreese’s hope that the televised image was merely an advertisement for an upcoming film release was dashed when his cyst suddenly began to emit a sharp, blinding pain. “Unnhh,” he grunted, clutching the bump on his head with both hands. “Not again…”
“Not again what?” Wes asked, looking away from the entertaining scenes of terrestrial destruction to give a concerned glance at his suffering teammate. “You got a headache?”
“It’s my cyst!” Marreese wailed, his head feeling like it would explode from the pain. “It receives transmissions from aliens, showing me how they plan to conquer Earth and enslave its inhabitants! Somehow their evil transmissions are bypassing my mind and getting displayed on the TV instead!”
Wes sat silent for a few seconds, stunned by this outrageous revelation. “Dude, you been watching too many sci-fi movies,” he finally responded. “This is just a TV show or something. It’s not a broadcast from aliens.”
As if in defiance of Wes’ dismissal of their techniques, a voice began to emanate from the TV’s speakers. “We’re coming soon, Marreese. It’s up to you to stop us, but nobody will believe you, Marreese, nobody will ever beliEEEEEEVE YOOOOOOOOOU!” The shrieking alien voice grew louder and more high-pitched until it was nearly unbearable. “The demise of the entire human race, imminent and unavoidable! Hahahahaha!”
Marreese had scrunched his eyes shut from the pain and could only moan lowly in response. Wes continued to stare, not in glee now but with horror, at the TV screen, where he saw entire metropolises ablaze in caustic green flame, and unidentifiable beings literally ripping the limbs off of still-living humans as they begged for mercy.
Suddenly, the TV exploded in a shower of sparks and glass, but the voice inexplicably continued, “Soon, Marreese! Soon! Earth will be a charred husk, and the pathetic human race will toil for eternity under the command of our superior intelligence and technology!” Then, silence.
The pain in Marreese’s head began to subside, leaving behind a dull throb and a ringing in his ears. He looked down to find that he had lost control of his bladder, then looked at his teammate, whose face was a ghostly pallor. “I never asked for this,” Marreese whimpered, before bursting into tears, each one shed for a doomed mankind.