The words are eggplant, jellyfish, space
I’d always wanted to go into space, ever since I was a kid. And now, here I was. We’d been invited, via late 21st century Space technology – that I won’t explain here because you probably wouldn’t understand it – to travel to a planet called Ooky Booky. On earth we called it AlphaBetaGamma47658. By the same token, they called out planet Whatabunchofdumbassmorons, instead of Earth.
When we landed, we were greeted by the president of their free world. His name was Ronald McDonald Dump, and he looked like a giant Eggplant. Purple face, purple hair. With him was his wife, Melancholy.
“Welcome to our, um, er, planet”‘ he said.
“Thanks, but are we really welcome here”?
“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens”, he said.
As we conversed – me coherently, him all wish-washy – I noticed a group of what looked like Jellyfish being packed into a big vehicle.
“Who are they”?, I asked.
“They’re the jellyfish people. We’re sending them back to Jellico”.
“Why”, I asked.
“Because they’re not purple and they talk funny. Next week we’ll be burning all of the books, because smart people write them and I don’t understand what they’re saying”.