You heard me right. It’s the only logical explanation. You know, it’s been quite warm this week, and I’ve been sleeping with the bedroom window open, so I can only surmise that they flew right in and did some kind of Vulcan mind-suck thingy and took all my story ideas. Stupid aliens!
Well, I guess they aren’t stupid anymore, are they? They stole all my great wisdom! And now I just know some Queen of Betelguese Minor is passing off my ideas as her own, and I’m going to have to see them in a Star Trek re-run or something! (That’s how the space-time continuum works. Ask anybody.)
Isn’t there some sort of Interstellar Intelligence Agency I can complain to? Surely they would frown upon such dastardly activities. They might not want Earth story ideas getting all mixed up with Betelguese Minor story ideas, which, if you think about it, could be potentially disastrous! Oh, the chaos that would cause! The copyright issues alone are mind boggling! I don’t even want to contemplate it. Although it would serve them right for stealing my ideas in the first place.
Hey! I could sue! I could, and I could end up owning Betelguese Minor. Although, I have to admit, just owning my house is a lot more responsibility than I had anticipated. Imagine what an enormous responsibility that comes with owning a planet! All kinds of life forms, constantly complaining: “The sky leaks!” “The ground is spongy in places! It needs to be replaced!” “When was the last time you had the sun serviced? It’s always cold over here!”
Not to mention having a sullen queen skulking about without an original idea in her head because the Interstellar Intelligence Agency put the cosmic smackdown on her and told her she can’t steal anymore ideas, and now she’s all cheesed off because I booted her off her throne.
No, on second thought, I’ll just let it go. Chances are they can’t possibly know what to do with all those ideas anyway.