"And here we are, trapped on this asteroid, hurtling through the uncaring, unfeeling void of space, devoid of warmth, devoid of home or hearth," Johnny the Poet whispered into the microphone. The crowd of disaffected urbanites that had crammed themselves into the bookstore on their two-hour lunch breaks clapped.
"Thank you," Johnny the Poet said, "although remember that the echoes of your hands are but flutters against the lifeless crush of the galaxy."
"GREETINGS, IT IS MY PLEASURE TO ANNOUNCE THE OPENING OF THE NEWEST ATTRACTION ON THIS SIDE OF THE OORT CLOUD," the loudspeakers roared. The voice was completely unlike any sound before heard on Earth. The voice spoke crisp, completely unaccented English to the ear of each listener. "YES, THAT'S RIGHT, THE UNIVERSALLY-KNOWN EIGHT COMETS OVER EAGLE NEBULA PARK IS COMING TO YOUR SOLAR SYSTEM."
Johnny the Poet stared at the microphone, then looked at the microphone cord.
"The universe is, uh, empty of life and meaning."
"WE HAVE FROLEAN TAFFY. WE HAVE THE FAMOUS LIGHT-SPEED LONGJUMPER MODULE - NOW OVER TWICE AS FAST AS THE SPEED OF LIGHT! AND DON'T FORGET THE LIQUID NITROGEN PARK, WHICH HAS FREE ADMISSION THROUGH June 30th, 2010 earth date format AND CANNOT BE COMBINED WITH OTHER OFFERS!"
Johnny the Poet looked like he was about to cry.
One of the urbanites held up his iPhone. "An astronomer friend of mine just texted me to say that the unidentified object that slammed into Jupiter turned out to be a self-deploying amusement park owned by the Libran Entertainment Corporation Company Incorporated. The radio broadcasts are being heard all over the world."
A week later, Johnny the Poet met with a representative of the Libran Entertainment Corporation Company Incorporated to debate on a famous talk show.
"But you see, my poetry was a metaphor for the emptiness of your dessicated corporate culture," Johnny the Poet said, staring the representative in one of its eyes.
"That is a broken metaphor that my civilization discarded while your planet was still on a boiling mass of crap," the rep said. "The future's in the money, and the money is in entertainment. You're an entertainer, you must understand."
Johnny the Poet puffed himself up. "I am no such thing as a filthy entertainer. I'm an artist!"
The rep used a few tentacles to tap on a translator.
"I see. My language discerns no difference between the words 'artist' and 'entertainer.' Do you write things and say things to get attention?"
"No, I say them to express my inner turmoil!"
The rep tapped a few more things into his translator. "Ah. I think I understand. You are what we call a XRPHLEPH on our planet. It is the repellent grease that is squeezed out from between the bearings of our entertainment vehicles."
"Hey now! I'm important!"
"So is XRPHLEPH, for it is a major disposal problem. It is good to know, however, that the disposal of XRPHLEPH is much easier to resolve on Earth," the rep said. He pulled out a ray gun and blasted Johnny the Poet with it, resulting in a small pile of ash scattered on the floor. The rep turned to the talk show host.
"Let it be known that we are not here to market our entertainment park to you, humans. We are here because your solar system is an exotic backwood, but a safe one because you do not have the technology to kick us out, unlike, for example, the pirate-infested Joliroga solar system."
The talk show host, by the mere fact of still being on the air for more than a single season, wasn't stupid.
"So, are you hiring?"
The Moral: when shopping for a bathing suit to wear to a liquid nitrogen park, remember the T&A factor: Thermal Armor