aliens

Humour me more of my letters from Mammaroon

MattLeave a comment

Dear, Friends

Another letter in such quick succession! I know! But there is much more to report on, dear friends!

I must be going crazy! There is no other explanation!

I awoke today to find that the mannequins were no longer standing hand in hand. I initially thought they were nowhere to be seen in my sleepy haze! Till I opened my bleary eyes further, looked around me, and realised that they were now lying down, each mostly submerged in the sand but for their knees jutting out. One had its legs spread open, the one I had drunk from the other day; the hole was visible as if trying to entice me. The other one, whom I had never seen the front of, as I never dared go near where they stood, as there was an ominous energy about them, had a phallic-like column jutting out of the sand. Yes, You read that right!

At first, I didn’t have the energy or wherewithal to think anything more about it. Frankly, my skin was itchy and sore, my lips sore and dry, and my stomach aching so I rolled over and started to doze again.

When I came to again, I looked back at the Mannequins, who were still lying in the same position. It was then I noticed some sand had since blown off their torsos, and I could see little beads of sweat on their chests. I crawled and slid across the sand, parched as I was. The journey towards them felt like it had taken forever, and it had taken me a while.
I curled up next the mannequins and went back into a hazy sleep.

When I awoke, I painfully crawled closer and started licking at the little beads of mannequin ‘sweat’ with a great thirst.
‘Oh, thank you!’ I found myself saying, ‘I need this!’ I said, every bead tasting like heaven to my tongue. I followed the mannequin’s body with my tongue till I reached under its knees, and then I was between the legs and licking up any moisture I could.
It hadn’t occurred to me, Dear friend, in my thirsty haste what this looked like! I was just so glad of any water! No matter how little the baubles!
But as I reached closer to the hole, a thought startled me!
‘No!’ I shouted or instead tried to shout from my wretched throat, ‘No, I will not!’ I felt my nails dig into the sore skin of my hands as I made fists. ‘Fuck you!’
See, it had occurred to me that this was what they wanted; this was what they were counting on! They were breeding from me! They were trying to get my sperm! I know how crazy that sounds, but is that so crazy after all I’ve told you? Alice and my daughter flashed into my mind, and it all made sense. They’re using me to breed!
Then, another horrifying thought entered my head, does this mean, dear friends, you no longer exist? Are we near extinction? Were trying to conserve us, using me? Am I the last man alive?

No. No. No.

No, I will not have it! If that is so, I shall die here. I shall die out, and I shall not be giving them anything of mine!

Yours faithfully,

Holden Mcgroin.

Author’s note: I think these letters have essentially become my creative outlet for writing practice. They’re hit and miss, but I’m sharing them anyway.

Another letter from Mammaroon

Matt1 Comment

Dear friends

It’s funny what you remember when you miss something. See, it occurred to me recently that there was a great forgetting down on earth. We’d pour our filth out into the world, and then when we glimpsed the ripple effect in our environment, like stones in water, we’d remember for a second, a moment, maybe a little longer if we could hold onto the abstract long enough.
We’d sit, mourn, sigh, and shake our heads, ‘What about the whales?!’ We’d ask, ‘What about the curlew?’
Then, in the next breath, we’d turn and pour more filth, always re-forgetting.

I only remembered our great forgetting because I’m here in this fish tank on another planet. How far removed I have had to be to realise is…nothing but shameful to be honest with you, dear friends.

I miss the way Herons flew like a rope with wings and how the squirrels pissed me off by chewing my bird feeders.
The early morning dawn chorus would irritate me after a sleepless night.

In other news, though, I married Spoon, not because of love but boredom.

Sitting here in this glass tank, I know what a goldfish felt like; if his memory is bad, surely it’s from the tediousness that rots one’s brain from such an oppressive home rather than from biology. I remember having a goldfish that knew when it would get food, and I am much the same when the mammarrians throw in some food.

Occasionally, when the boobacious little spidery mammarrians come and stare at me through the glass, with even smaller ones standing beside them I take off my t-shirt, and I take a run-up to the glass and the little ones skitter and hide behind the slightly bigger ones. It passes the time and amuses me no end!

Yours faithfully
Holden Mcgroin.

Another damn letter from from Mammaroon

Matt1 Comment

Dear Friends,

I am writing to you against my better judgment!

The family life didn’t last long.

It lasted as long as a dream, though I am almost sure it was real!

‘What shall we name her?’ Alice had asked me.
I was lying in the bed behind a haze of smoke from a cigarette that hung between my fingers. I wasn’t sure how it got there, I didn’t remember lighting it, and I didn’t remember drawing smoke from it either.
‘Spoon.’ I replied lazily.
Alice sprung from the bed like a cat, ‘Get Spoon out of your mouth!’
I looked at her through the smoke, ‘What’d you mean?’
‘I swear you love him more than me!’ She paced up and down beside the bed, ‘Maybe I should get them to bring him here, so he can keep you happy.’ She leant on the bed, reached out and lifted my chin with two fingers to make me look her in the eyes. ‘We are not calling our daughter after your lover!’
‘Yea, you’re right,’ I had said, ‘Especially if we did decide to use my surname.’
Alice bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes glazed over, ‘Is this a joke to you?’
‘I don’t know,’ I gestured round the room with my hand, ‘What the fuck any of this is!’

In some respects, being in a house that looked like one I could have back home on Earth was a comfort. But Alice being there and our…Daughter… I still can’t fathom that one…It made it all disconcerting.

I kept having nightmares where I’d walk through the curtains and take the baby out of the cot and peel the skin off her face; underneath were just wires and red lights.
But then, despite all signs of her being an android, blood would start to spill, and my hands would be covered in her blood.
Alice would walk in, and at the sight of me holding our daughter, bleeding in my arms, she’d let out a shriek so piercing that it could break glass.
‘What have you done?’ She’d scream at me, ‘What the hell have you done!’
And I would stand there and cry, looking down at my dead baby human/android in my hands.

It seems the Mammarians wanted Alice and I to play happy families, smaller Mammarians, like the little boobacious spiders, would come along holding a big device between their two front legs. Then, after a white flash, they’d be gone again. I can only presume that they were taking photographs.
But apparently, I needed to play families better for them.
Yet I was up at night doing the feeding occasionally, allowing Alice to rest. I burped her and changed her nappy. All the usual things a dad does. I pulled funny faces at her, and she laughed, and I laughed back.
Occasionally Alice and I tried to fornicate, but it was very hit-and-miss whether I could perform.
I must confess to you the times I did perform, I was picturing Spoon or some other man I once knew on Earth.

How much I miss the flesh of another human. I miss the birds and the bees, the squirrels chattering in the trees.
I miss the trees too! The velvety moss you could run your hands through, like running your hand through a man’s hairy chest.
I know we burdened the world; a lot had been lost before I was even born. But what was left counted to something, and I can only dream that maybe humans were letting things grow back since my abduction.

After what felt like eons I was picked up in another bubble cart and taken back to the fish tank.

I am still determining what else to add as of right now. I am still processing everything, so I guess that will be all for today.

Yours faithfully,
Holden Mcgroin.

A letter from Mammaroon: Daughter

Matt1 Comment

Dear Friends,

How are things on earth?

The other day the Mammamarians put me into a bubble-shaped cart that hung from a steel wire.
And with great speed it travelled along the rope till it came to a halt that felt to me just in the nick of time, as just inches away from where it stopped was a perilously tall building that looked to be made of graphite.
And once I overcame my shock from being in new surroundings and the movement and near crash of my cart, I saw a vast network of tall buildings like the one I had stopped by before me.
There were no windows or doors on these buildings, none that a man’s eye could see anyhow.
But at once, a hole opened up in front of me, and my bubble cart moved slowly through the hole.
The hole instantly closed behind me, and I was inside the graphite tower!
And many small Mammamarians ran up and down little ladders and over many, many landings like boobacious spiders!
My ball cart moved with a slow precision as another hole opened up. I was back outside, on the other side of the building.
And the speed returned with force forcing my face up against the glass; my nose squashed against it.
The cart came to a sudden halt just as it did the first time, and after a moment or two of waiting, a hole opened up, and the cart slowly entered.
And once I entered the building, the cart started free-falling!
And down I went, my heart beating violently against my chest and my eyes no doubt bulging from my head in terror!
My hands against the glass, I screamed, my fingers trailing through the fog of my breath on the window.
And then there was a wailing sound like a crying baby.
The more I screamed, the louder the crying became, as if competing with me.
The ball cart luckily came to a halt when a giant metal hand grabbed hold and connected us back up to another steel wire.
A hole opened up in the wall before me, and the bubble cart entered a room that looked like any other room you might see in a house back home!
That was when I saw the source of the wailing: a baby in a cot, arms above their head and legs up in the air.
Next to the cot was a space currently behind drawn curtains.
Would you like to hazard a guess as to who was behind the curtains?
Well, if it wasn’t Alice!
‘My god!’ I recall myself saying, ‘Alice! Where have you been…’ But as the words escaped my mouth, it dawned on me, ‘The baby is yours?’ hoping my shock didn’t afflict my face.
Alice smiled that wistful smile, the same smile I saw her lips bear last time, ‘It is our baby,’ She said, holding out her hand. ‘Come on,’ She said.
I grabbed her hand, and she spun me back to face the baby in the cot.
‘I thought you were…’ I looked down at the baby’s feet which were up in the air, ‘I thought you were an android.’ I gulped.
‘I am.’ Alice replied.
‘But,’ I pointed at the baby, ‘How?’
‘I have an artificial womb.’

Can you believe that? An artificial womb in an android?
I never expected to have a child, what with mainly fucking men and rarely being able to orgasm if I slept with a woman.
Not to mention that back on earth, back on that sweet blue, green home, I was told by a doctor that my swimmers weren’t very…well up for swimming, quite frankly!

I looked at Alice, stunned! ‘How…But I..’
‘We had to help your little guys out a bit.’ She smiled.
‘Yea?’ I said, picturing sperm with armbands on like a cartoon.
‘Don’t worry about it. The fact is, now you have a little daughter!’
Well, what indeed was I supposed to say to that?
‘I know you’re in shock.’
‘Shock? That’s….That’s an understatement. I’m horrified.’
‘You don’t like your daughter?’ Alice asked, a look of disdain on her android face.
I looked down at the baby in the cot, but my brain could not compute that this little ball of flesh and bone was my child, my daughter.
‘I don’t know that I believe any of this is real,’ I replied finally.
‘Pick her up, hold her.’ Alice said in an enchanting voice.
I swallowed my scepticism, which went down my throat like a frog.
I picked up the little bundle of flesh and bone, and the baby spread her fingers out on her little hands, looked up at me and with salty tears making tracks down her face from the crying, she smiled up at me.
I put her hand in mine, and it felt real.
But so did Alice. So did Spoon.
‘What are we going to call her?’ Alice asked.
‘We?’ I looked at her, the babies hand still in mine.
‘Yes, we.’ Alice tilted her head and looked at me like I was an alien. Under the circumstances, I couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.
‘Well, she should take your surname.’
Alice smiled, ‘And her first name?’
‘I don’t know!’ I baulked and put the baby back in the cot.
‘Aww look, she’s going to sleep now she’s seen her daddy!’ Then Alice crept as quietly as possible towards me and put a hand on the small of my back, ‘Shall we go to bed now and try to get some sleep?’ She said, with a yawn, pushing on my pack to usher me behind the curtains.

So that’s all the latest news for you! I’m out of the fish tank, and now it seems like playing ‘happy families’ with Alice somewhere on this boobacious planet!

Yours faithfully,
Holden Mcgroin.

Another letter from Mammaroon

Matt1 Comment

Dear friends,

I’m writing again to tell you more about my life on Mammaroon since being abducted.

We have artificial days and nights, and all concept of time has become meaningless.
They turn on a sun lamp and turn it off when they please.
It has a routine, much like the days and nights on earth. But some days and some nights feel so long and tedious that I can’t be sure it’s not just random!

Loneliness hit me sooner than I thought it might, given my propensity to be alone.
But alas, I felt driven mad by loneliness; perhaps it was the lack of certainty of time.
Anyhow, the reasons as to why don’t much matter in the scheme of things.

When on earth amongst other humans, it’s easy to forget you are human. But on an alien planet with aliens watching you like in a zoo, your own humanity dawns on you and beckons you back to earth.
If only such psychological beckonings could be a form of transport!

In a state of loneliness, one artificial night, I crept into the bed of Spoon and began to spoon him.
He didn’t flinch at my touch; he didn’t seem to mind.
I could be confident of this impression when he started grinding up against my crotch.
But it was through these bodily explorations I came upon a stark truth!
Spoon was no man, no fellow human!
Spoon is, of course, an android!
‘It feels like this is something you should have told me,’ I said to him.
‘It is not protocol for me to tell you. Indeed it is not protocol for any of us to tell you.’
‘Any of you?’
‘Yes,’ He rolled over in the bed to face me, ‘All of us here in this tank,’ he nodded his head at me, eager for me to complete that conclusion.
‘There are no other humans in this fish tank with me!’ I said.
‘Correct,’ Spoon smiled at me.

Of course, it all makes more sense now! I wondered how Spoon could translate the alien’s communication technique, which to my ears, is entirely silent!

Despite my low mood spurned by loneliness, the Mammamarians still treat me well.
I am fed, and they allow me to shower once a week which is more often than I did at home! Although showering while they watch me can be pretty disturbing!

The Mammamarians also appear to be turning a blind eye to the filthy things I do with Spoon in the artificial nights!

And so, all in all, I can’t complain too much!

I hope this letter reaches you well!

Yours faithfully,

Holden Mcgroin.

Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow

Matt1 Comment

Dear Friends,

I am writing to inform you that the Mammamarians have abducted me.
Their name, ‘Mammamarians’ originates from the name of their planet, Mammaroon.
And the planet is called Mammaroon because it is shaped like a pair of boobs.
It’s called Mammaroon because calling it Mammarygland (pronounced Mamaryg land) is too on the nose. (This I was told by another abductee named Spoon. I don’t know why his name is Spoon; he isn’t shaped like a spoon).

To keep you abreast of my situation, I am being looked after by the mammamarians, (Did I mention that they are shaped like boobs too)? However, I have yet to be anally probed. (much to my disappointment).
The Mammamarians communicate via antennae from nipple-like nubs on their heads. In addition, they have cilia (like little bits of hair) around what I will call their areolae, which are very sensitive to their environment.
Picture if you will, a woman lying down, her breasts pert and nipples erect and pointing to the sky. This is essentially the shape of the Mammamarians but with six legs sticking out, three on each side.
They have me contained within a fish tank-type arena whereby many mammamarians stand and watch me.
Spoon says he was one of the first to be abducted, and never once have they mistreated him, so if I can take Spoon at his word, it seems like my life here may be relatively simple and without much concern. In fact, it so far has been easier than my life on earth!

We are fed, and each abductee is provided with his or her own bosom pillow!
It seems the mammamarians took that song that sang ‘everybody needs a bosom for a pillow’ very literally.
They have asked me (their weird form of communication translated to me by none other than Spoon) what a brimful of asha is. I was unable to answer their query.
They slammed on the glass of our tank angrily at my lack of knowledge which alarmed me, but then they scattered away.
It’s not like I can fault them; we all get irritated from time to time.
The following day they came back and were pleasant as breasts again, with no residual tension felt or seen.

And so I write to you in high spirits, and long may that continue!
I hope this reaches you in high spirits too!

Yours faithfully,

Holden Mcgroin

Lyrics: Our alienation

MattLeave a comment

They should have left me to die
before I
became an abstraction

I am alien. (to be repeated twice)

Alienation
walls
made out of talk
our alienation
we’re abstraction
driven to distraction
our alienation

We are alien
I am alien

or are we
Origami people
folded
and put onto earth
as if we never were
a part of her.

Alienation
walls
made out of talk
we’re abstractions
driven to distraction
our alienation

I am alien
We are alien.

(back to 1st verse)

We are alien

Our alienation.

Alien take over

Matt1 Comment

Hello, fellow followers, I’m… Currently in deep sh….

Shit… They’re here…

Fuck….

Ahhhhhhhhhhh

Hel….

Fuzzy

Greetings Earthlings!
This is an announcement from planet Mammaroon.

Language is the matrix to which you are all plugged in.

It is not just in the media you choose to feast upon, it is in the very language you speak.
Every utterance of every word is power and words work via nature to nurture.

It is not so much as ‘language is unnatural’ but that the nature of language can change you.

You can come up with all the theories you like about reality itself.

But never, EVER assume you have escaped the matrix.

For language is the creator of the matrix you are in.

Do you believe you have the utter truth? Do you believe you’ve ‘unplugged’ from the matrix and you see the world for what it is?

How can that be so, unless you are silent?

How can that be so, unless you are silent of thought? 

To unplug from the matrix you need to remove language so that there is nothing to frame reality in.

Once you put a frame on it, it’s only a reflection of your mind and thus becomes art and nothing more and nothing less.

Mammaroon ministries preaching the truth.

Mammaroon ministries preaching truth since BE (before earth) and AE (After earth) into the beyond. ©