Alien Invasion of Cheltenham

The martians decided it was time to make their move...

  They had been plotting and planning and prattling for long enough, and their leader, The High Lord of Mars, decided to make peace with his rivals and unite the tribes.  

  United as one the Martians finally had the numbers to take on Earth...

  'But where do we struck first, My Lord?' one of the Martians asked of their master.

  'We will hit the Earthlings where it hurts the most,' the High Lord replied.  'We will attack the town of Cheltenham!'

  It sounded like a fair plan.

  So the Martians set out with all their power and struck Earth right at its heart.

  Their attack was met with NO resistance.

  This initially confused the alien menace and they were forced to hold a council.

  'Why do the Earthlings not attack?  Maybe it is a trap?'

  Yes indeed!

  What if it was a trap...?

  'Instead of a direct assault we will strike with stealth,' said the High Lord.  'We will go down on Earth disguised a chickens.  No one will suspect a thing.  Then we will research our enemy and try to work out their sinister plan...  If they do indeed have a trap set we will expose it and destroy it!'

  So the Martians landed on Earth disguised as chickens.

  They soon discovered that it was Cheltenham race week, and all the humans in town were making bets on horses and losing as much money as possible!

  'Looks interesting,' said the High Lord.  'We should place a few bets as well.  It will help us to mingle in, and make us look less suspicious.'

  So the Martians transformed their currency, which was marbles, into cash, and started making bets on which horses they thought might win.

  They made as many bets as possible in order to look normal and natural and not confuse their enemy...

  But by the end of the day the Martians had lost their marbles, and had nothing left to play with!

  DISASTER!

  The High Lord sighed with sadness and weariness.  'We have lost all of our money betting on those damn horses!  Now we don't have any resources left to fund the invasion of Earth.  We can't even afford to get back on board our ship!  Damn!  What are we going to do?'

  'We are going to have to get ourselves jobs just like the Earthlings,' said a fellow Martian.  'It's the only way.  And if we can earn a bit of cash maybe we can gamble again and win our fortune back!'

  'Yes indeed.  A fine plan!' said the High Lord.  'And once we have gambled back our fortune we can rekindle the invasion of Earth!  Marvellous!  Let's get to it men!'

  So the Martians eventually found themselves gainful employment in the local McDonald's down the road.  They had to interview first, which was awkward, but the fast food restaurant was so understaffed they didn't care if they had people dressed like giant chickens working behind the counter so long as they worked.

  And so that is how it was.

  And the Martians worked, and they worked, and they saved their hard earned cash.

  Then the time came!

  And they returned to the betting office, and they gambled, and they gambled...

  And they lost everything!
  'Damn!' cursed the Martian High Lord.  'We are going to have to work a bit more in that McDonald's place, lads.  But don't worry!  I am sure we can do this!  And once we have earned back the funds, we will take over the Earth!  Remember the cause men!'

  And they chanted:

  For Mars!  For glory!  We will win the war!

  After that they plodded back to McDonald's and spent the rest of their days as a bunch of miserable wage slaves and gambling degenerates.

  They slowly became very glum.

  They had never felt that way before back on Mars...

  Experiencing depression for the first time the Martians eventually turned to alcohol and were often sighted by the locals of Wetherspoons...

  They had become the very enemy they sought to destroy... 

THE END

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