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Excerpts from the personal journal of intergalactic traveler and cultural icon Dick Bill, chronicling his supposed 1995 alien abduction.
DAY FOUR
It's 4 a.m. in Vegas and my handler Joey just got us a comped room at the Horseshoe after arguing with a roulette pit boss that the simplistic nature of Earth's numbering system does not allow him to bet his lucky number, x-2y/z*3x-y. Joey's whole crew is very impressed with Las Vegas; a couple have even mentioned that their reverence for this one city might be enough to convince them to scratch Earth off of their "Destroy As Soon As Possible" list. Humanity can thank me later for that one. Right now I've got some drinking and gambling to do. "Six is a six!"
DAY FIVE
I can't leave these aliens alone for five minutes without them doing something stupid. This morning, while I walked across the street to Main Street Station to get a Black Chip Ale, Joey apparently convinced those five other green knuckleheads to pawn their ray guns, convinced that he'd finally figured out a way to win at blackjack. Joey had mentioned pawning the crew's advanced weaponry yesterday after we discovered that the astrobuck-to-dollar exchange rate was at an all-time high. I had explained to him that they were likely to receive far less money selling their ion blasters at a pawn shop than if they just robbed the place, but Joey doesn't listen so well sometimes. Probably because he has no ears.
DAY SIX
After going three straight days without sleep, the aliens are starting to act a little weird. In fact, for the first time in my life, I'm not the one in the group that's getting us thrown out of places, which is very embarrassing. Last night we got bounced from the Cheetah club after Joey told a stripper that he wanted to abduct and probe her. I tell ya, for a highly evolved being with three brains and a four-digit IQ, Joey sure can be an idiot after a couple dozen drinks. I'm thinking it might be about time to part ways with these lightweight space-clowns and get some real partying done.
DAY SEVEN
This morning we beamed ourselves back onto the spaceship without paying the hotel bill. (Joey signed for the room, so they'll probably just bill it to his Neptune Express card anyway.) We all scarfed down some alien headache pills and the next thing I knew I was back in the field where they had first abducted me. I wonder if anyone noticed I was missing? I wonder if anyone will believe me? But mostly I just wonder if this keg has any beer left in it.
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Eye on Dick
The Recoil Handbook
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