The Tale of Olaphet

An alien visited Earth. His name was Olaphet and he came from an advanced civilisation known as Megonia, a peaceful planet that had mastered interstellar travel enabling them to journey many light years across the stars.

Olaphet landed, of all places, in Britain. Strolling through the grey, rain-drenched streets of Bridgewater, he came across a curiously large sign shaped like two golden arches, ‘McDonald’s’ he mused to himself before reading the slogan underneath, ‘i’m lovin’ it.’

Olaphet had of course studied Earth’s many languages, but was nevertheless intrigued by what ‘It’ could be. He had read numerous novels and poems with various takes on themes of ‘love’. Indeed, Olaphet identified a distinct likeness with ‘Klar’ from his own world – the uniquely deep feelings felt towards that of a significant other, family, friends, the beauty of nature or a cherished pet.

Olaphet felt sure he knew what love is to humans, but was curious to learn more about ‘It.’

He proceeded into McDonald’s and was met by a young man who at first appeared wholly unaware of Olaphet’s presence – head down, gazing intently while scrolling through mysterious content emanating from the blue light of a strange rectangular object.

The trance-like awe that appeared to overcome the stupefied face of this individual left Olaphet wondering if he was holding ‘It’ in his very hand. Ever curious, he leaned across the counter to get a look at what held the young man’s attention, only for the distracted fellow to look up with a start.

‘Whaddya want, mate?’

‘Oh, well, I was just wondering if you could please tell me what “It” is?’ Asked Olaphet, most politely I might add.

‘Say again, mate’, replied the young lad, somewhat irritated.

‘Well, the sign above reads “i’m lovin’ it” and I’m just curious to know what “It” is.’

‘Are you ‘avin a larf, mate?’

‘Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.’ Replied Olaphet, now a little confused.

‘I mean are you taking the piss?’ Getting evermore exasperated, completely unaware that he was only faced with the innocent curiosity of an alien visiting Earth from thousands of light years away from a planet far advanced than ours. Indeed, little could the greasy spotted dunce have known that he might actually be the first human ever to converse with an alien in the flesh!

From studying Earth’s many languages, Olaphet was mindful of myriad slang words, less so with phrases unfortunately, and therefore took ‘piss’ as a literal reference to urine, which just confused him even more…

Sensing an atmosphere of growing hostility, Olaphet attempted to reassure the young man that he meant no offence, ‘I assure you I have no desire to take anybody’s urine, I’d just like to know what “It” is.’

Olaphet’s responses remained polite and articulate throughout. However, his mistake was in disguising himself as a blue-haired hipster – something which would have enabled him to blend in around the many pretentious, upper middle-class areas of Bristol, Brighton and London but, unfortunately, in Bridgewater they caused one to stick out like a sore thumb – almost as if from another planet!

On Earth, such types tend to be insufferably snotty and are therefore not likely to be found in McDonald’s, which was another mistake; Olaphet would have probably been better advised to disguise himself as a builder as he could’ve easily passed such a thing off as ‘banter’ if he sensed the conversation going south.

However, his choice of disguise immediately caused the counter assistant to associate him with a small band of posh kids from the local art college; he figured it was some kind of ‘performance art’ project similar to the recent incident involving Arabella Porphington-Smyth and Indigo Clearwater-Dungarees entering the local Burger King and demanding to speak to his Royal Highness so they can ‘educate him’ on the systemic racism and transphobia perpetuated from the practice of eating meat. There was even a write up in the Guardian about how these daughters of city bankers represent the new Avant-garde smashing the patriarchy, irrespective of the fact they seem to spend their lives posting running commentaries of their ‘protest art’ on highly centralised, corporate tech platforms owned by a handful of rich white men in California who are mates with their rich white dads. Though the irony was lost on the witless duo, as much as the equally vacuous Guardian, it was not lost on the likes of Wayne Mitchell who worked the counter at McDonald’s.

‘Fuck off mate, you’re borin’. Wayne was no fan of performance art!

With that he pressed a small button underneath the till, shortly after which Olaphet found himself surrounded by two burly men in black bomber jackets who duly escorted him out.

Sitting on the curb and looking back up at the golden arches, then inside towards the counter assistant, who had since returned his gaze to the mysterious rectangular object emanating a blue light (no doubt to post his recent exchange with posh art school twats on Facebook), which may or may not contain the secrets of ‘It’, Olaphet now felt more confused than ever. He had an urgent desire to know what ‘It’ is so he can report back on this curious phenomenon to his superiors on Megonia. Perhaps ‘It’ would enable them to become an even more advanced and harmonious civilisation? Either way, Olaphet was determined to find out.

He walked further along the high street immediately noting that everyone else, much like the young man in McDonald’s, were similarly transfixed by magical rectangular objects emanating a blue light, which may or may not contain the secrets of ‘It’.

Olaphet stopped outside a shop called Sports Direct noting once again the mysterious ‘It’ on a sign. This time ‘It’ wasn’t accompanied by two golden arches but rather a giant tick, which underneath read ‘Just Do It.’ Intrigued, for ‘It’ was no longer the object of ‘loving’ but ‘doing.’ ‘What on earth could that all mean?’ He wondered.

He proceeded into the store and this time was met by a moody looking teenage girl, chewing gum and, likewise, mindlessly scrolling her way through a mysterious rectangular object emanating a blue light, which may or may not contain the secrets of ‘It.’

Olaphet stood in front of the counter, the girl looked at him scornfully, ‘ello’ she abruptly said, in a tone indicative of being inconvenienced from the important task of scrolling through the latest Botox fad on TikTok.

‘Oh, hello,’ he replied in his polite and genteel manner, ‘I was just wondering if you could please tell me what “It” is.’

‘You what,’ replied the girl with a frown.

‘Not what, “It”, I see reference to this curious phenomenon everywhere but nobody can seem to describe “It” to me’, said Olaphet.

‘It ain’t nuffin mate,’ replied the girl sarcastically (assuming him to be another one of the local oddballs that hang around the circle of benches getting high on spice while drinking cheap cider).

‘Then how can I possibly “Do It”? How can one “love it”?’ He replied, now even more confused.

‘Do what?’

‘Not do what, “Do It,”’ he replied again as the girl interjected…

‘I fink you’re a bit mental, mate.’

With that she pressed a small button underneath the till and Olaphet soon found himself surrounded by two burly men in black bomber jackets who duly escorted him out of the shop. He was again looking at the curious sign outside, gazing back into the shop to see the girl had returned to her mysterious rectangular object emanating a blue light, which may or may not contain the secrets of ‘It’, happily cackling into a glowing void (no doubt posting about her recent exchange with a ‘local weirdo’ on TikTok).

It was at this point that Olaphet began to suspect there was nothing much to ‘It’ at all, and that humans may in fact be nothing more than a retarded backwater race, of which he was sent to study as penance for a recent transgression involving a low-ranking lieutenant’s wife.

(An important thing to note here is that, while Megonia was far advanced of Earth, Megonians themselves were far from perfect. There remained an issue, specifically with the males (much like Earth), with regards to the lack of thought surrounding any potential consequences upon getting laid and Olaphet was no exception).

Exhausted, he was about to head back to his ship and prepare for the long journey home when men in suits wearing dark glasses suddenly pounced on him.

What Olaphet had not been aware of was that MI6 had been monitoring his movements this entire time. They had tracked his whereabouts to the small west country town and dispatched agents who snatched him in broad daylight from the high street, which nobody saw because everyone in said street were busily gazing downwards into mysterious rectangular objects emanating blue lights, which may or may not contain the secrets of ‘It.’

He was incarcerated in a maximum-security prison, kept in solitary confinement and subsequently extradited to the United States. Olaphet quickly learned that the UK’s judiciary, political and media class are spineless, obsequious little relics from an out-dated aristocracy, clinging to the myths of its fallen ‘greatness,’ unquestionably doing the bidding – like a pathetic little poodle – of its obnoxious, loudmouth master from across the pond.

Olaphet now found himself imprisoned in a place called ‘Area 51’ surrounded by men wearing long white coats.

He was aware of man’s science and that scientists were thought of as among the more intelligent of humankind, who often wore long white coats. However, his mistake was in confusing science with wisdom, though he nevertheless attempted reasoning with his captors.

‘Look, there’s been a huge misunderstanding,’ said Olaphet as the scientists looked up in shock, ‘The creature speaks English!’ They exclaimed in unison.

Noting he had their undivided attention, Olaphet continued…

‘I come here in peace from an advanced civilisation from across the stars known as Megonia. For centuries, we have lived harmoniously, devoting our time to making great art and music, enjoying the splendours of our natural world, exploring new planets, sharing knowledge, finding love – something to us known as “Klar,” it’s therefore fascinating to see that we share a universal characteristic and it is in this spirit of sharing, love and harmony that we wish to get to know you. If you let me go, I promise to reveal the secrets of living peacefully and in harmony with nature and your many wonderful creatures – I’ll teach you to converse with mighty elephants, hump back whales, dolphins and the infinite species of birds – so that you may likewise devote your time to love, art, poetry, music and the exploration of new worlds; that you too may enjoy the many wonders that we from Megonia enjoy.’

The scientists stood in silent awe, but they didn’t really understand a word he was saying. Unfortunately, for Olaphet, it was quickly discovered that his blood could be synthesised into a deadly bio-weapon which would be used against the Russians and the Chinese, for no reason that made any sense whatsoever, and in the process quadruple the profits of military contractors such as Lockheed Martin and Raytheon, while ensuring a Hollywood deal for the scientists involved, all of who sought little more than the celebrity adulation of Oppenheimer (and the possibility of getting laid by Margot Robbie).

On the command of generals, Olaphet was tortured and killed. His blood was extracted, patented, and forged into a bio-weapon that was deployed ‘defensively’ against Russia and China (cheered on by Earth’s legion of batshit crazy conservatives and likewise endorsed, albeit through more elaborate bromides – though no less ignorant to the horrific reality of war – in the snooty broadsheets by flabby, liberal intellectuals).

Unbeknownst to all, China had been flying balloons over America while the Russians had dispatched Kremlin-trained dolphins along the English Channel and were aware of an imminent attack. Once the Americans had struck, both countries fired back with their entire nuclear arsenal … which destroyed Planet Earth.

The End.

September 2023

© Percival Alexander