I had been on the Alien Humanoid Bug People’s planet, Kakrafoon, for 2 weeks. The expected me to feel exhilarated after my battle with “The Great Exterminator” I was considered a galactic hero. I had saved my planet Earth and the entire Universe.
However, they sensed my dark depression, my feeling of hopeless, my bleak despondency, and my craving a proper cupppa tea. “Why the bloody hell do we need to have the organic life-form experience? We’re all going to die anyway. Can’t we skip the part of being forced to be born, living on some planet to experience tragedy, poverty, aggravation, and The IRS?”
I continued my rant, “In the last 2 weeks, you’ve taken me to visit many planets: The planet Santraginus V, where every being on that planet has a chronically bad cold. I was told, “It’s ‘tradition’ and has gone on for millenniums”. I saw miles of used tissue paper all over that planet’s surface.
We visited The Jatrovartids people of the planet ZZ9 Plural Alpha, where every inhabitant cries all day and all night for no apparent reason. One inhabitant said to me, “It’s just what we’re born to do.”
We flew our spacecraft to the planet NowWhat. It is said of the planet NowWhat had been named after the opening words of the first settlers to arrive there after struggling across light years of space to reach the farthest unexplored outreaches of the Galaxy. The main town was called OhWell. There weren’t many other towns to speak of. “So, I asked a female inhabitant, “What makes life on NowWhat worth living?” “Well, there aren’t any.” was her reply. Settlement on NowWhat had not been a success and the sort of people who actually wanted to live on NowWhat were not the sort of people you would want to spend time with.
We spent time on many other planets, I observed all peoples of The Cosmos tend to languish in their own muddles.”
“What’s point of it all? Why is The Universe here? Why the planets, stars, the entire Cosmos? What’s the bloody meaning of Life? I screamed, “There is none”! Bad things happen, and that’s that!” I finally said, “And I don’t want an ‘afterlife’. Once around is enough for this bloke.”
“The Bug People wanted to help me find “the answer.” But even THEY didn’t know why we all exist and IF there was a purpose to LIFE. Space aliens, throughout the Cosmos, have Intergalactic wars; they feel grief, anger, love, happiness, a desire for revenge, etc. There are benevolent space aliens and malevolent space aliens. Good and evil exist everywhere in the Cosmos. What the hell is it all for?
Was there an answer somewhere?
The Alien Bug People told me about an ancient philosopher, Prak, who lived thousands of years ago in the Land of Sevorbeaupstry, His is followers heard his dying words, “You will find God’s final message to his creation on side of The Quentulus Quazoar Mountains on the planet, Preliumtarn: 30 foot high letters of fire, God’s Final Message to His Creation.”
So, a few Bug People and I hopped into a spacecraft and landed on the Planet Preliumtarn. We landed on the planet, which has a star named Zarss, around which orbits the planet Preliumtarn in which is the land of Sevorbeupstry.
And in the land of Sevorbeupstry, we came to the Great Red Plain of Rars, which was bounded on the south side by the Quentulus Quazgar Mountains, on the farther side of which, according to the dying words of Prak, we would find in 30-foot-high letters of fire God’s Final Message to His Creation.
The place was guarded by the Lajectic Vantrashell of Lob, and so, after a manner, it proved to be. He was a little man in a strange hat and he sold us a ticket.
“Keep to the left, please,” he said, “keep to the left,” and hurried past us on a little scooter.
We realized we were not the first to pass that way, for the path that led around the Great Red Plain was well worn and dotted with booths. Some booths sold postcards, some sold sodas, one booth sold cuff links (I purchased a pair), and other booths rented scooters: but the scooters were not for the devout. We got closer to our destination and one booth sold a little books of devotional, little meditations on the meaning of the Message. We bought one of the little books.
“Do you know what the message is?” I asked the wizened little lady in the booth.
“Oh yes,” she piped cheerily, “oh yes!” She waved us on.
“Ready?” said one my Humanoid Bug friends. We began our journey. After 20 miles of walking, we came upon a larger booth. “Is it possible,” I asked, “to rent one of those little scooters? Like the one Lajestic Lob had?”
“The scooters,” said the little lady who was serving the ice cream bar, “are not for the devout.” “Oh well, that’s easy then,” I said, “we’re not particularly devout. We’re just interested.”
“Then you must turn back now,” said the little lady severely. We decided to trudge on. We continued onward along the ground: stumbling painfully slowly, half limping, half crawling.
We rounded the foot of the Quentulus Quazgar Mountains, and there was the Message written in blazing letters along the crest of the mountain.
There was a little vantage point with a rail built along the top of a large rock facing it, from which you could get a good view. It had a little pay telescope for looking at the letters in detail, but no one would ever use it because the letters burned with the divine brilliance of the heavens and would, if seen though a telescope, have severely damaged the retina and optic nerve.
Fortunately, I carry my Ray Ban Sunglasses with me wherever I go. I put them on. I found a coin and put it in the telescope.
I gazed at God’s Final Message to His Creation in wonderment. I let my Alien Bug friends take turns using my Ray Ban shades to get a better look.
I took back my Ray Bans and looked at each individual letter and, speaking to my space friends, said each letter, in turn, aloud.
The first letter was an “I.” Then there was a gap. An “a” followed, then a “p,” an “o,” and an “l.”
After a few moments I resumed. I saw the “o,” the “g”, the “I,” the “z,” and the “e.”
The next two words were “for” and “the.” The last one was a long one. It started with “i,” then “n,” and an “c.” Next came an “o” and an “n,”
followed by a “v,” and “e,” another “n,” and an “i.” I paused and read the remaining letters. I read the “e,” the “n,” the “c,” and the final “e.” Pieced together, it said:
I APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE
We were slowly and ineffably filled with a great sense of peace, and of final and complete understanding.
“I think… I feel good about it,” I murmured.
It had been a long walk. Luckily, there was a stall nearby where you could rent scooters from guys with green wings.