CHAPTER ONE

They landed on the new planet and Dawn looked out of the window with intrigue.
 
“It doesn’t look like they have any weather.”
 
Rolo paused as he was pulling on his space suit and looked at her. He had eyes that made you want to fork him in the ear or attack him with a spanner.
 
“What do you mean they don’t have any weather?” He had a dull voice too.
 
“I can’t see any weather…” Dawn was consistent, you had to give her that much.
 
“If you can’t see any weather doesn’t that just mean that it’s dry?” Rolo was a smug prick.
 
“Not necessarily.” She turned away from the window and started pulling on her space suit. It made her look like a potato and, worse, she knew it. 
 
“How many likes did you get on your last post?” She didn’t really care but she’d once read in a book that it pays to be polite. She was finding that to be misleading advice.
 
“The post of the Yoomlonitzsche Alien?”
 
“Yeah,” Dawn said. She was losing interest, fast.
 
“About forty,” said Rolo, disheartened.
 
“Right.” Dawn couldn’t even feign interest. She regretted having asked.
 
“It’s the algorithms,” Rolo explained. He paused in agony. “The algos hate me.” He scoffed. Five planets, two galaxies, countless awards and still I can’t get a photo to go viral, he privately lamented.
 
“Not even of my penis,” he mumbled. He’d accidentally said it out loud. Dawn looked at him.

“What?” She probed.
 
“Nothing. You must be hearing things again. Get a grip Dawn, you daft fucking creature.” He turned away, embarrassed. He was spooked. Losing his mind. No one liked him. Not even the woman who’d spent 784 days hurtling through space with him. His mother had once told him that he was a catch, but he was starting to wonder if she was actually just an idiot. All he could really remember of her, beyond her doting, was her placid face as she sat watching the news while the First Great Deranged Fish Invasion occurred. Like most of humanity, she had died watching it unfold on her phone.

Her generation was now referred to as the 21st Century Clowns. Rolo and Dawn were part of the Humanity Restoration Project, but they weren’t much better.

CHAPTER TWO
 
Weary and looking like root vegetables, they exited the spacecraft and stepped onto the new planet.
 
“One big step for mankind, one giant leap for your ego,” announced Dawn.

CHAPTER THREE
 
Four days (if you could call them days, as days were a human construct) had passed and Rolo and Dawn were lost. They were thirsty and hungry and their spacesuits were starting to stink. Moreover, they hated each other and, yet, they were all each other had. Quite a situation. Not unlike the Cold War.

They moaned as they struggled to climb something that resembled a hill (hills were simply a human construct – this was more like a MhgiolprtisH00099). As they climbed the MhgiolprtisH00099, Dawn thought she saw a Christ like figure hiding in a bush (bushes were a human construct too). “Jesus!” she exclaimed, and Rolo lost his footing.
 
“Arghhh,” said Rolo as his flailing arms grabbed for a gfttttttt87. Dawn looked back at him, her face wide with terror. If he fell to his death, she would not only be lost, but alone. If he fell to his death, he would be dead. Tempting. Her eyes watched for what felt like an earthly eternity until his hand grabbed a gfttttttt87 and he found balance. He let out a sigh of relief and they carried on climbing. 

Soon, they would arrive.

CHAPTER FOUR
 
Dawn was right, there was no weather. They felt nothing on their faces. They looked up, and there was nothing. Not even a black sky. Just nothing. They couldn’t describe it to each other.
 
“It’s like a night sky, but without the sky…” Dawn said.
 
“It’s like… It’s like I’m staring up at a soul. No, not a soul, a tuna fish. God, I can’t articulate it!” Rolo whined.
 
Dawn looked concerned. She’d seen him get like this before and the resolution had involved a man named Frod. No, not Fred. Frod.
 
“How are we going to get back?” A fair question from Dawn.
 
Rolo looked vacant. “I have no idea.”

What a useless cunt.
 
With that, a terrible crack split across the nothingness and they clasped their hands over their ears, wincing. Strobe lights danced wildly around them and, as they tried to find their bearings, fear entered the soul (even though it is a human construct).
 
Dawn – still covering her ears – looked into the distance with the sort of look that would make you want to pass on an orgy. Rolo turned pale. They were aghast, eyes fixed on a horrendous sight. Armies of Bullmen were marching towards them – teeth bared and slobbering mouths turned upwards into warped, damming, hellish grins. The Bullmen emitted the sound of death as they marched steadily towards Dawn and Rolo. It was the sound of worldly horrors – unending abuse, death at the hands of machines, tyranny, power, guilt, suffering; all that was ugly and overbearing. These were the Bullmen.
 
With something now much more tangible than fear in their eyes, Dawn and Rolo dragged themselves onto their feet and made a run for it. With that, the Bullmen charged and their clattering hooves colluded to form a cacophony of noise – like the churning of metal. And as they charged, their tongues hung out, flopping all over the place. And their bloody eyes glinted with desire. And their hairy human beer bellies wobbled and flapped around.
 
Dawn and Rolo ran as hard as they could. They darted around what might have been a corner. They hopped over a fvh87600. They prayed to God, even though God was a human construct. And that’s when it happened.
 
Ross Kemp holding a one-inch man.