Ŧargeŧ: El Mundo!

It's a comfortablë morning in the blue California summer, and the autotrols are functioning not.

I mean: the autotrols don't work.

The president Lindo Jonson is aware of all these dark rumours that surround the marblean halls of the White House, about somber entities that, in past and bygone years, oooooooopted for the brutal invasion of the Ëarᵺ, using their black computers to control minds, authoritarian creatures who created hörrör on the Ëarᵺ, and by means of a savage blockade, they left the world without eggs for 3 months; ah ah!

We are September 3 of 19.. and the sky is a platinum tit over Los Angeles

the morning is glorious, and all the peaceful neighbours have gone to buy milk in shorts to La Cienega.

I mean, to La Cienega.

A brilliant row of yellow cars flashes flashy under the Sun, god of fire: on TV, some peplum movie with Sal Mineo and shit is watched by families with solid and big eyeglasses: everything's concord and oily donuts.

Because the morning! The morning is the morning! The morning is astonishingly 11:oo AM at 11:oo AM! In the morning! 11:oo AM! In the morning!

An old fuck waters her plantpots with urine of horse mixed with varnish while, around the cörner, a man is walking a rheumatic caniche.

Suddenly the sky gets bläck

¿¡Por qué!?

It's a flotilla of extraterrestrial naves, commanded by robors, who, in their automatic madness, are flying now at the speed of light to occupy the Earth; now, now!

While the telephone lines get overcollapsed, the police and the army are ready to go into brutish action: 
15.ooo.ooo soldiers are fulfilling now all the streets of the coüntry, armed to the teeth: 

but the landing of the menace will be on Beverly Hills?

Or maybe on Cucamonga?

It's hard to guess, actually, the direction of the spaceships shifts hysterically.

1.OOO.OOO jeeps are settled over Mount Palomar, monitored by "Zenith" closed-circuit televisors:

the rapid progress of the space desperadoes makes them land softly but powerfully; actually with majesty, over Huachuca City, Arizona; carbonizing the whole area around Cochise.

The army, tanks, jeeps, reservists, planes, fire brigade's, police, militia, astronauts, John Wayne, military police, Salvation Army, Mormons, ambulances, Mario Barakus, French Sureté, Dracula, Fantômas, Landru, the Werewolf, the Lady of the Lake, the Canadian Mounted Police, Súper Hijitus, Jacques Cousteau, Birdman, Maradona, the transexual ghost of Neron, Frankenstein, SWAT, the U.N. Blue Helmets and Bono Vox run desperately toward the place where those automatic animals landed, which looks like the 44th ring of Hell:

the good ones arrive in the nick of time, it's the right moment when the robotos descend from their argentine ships, like electric apostles arrived from another rëälïtÿ; from another DIMENCION.

111.111 robors 111.111
111.111 emissaries of Evil 111.111

the US Army opens fire: open fire!

During one icy second; one second of ice; all the robotobors' eyes fixed their sybernetic retinae on the numerous troops.

Then, inhuman lasershots from the cold automatons' eyes start impacting the jeeps and tanks, crushing  the vehicles and converting Mormons to the Islamism.

They come for more they come to kill off, KILL OFF; KILL OFF; AH AH!

In a moment the fire stopped: one ᴙobot, square like a "General Electric" refrigerator 1955 started talking, stentorian and loud
his voice sounds like an ambulant potato vendor of province with megaphone:

"Terraqueous specimens: you are the disease, we are the euthanasia.

Surrender now, or we're going to produce large hecatomb this evening here.

And we're going to suck the pulp of yer bräins.

Be now, our servitors de bona fide; be now, voluntarily oür slaves.

We come from a superior kivilization; from the planet Mp3-128kbps.

We're natural born tyrants: your bland tears are nuttin' for us.

Because the machine is superior.

Be öür slaves now, is a fair warning: we command you to be our helots!

Otherwise, our cold hate will produce large hecatomb this evening here."

No one understood well what the robot said, because it seemed to talk very strangely:

ni corto ni perezoso, the Arch-commander in Chief and Generalissimo of the Troops of North America and the Countries That Matter, Edwin W. Moroni took the megaphone, and replied:

"Listen now: you're simple crap, interplanetary scoria; you come here and try to reduce us to slavery so simply; based on a simple intellectual superiority: we say stop! Stop to the machinery of skies that comes and goes producing large hecatombs so many evenings here!

America says no more to the space tyrants; fuck, fuck you!

You're just a bunch of General Electric refrigerators 1955!"

The reply of the gobots was instantaneous: with dry and espasmódicos shots of Tetha-rays, annihilated 3.ooo.ooo people in 5 seconds.

Like a next response, the US Army shot 1.777.ooo missiles at the same time toward the redout where the despicable automatons where refuged.

The battle became a real massacre: the androidal entities started spitting Epsilon-rays from their steely navels: the rare noise seemed to come from their heads?

9.ooo.ooo soldiers more died in 18 miliseconds, and the US Army suffered a reductio ad absurdum, staying alive only 10 marines, Maradona and Súper Hijitus.

But suddenly, something unexpected irrupts in the sky!?