Background: A successful product of space monster labs, The BK Chicken, aka “BK Chicken Whopper”, aka “BK Chickenshit Sandwich”, was formed from clay by the Space Monsters for the Constitution, a group dedicated to destroying America. The BK Chicken doesn’t want to be known for demolishing skyscrapers; he insists he’s just a regular family space monster who likes to kick back at the space lounge and throw down a few million space bucks on “baseball tickets”.
The BK Originalist Chicken was appointed to mediate the rules of war between the space monsters and Space Force. He considers himself an impartial “umpire” who will consider “established precedent” such as Independence Day or Battlefield Earth. Critics point out that this is meaningless and does nothing to calm rumors that the BK Chicken wants to enslave human women for “research”. Other critics point out that these movies haven’t aged well, but they are a different kind of critic whose work is tangential to space force.
Evil Monster Superpowers: Selective memory. Can clear $$$ millions of space bucks debt in under a few hours. BK Chicken is armed with a giant pair of space scissors, and he says human women don’t need abortions from licensed human doctors because he can operate on the women himself (in case of emergencies). The scissors also are used to cut through tall buildings, regulatory tape, and can rip a hole in the dimensional fabric of space-time. So buyer beware.
But that’s not all. The BK Chicken loves baseball so much–guess who owns an entire spaceship full of frozen Ted Williams clones?– he has the power to possess the four Presidents of Mt. Rushmore and turn them into city-crushing monsters. There is nothing more terrifying than seeing a 50-foot Teddy Roosevelt punch a hole through an office window and grab a screaming lady. But this is the future we have to look forward to.
Supervillain Catchphrase: “Space Force is an abortion inducing drug.”
I received an anonymous e-mail this morning and have decided to publish it in full:
“Dear Dakota McKee,
I am writing to you because I noticed you recently began a series of profiles about space monsters with the intent of rallying support for a human Space Force. Implicit is the concern that the alien space monsters’ mothership presence in your solar system represents an existential crisis for Mother Earth, and by proxy, America.
I share with you this concern. However, I want to emphasize, as a space monster myself, I am not at odds with the space monster agenda. I believe that leveling cities and burying bodies alive in the rubble has overall been good for both space monsters and humans alike. But unlike those who control the mothership, I do not believe that their methods are sound. I believe Lord Zrumpf to be an amoral and overzealous alien overlord. Rest assured, there are some space monsters including myself who have endeavored to reign in his most space-monstrous impulses.
It is important for humans to recognize that the best way to resist the space monsters is not through radical means such as creating a Space Force, which would damper the sympathies of space monsters such as myself towards your Earthly plight. But rather I implore the humans, during the upcoming truce negotiations, to instead seek a more galactic consensus, one that temporarily ignores grievances by human against space monster, in favor of a more pragmatic and deferential approach that is likely to garner support from the ranks of both space monsters and humans alike.
Feel free to reference this anonymous message on twitter with the hashtag: #notallspacemonsters.
Which space monster do you think wrote to me? Was it Jared from Starway? One of the Cohnheads? Two-headed mothership mainstay John-Kellyann-Neoconway? Number 2 Pence Ill? Let the Speculation Begin!
Background: Before the space monsters declared war on America, Pruitticorn actually sued Planet Earth for not letting space monsters kill humans fast enough. Therefore, as a bit of an in-joke, Pruitticorn was briefly in charge of the “Space Monsters Human Protection Program”, before an unfortunate incident with hand lotion forced him into temporary retirement.
Evil Superpowers: Do not be fooled by his handsome torso-face. Pruitticorn is a formidable enemy for any Space Force. He has the power to turn the very instruments of our planetary defense against us, to become weapons of space monster destruction. He can turn solar panels into mountains of coal. Pristine beaches into crude oil slicks. When Pruitticorn is feeling particularly monstrous, he tempts human children with cans of insecticide, or asbestos mysteriously purchased from Russia.
Evil Catchphrase: None. Pruitticorn only issues statements through subordinate space monsters. All direct conversations with Pruitticorn take place inside his new soundproof spaceship.
Background: The daughter of powerful space monsters, Lady #MAGA doesn’t believe anyone can read her poker face … but nobody interprets her photogenic smiling, while space monsters destroy our cities, as inscrutable, so much as tone-deaf.
Space monsters separate human children from their parents at the atmospheric boundary layer? Lady #MAGA poses with her alien spawn.
Monstrous space weapons blasting toilet paper at a defenseless Puerto Rico? Lady #MAGA promises “we come in peace, Alejandro.”
And just when space monsters start singling out specific humans as crooked, slippery and dumb, Lady #MAGA tells Earth to “ignore the trolls, just dance.”
Don’t be fooled. Lady #MAGA doesn’t want to destroy the Earth … but that’s because she wants to rule it. Lest you think a benevolent space monster overlord wouldn’t be such a bad idea, here is a photo of Lady #MAGA in her true, 50-foot space monster form:
She is married to #J/K-LOL, who was once a human but was willingly transformed into a space monster to pursue his intergalactic ambitions. They may be living in a bad romance.
Evil Superpowers: None, really. But, like Lucy with the football, she’ll agree to peace summits with important humans like Al Gore or Planned Parenthood … only to stand back and do nothing when space monsters go on the attack.
Evil Catchphrase: “Pessimists are toxic. Space monsters are also toxic, when they spray alien venom on their enemies. But at least they’re not pessimists. What I’m trying to say is: we’re solution oriented. #MAGA u-la-la.”
Background: No. 2 Pence Ill doesn’t call the shots, okay? He’s not No. 1 Pence ill. That’s somebody else. He’ll always be No. 2. Even though appointing Yacht Syndrome as Space Monster of Education was his idea. Appointing Pruitticorn as the Space Monster of Littering was also his idea. The Mnuchin Massacre? The Zinke Deficiency? No. 2. again!
But threatening Planet Earth and world leaders like Rosie O’Donnell with “quantum plasma radiation and extraterrestrial umbrage the likes of which this galaxy has never seen before”? That was probably not No. 2’s recommendation.
No. 2. Pence ill comes from a planet with an atypical atmospheric composition and thus does not believe in the carbon-greenhouse effect that occurs on Planet Earth.
As for his own personal goals, No. 2. Pence ill hopes to vaporize the rings of Saturn, which he believes promotes homosexuality, and awaits the coming of the second Big Bang, during which all space monsters will be raptured into the Dark Universe.
Evil Superweakness: If in the same room with two females (or more) at a time, No. 2. Pence Ill can’t remember which one is his mother and will devolve into an aborted fetus.
Evil Catchphrase: “Frankly, condoms are a very very poor protection against the vacuum of space. Go Hoosiers!”
Background: Bolt-Goat is an inventor. The giant steampunk mailbox (see above)? That was his idea. Bolt-Goat is a thought leader. He’s also been characterized by his peers as evil, hyper-aggressive and all-around batshit insane.
This is incorrect.
Bolt-Goat is goatshit insane.
Special Powers: Harassing U.N. representatives. Growing out evil mustaches. Scaring people. Seriously, Bolt-Goat is scary. He scares me.
Bolt-Goat likes to plan preemptive military campaigns involving liberal use of nuclear weapons while molding clay sculptures. The sculptures never get finished. Nobody except Bolt-Goat knows what it means. It’s possible he just enjoys being creepy.
Background: These fools are in the background of every photo of every space monster-sponsored event. Speeches, cocktail parties … there they are, on the left or on the right, looking clueless and yet only too appropriate. Just because they won’t come down to Earth and become giant-sized to destroy skyscrapers doesn’t mean they aren’t space monsters. Usually, they take on the role of feckless cheerleading during a particularly vile space monster attack.
Blueberry Poopface used to leave juicy “presents” in other people’s beds during space monster college. He’s now dating someone at Fox’s Space Channel.
Vampire Monkey Man prefers to work behind the scenes LinkedIn page says he works in “potions”, which is totally vague. There was that one-time Vampire Monkey man made a space monster of his own but it didn’t do much damage.
Verdict: these two are annoying but pretty easy to dismiss, unless Blueberry Poopface decides to run for President, which would be a disaster. And yet this seems inevitable.
Special Powers: Derp face. Disappointing father. “Secret” negotiations with foreign governments.
Evil Catchphrase: “I’m going to feed my daughter candy, fatten her up, throw her into the oven and consume her delicious corpse. It’s never too early to teach her about socialism.”
The year was 1994. Donald Trump hadn’t even entered the picture yet.
You might say the current political crisis in outer space, that which necessitates a space force to protect America, began when Melania Repulsa first emerged from a thousand-year slumber inside a dumpster in Slovenia on the moon:
While nominally in a position of power to inflict maximum damage on the American experiment in democracy the downtown commercial sectors of our great metropolises–City Grove, Springtown, Albanyville–Melania is mostly just a figurehead. As we shall see later in this series, others in the space monster hierarchy supply the brains, the muscle, the useless-descendant hijinks, etc. She just kind of stands around looking strangely alien. It’s still no excuse, and I hope she is pulverized by the space force.
SpecialPowers: stealing quotes from famous black women. Can morph into a mannequin at will. A garish sense of personal and interior Christmas decoration. Surprisingly powerful hand slap. Most recently: ironic chain migration.
Evil Catchphrase: “At last! It’s time to conquer…meh. I don’t really care, do you?”