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Fan Literature   -   AvP: The Spoof   -   Chapter 9
AvP: The Spoof
Written by:  SiL


Chapter 9 - Oh, Yeah: Aliens!


The first Alien broke free of its home and looked to its mother.

“Sorry, mum,” he said, “but I just have to do this on my own.”

With a sniff and a wave he left the room, maturing into a full-sized Alien before he’d even left the room. Then he turned on his heel, grabbed the other hosts, and stuck them to the wall.

“That was quick,” said the Queen.

“Movie magic. Grow old in seconds, you can.”

The Queen nodded thoughtfully and continued laying eggs.


The Aliens all stared with intent at the TermiPeng. The small chest bulged, synthetic skin split, ‘blood’ poured out and wires snapped and spewed sparks. Metal plates creaked over each other, hydraulics whined and, at last, the Alien baby was free.

It looked around, grinned, and raised its tiny arm. Its tiny arm, however, was just a plain old minigun that shot plasma. The Aliens very slowly backed off.

The TermiPengLien gave a squeaking hiss as it wedged its way out of the metal chest. The sound was surprisingly cute. The Aliens started to crowd around slowly, not wanting to disturb this beautiful creation but at the same time wanting to witness its birth.

Jurassic Park theme music wafted through the air and into the room. An Alien, twitching at the mouth, grabbed a sledge hammer and charged out of the room yelling “Shut the f*ck up already!”. This was followed by several loud banging noises, some broken notes, and the occasional splatter of blood.

The Alien walked back in, his hammer drenched in blood.

“Next one to do that dies.”


The Leader stepped into the pyramid and sniffed. There were several different scents in the air; Aliens, humans, Predators, Death, Pie, and the smell of public toilets.

The Leader looked at the Young ones. “How long have we had toilets in the sacred pyramid?”

“We don’t know,” a Young one replied. “Crap’n’Pants installed several air fresheners in his port-a-potty. Has bad trouble with suspense.”

The Leader nodded and started down the corridor. Any page now there was going to be a lot of Aliens in these corridors, and it would be up to these Predators to stop them. Or be stopped by them.

He stopped and held up a hand. “Has everyone gone to the toilet?”

A faint flushing noise mixed in with the chorus of ‘Yes’. The Leader nodded.

“Everyone cleaned their trophies?”

Another chorus of ‘Yes’. And the sound of a struggle.

“Crap’n’Pants is having some trouble, sir,” reported a Young one.

The Leader sighed. This always happened on hunting trips: You’d always get one stupid moron who couldn’t quite grasp the concept that to have a trophy, two things must be done: 1) The Game must be dead first. You can’t have a live body tied to your belt all the time. 2) The trophy must be separated from the rest of the body.

The Leader was a veteran of these missions, and he always, always, always had to put up with some idiot like Crap’n’Pants. Luckily the Alien swarm arrived and surrounded the newbies, taking them away into the pyramid.

Then, in the silence, there was a flush of a toilet.




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