The Bright Side.

Peter Smith has just found out he has a month left to live due to a lethal brain tumour.
He has also just found out that in less than a month, the human race will become extinct and that he has been chosen to be one of six humans to survive the approaching apocalypse. And who has saved him? E.I.P.F, the Earth Inhabitant Protection Front, a group of intergalactic environmentalists who want to save just one species.
And so, whilst also keeping his deadly secret from the aliens, Peter embarks on a quest to rally the chosen survivors, whilst avoiding Government Agents, the secret services, Satanists, Velociraptors, and a manic depressive Tyrannosaurus .


2. Chapter 2

 “Mr Smith” the receptionist said in a bored voice, desperately attempting to sound polite. “Dr Mooring will see you now”

Peter bade farewell to the man who was attempting to enlighten him about his fungal nail infection, and entered the doctors office. Usually Peter didn't go to the doctors in fear of getting an infection; but several weeks earlier he had been bumped by a mugger. He hadn't been mugged, the mugger merely pushed past him in an attempt to escape. Peter didn't have time to be mugged and clearly advertised the fact. During the course of events, Peter had received a very painful knock on the head. The doctor had said there was nothing to worry about, but Peter had insisted on having CT scan, MRI scan and every other scan available just to be sure he hadn't sustained any brain damage. Today he received the results. Dr Mooring smiled at Peter like a wolf who, after six months of being forced into vegetarianism, has just been told he can eat meat. He removed his glasses as Peter sat down warily. “Mr Smith, good to see you again” he said in an innocently friendly voice. Automatically, Peter stopped trusting him. He stopped being the kind family doctor who gave you a lolly after a routine check up, and suddenly, became what he truly was. A monster. The spawn of Satan who had the power to either kill you, or keep you alive for a few extra, miserable years. But then again, Peter just didn't like doctors. Dr Mooring's hand rested on an ominous, white folder. He quickly snatched it up as Peter stared at it fearfully, “Now” the physician said impassively. “We gave you the scans, like you asked”


“And we have the results”


Almost theatrically, the doctor opened the file. He glanced from it to Peter, judging the appropriate amount of time before the pause became unnecessary. “Ah” he said finally.

Peter blinked, “Ah?” he said, “Is that it? All this waiting I've gone through and all you can say, is 'Ah'? Why is that?”

“Because this is the wrong file” he placed the file down and picked up a second, clearly marked Mr P. A. Smith. He opened it and said, “Oh” he then noticed Peter's less than amused face. “Congratulations Mr Smith, it's a positive”

“I thought that was bad?”

“Commiserations Mr Smith it's a positive” corrected Dr Mooring.

“So what does that mean?”

“It means you've got a tumour the size of a water melon sitting away in your head leeching the life out of you”

“Is there any good news?”

“No. But there is some mildly irritating news”


“You've only got three and a half weeks left to live” Peter smiled at the pleasantly smiling doctor. “That doesn't sound irritating” He said, “That sounds awful!”

“I think it's pretty good actually” Dr Mooring stated.

“How?” Peter asked loudly, he was suddenly becoming very stressed.

“Well, three and a half weeks gives you plenty of time to sort out your financial dealings” the doctor explained, “And I notice that your only next of kin is your mother and step – father, so it shouldn't take too long to say goodbye. So overall, not too bad when you consider other people” The doctor resumed smiling. Peter could hardly believe his ears, he knew doctors were meant to be detached, but this was stupid. “Did you have life insurance?”

“What?” Peter asked, “No. of course not”


The receptionist suddenly barged into the doctor's office. “There's two gentlemen to see you sir” she said lazily.

“I'm busy” the doctor said automatically

“Oh not you” the woman rudely responded, she pointed to Peter. “They asked for him” Dr Mooring stared at Peter venomously. “I'm not busy” he said standing up, he quickly followed the girl out. Waiting patiently in the reception room, and politely ignoring a talkative man with a fungal infected nail, were two black suited men. When Peter stepped out, they simultaneously stood up. They each held a black briefcase in their right hand, and wore a silver Rolex on the left. Both had their Black hair greased back. Together they looked like Jehovah's witnesses, who had momentarily forgotten their religion.

Their facial appearance was strangest of all. Their skin had a grey pallor, almost white, their eyes were also grey and they wore dazed smiles. Together they extended their left hands, almost mechanically. Tentatively, Peter shook both hands. “Mr Smith” said the left man, “We must converse with you immediately”

“Please pardon the imperativeness of my associates manner” said the second man, “But the matter of conversation is very important”

“Erm, okay” said Peter.

“Vriscillistic!” both men exclaimed.

“Pardon?” Peter said, blinking at the strange word.

“Vriscillistic?” left man said, “Not a popular word?”

“I've never heard of it”

The man on the left turned to his associate, “Make a note Kurt” he said, “Vriscillistic is a word not to be used”

“Understood” said the man addressed as Kurt.

“Shall we go outside?” Peter suggested. Both odd men nodded, and Peter led them out to the car park. Immediately the men stopped and faced Mr Smith. “Now we must adopt a hamarish attitude”


“Note Kurt that hamarish must not be used”


“Now we must adopt a serious attitude” the man continued.


“My name is Lars” said the man, “And this is Kurt”


“And we are aliens”


“And the human race will be extinct in three weeks” said Lars.

Peter stared at the two obviously insane men, “Really?”



“Correct” Kurt said.

“And you're aliens?”

“Correct” Lars said.

“Prove it”

The two aliens proved it.

First Peter laughed. Then he fainted and then, in surprise at fainting, he wet himself. And in embarrassment from wetting himself, he threw up.

Overall, it was not a very impressive first encounter.


Several thousand miles away and irritably ignorant of the fact mankind had just made contact with an alien race. Hank Seamus sat in his office, desperately trying to get angry about something. Hank enjoyed being angry, it made everyone else miserable. Hank was very good at making people miserable.

Presently two members of the last meeting entered their superior's office. The first, was Anna Lacey. On her resume she states that she is a dynamic and forceful woman. In reality, she is a bitch. What makes it even worse, is the fact she is an intelligent bitch. Seamus didn't mind this, because he quite liked the dominating type, they reminded him of his mother. Besides, Hank told himself, if all else fails, she has got a nice rack.

Lacey's companion was Jack Hargraves, who was not dynamic, and most certainly not forceful. In fact he was quite the reverse. He wore thick rimmed glasses and became very nervous around authority, and in Jack's situation, that meant everyone except for his teddy bear Mr wiggles, whom he still kept at the foot of his bed. He also happened to be the African – American Hank had so obviously taken a disliking to. He attempted to hide behind Lacey, whilst at the same time imitate her confident poise. The result was similar to a man doing the hokey cokey whilst suffering from a severe bout of constipation. The two Agents sat before Seamus, their eyes immediately gravitated towards his hat; this meant that Lacey didn't notice Hank's gaze gravitate down. “Well?” he asked her chest.

“We have gained some information on the UFOs sir” she said to the hat.

“Good” he said, “What do you know?”

“They most certainly are not human” Jack said helpfully. Silently, both Lacey and Seamus glared at the quivering man. “And what, if I may ask, are they?”

“Alien, sir” Jack said, attempting to make himself more appetising to the floor, which was promptly refusing to swallow him. “Erm, of the extra-terrestrial kind, sir”

“What?” Seamus said, “Like E.T?”

“Of course sir” Jack said, “That's what E.T means”

“What my colleague means” Anna said calmly, desperately trying to avoid a Alec Waterman situation.

Waterman had once been in a meeting with Seamus, and had unwisely corrected his grammar. Hank Seamus loathed people correcting him. They never did get the blood off the ceiling. “What he means sir” Lacey said, “Is that their technology is far superior to ours”

“Like China?” Seamus asked.


“Not as good?”


“Dang, that's good” Hank leaned back in his chair and started twiddling his fat thumbs. He wasn't cut out for this job. The basic training was watching series 1 of Star Trek and then taking a quiz. Hank had got bored after episode two and had fallen asleep during the quiz. He didn't like aliens that had better technology then China. That meant missiles might not work, he didn't like the sound of that.

“But we did manage to cut into one of their transmissions sir” Lacey said.

“What? You did?”

“Yes sir” Lacey said smiling smugly. “And I translated it”


“Yes sir. It was quite simple. In the human language, E is the most common letter, and so I used the same concept for their language, using E as the letter that appeared most . . .”

At the point Seamus turned off. The conversation had suddenly become technical, and conversations should not do that. It was dangerous, someone could get hurt. So Hank turned his attention to something he could understand. My god, he thought, they actually bounce when she talks! It was probably best not to tell Mr Seamus that the woman he was currently oggling was a heavy feminist, he wouldn't notice. He still thought a feminist was a type of musician. “But when that failed I put it through google translator and it came out with this”

“Beautiful” Hank said, snapping to attention with perfect timing. He took the piece of paper Lacey offered him and stared at it blankly. “Are you sure this is properly translated?” he asked.

“It's upside down” Jack pointed out.

“Oh, I knew that” Seamus said, correcting his mistake. “This just says: 'Peter Smith, London, Doctor's appointment 9:45' and then it just lists some numbers!”

“Exactly sir”

“London?” Hank said, “That's not in America”

“No sir” Lacey said, “It's in England”

“But why do aliens want to go to England?”

“See the Queen?”

“But we've got the damn president of the united states!” Seamus wailed, “It's not fair!”

“We understand sir” Lacey said soothingly.

“And what are all those numbers?”

“They're co-ordinate sir” Jack said, inspecting the sheet.

“How do you know?” Lacey asked, she didn't like people knowing what she knew. It made what she knew not so interesting. “Well, I'm a map maker.” Jack said, “I make maps”

Both Hank and Anna stared at the man, “What the hell do we need a map maker who makes maps for?”

“Well” Jack said, growing uncomfortable in the silence. “I only do it as a hobby”

“You make maps for a hobby?” Seamus asked in despair.

“Yes sir” Jack said, panicking, “It helps me relax!”

“People do not make maps for leisure!” Hank said, aghast at the fact someone could be so dull. “No!” he said, “If men want leisure they go to a strip club and squeeze a girl's boobs and then go and shoot someone!”

“Oh” said Jack, who lived with his mother and had no intention of squeezing a woman's lady parts, no matter how squeezable. “Erm, well, I could most probably locate where this Peter Smith -”

“Too late” Lacey said, “My team also spotted some energy spikes near Hubble”

“Who?” said Seamus.

“The telescope”

“Oh. Continue.”

“One going down, another going up”


“One to Earth, the other, to their ship” Anna said, “They must be using a teleport”

“Oh, of course” said Hank, not knowing what a teleport was, “Well, let's just use our own tele-thing and go get those aliens!”
“We don't have teleports sir”

“Then get me one!” Seamus barked, he then turned to Hargraves, “I want you to got hold of London and find out what they're doing about this alien problem. Now go!”

Both agents hurried from the room, Seamus smiled and tipped his hat back, he then slotted another toothpick into his mouth, boy he liked authority.  

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