An alien spaceship lands on a pasture. Four men lean against a fence, drink beer from forties, and stare. After the ship’s language detector trawls the Internet and implants a rudimentary knowledge of English in the crew’s brains, Commander Plogg tells First Mate Zux, “Go you them. Learn English good. Find out Earth good or bad.”
Zux exchanges tentacles for legs and arms, synthesizes bluejeans and humanlike head, joins the men, and imbibes their fizzy nutritional fluid.
One Earth hour later Zux returns. Her walk has become unsteady.
“What do we?”
“We get the fuck off this shithole planet.”