“Greetings, Jake45,” chorused Green_Turtle_Boy_369’s parents.

“Hi,” said Jake. “It’s just Jake by the way.”

“I’m the Grand-Zombie-Master,” continued the larger of the two aliens. “We are so grateful for what you have done for us.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jake45,” said the other.

“Jake, just Jake,” said Jake quietly, wiping the slimy Crawkling spittle off his face.

Green_Turtle_Boy_369 stepped in and ushered them all into a cavernous and lascivious sitting room. There were six chairs, and each of them could have been thrones such were there grandness. Jake sat his scrawny frame in the middle of one, feeling like a frightened child on his first day at big school.

“Jake,” he began. “My parents wanted to bring you here so that they can thank you for what you have done for Crawk. For years we have been trapped here in our galaxy, with nowhere else to go. It is overcrowded, we’re living in squalor and we’re not even able to visit the Outer Galaxies, even on holiday. So emigration is clearly impossible. The opportunity you have given us to overthrow this cruel and unjust treatment that we get is unbelievable. We thank you. All we want to be able to do is go on holiday.”

“So why are you at war?” asked Jake.

“Because we must fight our oppressors!” cried the Grand-Zombie-Master.

“Why?” asked Jake. “They’re never going to let you in now. If you’d just come in, had a holiday and gone home they might have relaxed the ruling.”

“I never thought of that,” admitted the Grand-Zombie-Master, “but war is a lot more fun anyway. It is the best kind of holiday.”

“It is,” agreed the Grand-Zombie-Mistress. “You know, when we got married you always told me you’d take me to war one day. Do you think we can go?”

“I’d have thought so. Archibald! Get my ship ready! We’re going on holiday!” A tiny green Crawkling saluted, and ran off quickly.

“Oh, darling! I love you!” said the Grand-Zombie Mistress. “I’d better go and start packing, you know how the servants always mess it up.” With that, Green_Turtle_Boy_369’s Mom scurried away, leaving a trail of green slime on the floor. In Crawk, washing was a sign of poverty. The aristocrats didn’t wash, and Green_Turtle_Boy_369’s parents hadn’t washed for a long, long time.

The Grand-Zombie-Master turned towards Jake.

“So Jake45, what do you want?”

“Errr.. nothing? You brought me here,” Jake replied.

“No!” laughed Green_Turtle_Boy_369. “He means in payment. You have done a massive favour for our country, now you must be rewarded. You can have anything you want.”

“Oh…” said Jake. “In that case, I would like to die.”

The Grand-Zombie-Master burst out laughing.

“Jake45, you’re so funny!” he chortled.

“Dad, he’s not joking,” said Green_Turtle_Boy_369. “Don’t you remember how I managed to get him to set off the Aliens.exe program?”

“Ahhh.. yes I remember. Suicide,” he said, “a most unfortunate business. You don’t want to be messing about with that young Jake45. You’ll get yourself killed.”

“That’s the point!” said Jake weakly. “I hate everything, and I want it all to go away.”

“Well that’s not really good enough. I know what I will do that will cheer you up, I’m going to give you a job as a reward. It’s the finest job in the land!”

“Dad, you’re not…”

The Grand-Zombie-Master beamed widely, and Green_Turtle_Boy_369 knew to be quiet.

“Jake45, you are now officially the Crawk-King. Our celebrated Leader of War.”

The Grand-Zombie-Master and his wife moved their hands across their chest in a strange manner, criss-crossing and then waving at Jake.

Green_Turtle_Boy_367 and Jake45 both put their head in their hands.

“I don’t want a job,” croaked Jake45. “I’m too busy shunning society.”

“Well you can’t do that anymore,” grinned the Grand-Zombie-Master. “Society is relying on you.”

The Grand-Zombie-Master stood up and trudged away, exceptionally pleased with the way that meeting had gone. He had a brand new war leader who would be fantastic – he had started the war after all and there were no better credentials than that – and he himself was going on an activity holiday! He couldn’t wait to blast the Hell out of some god-damn aliens.