Scientists have confirmed today that they have discovered alien DNA – the discovery itself having been made at Wigan Fried Chicken, and not from somewhere expected like the surface of Mars or Windsor Palace.
The one thing that all life forms on Earth have in common is that we all evolved from one single point. The alien genetic material discovered, however, is allegedly as different to terran DNA as is Wigan’s Fried Chicken to that of Kentucky.
The scientist behind the discovery – one Lisbeth Horrorcock – was in Wigan investigating reports of unexplained phenomena when she decided to get some dinner. She picked Wigan Fried Chicken because it seemed like the owners had a good sense of humour – not realising that their slogan – “It’s sanitise your fingers immediately afterwards good!” – was in fact legally mandated.
Lisbeth first suspected that there was something off about her dinner when it began seeping bubbling, green ooze and twitching its legs like the chicken from Eraserhead.
The second clue came when she began carving into it with her plastic knife and fork and the headless plate-foul screamed at her in a language that was totally otherworldly.
Through the use of a language detection app and more prodding, Lisbeth was able to confirm that the language was indeed extra-terrestrial. She was also able to confirm that the creature did actually taste like chicken, although you can say that about most things, and all it proves is that these scientists have freakishly strong stomachs.
After several more minutes of sciencing, the food-carcass eventually ran off – leaving Ms Horrorcock short of a meal and the £2.19 that she’d paid for it. Obviously the young scientist couldn’t let that stand, and so she went to complain to the restaurant’s manager.
Lisbeth was taken into a backroom where a man sitting in a chair told her that the store’s manager – one Mr Kuato – would be with her in a minute. Horrorcock began airing her grievances to the sitting man anyway – questioning how she was supposed to track down paranormal phenomena if she couldn’t even find a meal that didn’t run away.
As she was talking, however, the sitting man began to writhe about like Stig of the Dump in a Jacuzzi – an obscene dance that ended with him unbuttoning his shirt and revealing that he had a little baby-man growing out of his torso:
“Hello, I’m Mr Kuato,” the little baby-man said, “how can I help you today?”
“I don’t know what sort of establishment you think you’re running here, Mr Kuato, but my chicken dinner just got up ran away.”
“I’m very sorry that your experience has been less than excellent,” Mr Kuato said, as he opened a drawer that was filled with an eerie green light. “Please accept this sachet of ketchup in compensation, and open your stomach.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I’m afraid that I have to get back to work now, although I shall certainly be eating this sachet as soon as I get chance.”
After Horrorcock got back to work, one of her colleagues noticed that the sachet actually said ‘WARNING! HAZARDOUS ALIEN SLIME’ on it. Although she was unable to convince Lisbeth that there was anything of interest in that, she was able to pinch the sachet and run some tests on it before the dopey scientist noticed.
Since the discovery, Wigan Fried Chicken has been precautionarily exploded to prevent any further outbreak – although residents of the town should rest assured that Pasty King, McPies, and Stoutbucks all remain open, and are probably not just fronts for a human/alien hybridisation programme.
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