RAFF RIOT

Dazed and confused, I sat up and looked around the alien planet where I had crash-landed. After my home planet had been consumed by a worldwide pandemic, I had gone out exploring other worlds and went through some sort of wormhole that took me here. I couldn't believe what I saw...

 

There were talking apes with droopy eyes and blue cats wearing human clothes. A human-looking creature with a pencil-thin neck approached. I couldn't see him too clearly; my eyes were having trouble focusing under the alien sun. "What are you?"

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"A Cryptopunk," he said.

As I looked around at the landscape teeming with wacky creatures, I realized my eyes were fine; this "Cryptopunk's" appearance was naturally pixelated. "Where am I?"

"Enefteeze," he said. Odd name for a planet, I thought. "It's an acronym. It stands for non-fun–" he continued in some alien garble that I didn't understand. He could see my eyes glazing over, so he cut short his explanation and said "Jee-em, fren" (more alien talk), "What do you want to do here?"

I shrugged, "I'm not sure. I was a screenwriter on my home planet."

He grinned, "Oh, you're an artist." When he saw me cringe, he chuckled, "Here's some alpha... Artist is a good word here."

I was shocked, "What kind of crazy planet is this?"

He said, "Come to my Spaces." I followed the Cryptopunk into a palace packed with all sorts of bizarre beings. "Take your proper place," he said. I headed toward the back of the crowd. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Oh, where I'm from, a place called Hollywood, the writers rank below the caterers."

He smiled and pointed toward the throne, "Here, the creator is king."

I wept with joy and shat my pants at the same time.

And so I began to use my creative skills to help these creatures build their own worlds for their communities...

and it was glorious.