A Better End of the Universe: A Cosmic Con

By Max Penman and R J London

Alien invasion, That isn't funny!

No, no invasion, just two alien conman imprisoned and on their way to the ... end of the universe a humane (?) punisment for their crimes who accidently crash l;and onm earth.

They can't resist a good con job. Unfortunately once they land on earth and meet up with a  group of human misfits, their flim flamming is over. Happenstance and a heck of a lot of luck makes them rich beyond belief. How can you con anyone when you've become the conman's target?

Follow their hilarious adventures as they make their way from their home in the 37 Worlds (all 39 of them including mall world) to Mega billionaires on earth.

Through it all, the laughs keep coming as they wend their way through a never ending variety of odd balls.

Find out who gets the last laugh.

Aliens running a wedding chapel in Los Vegas. Now that's funny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mick MacNeil
• Release date: Jun 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201769475

Book preview

A Better End of the Universe:

A Cosmic Con

RJ London, Max Penman

A Better End of the Universe: A Cosmic Con

By RJ London and Max Penman

Published by Nosepeople Productions on behalf of the authors.

Copyright 2017 RJ London and Max Penman

License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This book may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

Dedication:

For my parents

RJ

To my family for their patience with me and for those beta readers, Gabe Radno, Harry McAvoy, Dave Lecuyer and especially David Jackson who provided some excellent feedback.

Max

Table of Contents 

Chapter 1:  Debacle at Darvpool

Chapter 2:  Greenlight on a Wormhole

Chapter 3:  Security in Dreamless Sleep 

Chapter 4:  Meeting Schtincci and Jinjr

Chapter 5:  COCK of the Rock

Chapter 6:  Whoopsie!

Chapter 7:  Bringing down COCK

Chapter 8:  Maybe together we can stop COCK

Chapter 9:  COCKamanie Scheme

Chapter 10:  Ink-Stained Wretch

Chapter 11:  That Windmill Coming on to Me?

Chapter 12:  Beezlebom!

Chapter 13:  Meet the Preds

Chapter 14:  Political Truths

Chapter 15:  Ship Up or Shape Out

Chapter 16:  Can’t Take a Joke

Chapter 17:  With the Exception of the Zither

Chapter 18:  Everybody Hates a Slow Tripper

Chapter 19:  Screwed, Dicked, and Hung

Chapter 20:  What Was That Question Again?

Chapter 21:  What The...?

Chapter 22:  Your Call is Important to Us

Chapter 23:  Lots of Money in Petrified Pooh

Chapter 24:  Schtincci’s Dream Escape

Chapter 25:  Nowhere, Man!

Chapter 26:  That’s a Lot of Roobish

Chapter 27  Don’t Tell Us What to Do

Chapter 28:  New Friends

Chapter 29:  Alien Nation

Chapter 30:  A Whole Lot of Bear Scat

Chapter 31:  We know the Guy in 51

Chapter 32:  Back and Gone Again

Chapter 33:  Simple, Pass Impenetrable Security

Chapter 34:  Hang a Left at Albuquerque

Chapter 35:  Area 51 Resort, Spa, and Carwash

Chapter 36:  This is My Dream Life Not Yours

Chapter 37:  What is This Thing Called Vegas

Chapter 38:  If You Can’t Beat the Machine, Be the Machine

Chapter 39:  A Jolly Swagman Walks into a Bar

Chapter 40:  The Marrying Kind?

Chapter 41:  It’s Ours, But What is It?

Chapter 42: Associates from the Desert

Chapter 43:  Down With Cloud 9

Chapter 44:  Weddings Can be a Riot

Chapter 45:  Love and Marriage, Too Much Cash to Carry

Chapter 46:  Not Much of a Gamble

Chapter 47:  And the Sun Sinks Slowly in the West

Chapter 48:  You Don’t Know Squat

Chapter 49:  What? More Money

Chapter 50:  It Will Take More Than a Plastic Bead

Chapter 51:  We Told the Witch Doctor

Chapter 52:  Stay Tuned to Your Local Antlers

Chapter 53:  Damn, More Money

Chapter 54:  Alien Crime, Online

Chapter 55:  It’s Da Living

Chapter 56:  Conning the Cons

Chapter 57   Revenge Will Be Mine

Chapter 58:  Where Does the Money Go

Chapter 59:  Hey, We Do the Scamming Around Here

Chapter 60:  Time to Say Goodbye

Chapter 61:  Things are Looking Up

Chapter 1:  Debacle at Darvpool

The sound that filled the forty-two million plus rooms of the Darvpool lunar prison complex was horrific. It sounded as if something very, very large had stepped on a fat and very gaseous jellyfish. Sweet Edibles and High-pitched Hum ended their conversation about preferred Snorgle clubs on Wapesis and turned to their computer screens.

High-pitched Hum speed erased the video game he had been playing for the past thirty-two griggle cycles and began to scan the alert pages looking for something. He had no idea what. Sweet Edibles may have spent more time reading the guidebooks but had no idea what to look for either. The sound was fading when Manager Intors stepped out of his office exclaiming, What in the hell, is that?

He actually said, What in the station where passengers cry and moan because the vehicle to take them home wasn’t coming anymore, is that?

Before it quite faded away, the sound started up again. Perhaps someone should inform the Chief Warden, said Manager Intors just as the Chief Warden stepped into the communication room where Intors, Sweet Edibles and High-pitched Hum were scrambling to find the source of the sound.

What the hell is that?" asked the Chief Warden,

He didn’t actually say hell, he said dark place where everyone feels like bodily waste, but in both cases, the word hell seems to work.

I don’t know, shouted Manager Intors, but I have Sweet Edibles and High-pitched Hum searching it this minute."

Sweet Edibles, High-pitched Hum, thought the Chief Warden, where do these interns get those stupid names?

Well, he shouted, just get them to stop that fergamilic awful noise.

Don’t think it's possible, sir, said Sweet Edibles.

Why? asked the Manager and the Chief Warden together.

I don’t know, shouted Sweet Edibles, but it must mean something. I doubt it will stop until we find out what that something is.

Well, find out, said the Chief Warden, and get it stopped. I was just having a short lunchtime consciousness shutdown (nap) when that fergamilic awful noise flung me back to full awareness.

In fact, this was the first time that sound had been heard in over a millennium. That was back when the complex was a containment unit. Except for the interns, the management crew and the ‘conpad’ launch crew, there was no one else in the complex. In fact, there was no one within several light years. That’s because the complex was on the tiny remote planet Darvpool that for countless millennia had been the high security prison planet for the 37 worlds of the Zigraget and their variant species.

No prisoner had been held there, not even in stasis, for thousands of  earth years. Its only real use was symbolic. There was nothing a Zigraget judge loved to say more to the convicted at the end of a trial than, I condemn you to Darvpool.

It was also a useful place for members of the high council to provide holiday and starting out jobs for their less gifted offspring. It should have been long since scrapped, but it was a useful make work project.

That’s why Sweet Edibles and High-pitched Hum were there (by the way you might find it more comfortable to call them Candy and Buzz). That’s even why Manager Intors and the Chief Warden and the conpad launchers, too, were there.

The conpads could have been launched from any of the home worlds, but it was easier to do it from the remote and legendary prison planet, Darvpool. Darvpool was a place no one ever thought about except for the high judges and the interns, officers and launch crew who stayed for a hundred and twenty-three griggle cycles (about three years or so). At which time, if they were ready for integration into the Zigraget workforce, or to go back to school, they would return to their home world and attempt to put their stay in Darvpool out of their conscious thoughts.

Some unhireables such as Manager Intors and the Chief Warden were given full-time positions in the complex.  With this came the privilege of returning to their home worlds during holidays and to attend funerals. While holidays were frequent, funerals were not.  Zigraget peoples were hardy and long-lived.  All but forgotten, the prison planet of Darvpool served its purpose as a site for the launching of the conpads.  The Zigraget, consider themselves to be a very Zigragetarian people. Locking fellow Zigraget up in cells, even in stasis seemed too brutal. They would put the dangerous criminals into conpads programmed to fly them in stasis to the end of the universe.

Remarkable technology allowed the conpads to follow a straight line passing through any object in their way with no effect on the object, or the sleeping convicts on board. In doing this, the Zigraget could proudly say that instead of reducing that incredible lifespan, they in fact added to it. Since no one knew how far the end of the universe was, these convicts, in fact, lived much longer even than the most long-lived Zigraget back on the 37 worlds.

At the time this very Zigragetmane treatment of dangerous convicts was introduced, the Zigraget were happy to learn that technology was installed aboard every conpad that would awaken the convicts from a suspended animation condition as they neared the end of the universe. That would allow them to view and experience the end of the universe and what would happen when they passed that boundary, or whatever else might then occur. The awakening was set to take a grangriggle cycle, which was something akin to 7 earth years. That was the plan ever since the launch of the first conpads several millennia ago. Not that it mattered much because even the earliest launched conpads were eons away from the end of the universe.

Sweet Edibles, and High-pitched hum, sorry, Candy and Buzz, after many nargriggles of searching and being subjected to the horrific noise, were figuring out what that noise was all about. It was a sound not heard for at least a millennium. It turned out, the hideous sound was a prisoner escape warning.

They informed the Manager who informed the Chief Warden. There hasn’t been a prisoner in this complex for over a millennium.  The few being installed in the conpads are all in stasis. How can there be an escape? asked the Warden.

The Manager who had no answer, called back to the Warden as he went out the door, I’ll check with Sweet Edibles and High-pitched Hum again. Perhaps they can answer that.

The Warden looked for something to block his ears. Since there was nothing he could fold up or stick in his ears to reduce the sound of the alarm, he took a wrench-like tool and smashed one of the consoles on his desk. He found several capacitor-like thingees he stuffed into his ears. They didn’t fully block the sound, but the Warden felt he could at least have a brief consciousness shut down while waiting for an answer to his question.

Sometime later, the Manager returned to the Chief Warden’s office where he discovered that there was something more disturbing than the escape alarm. It was the Chief Warden’s snoring. Sir, he shouted, I have the answer. You might want to hear it.

After shouting several times and shaking, he detected a growing awareness on the part of the Warden. Huh, who, wha, where? asked the Warden as he negotiated his way to awareness.

It’s conpads, shouted the Manager.

Conpads? Yawned the Warden.

Apparently, back when they first developed the conpads, they embedded the escape protocol into the system.

The Warden was interested, And?’

And it seems two of our conpads have diverted from their course and the end of the universe protocol has been started.

What the hell (The station of lost transit riders) does that mean, Intors?

I don’t know.

So, what do we do Manager Intors?

Why are you asking me? You’re the Chief Warden.

I only accepted the job because of the nice office. I don’t know what to do.

Let’s ask the interns. Maybe they know.

Good thinking Intors, that’s why I made you manager.

You didn’t make me manager. I was here before you.

I thought I made you manager,

No. My uncle, Councilor Zazosofras did.

Are you sure it wasn’t me?

Positive.

Well, what do you know about that, huh, muttered the Chief Warden to himself, Let's go find those Interns.

Well, said Sweet Edibles (Candy), I guess we call the security chief.

Ok, what did you say your name was? Sweet Edibles? Get to it.

The Warden had difficulty containing himself at the swiftness and decisiveness of his decision.

I don't think that's such a good idea Chief Warden, you see my work time here will be over for about seven griggle cycles by the time we get the return message. I think High Pitched Hum (Buzz) should do it. He has twenty-two more griggle cycles before he leaves.

They sent the message to the security chief. It would take at least six griggle cycles for it to get to him. Then he would have to decide what to do, so Candy’s estimate was about right, fourteen griggle cycles before they would hear back from him. 

They could have used the transvovater to the capitol. Someone could be at headquarters in the time it would take to open a portal and walk the short distance along the wormhole. However, that transvovater and the one to secondary command on Plothos were on their regular downtime for maintenance. No one would do the walk to the transvovater at the far end of the complex.  It would take about the same length 0f time as the interspace communication since no one knew how to drive the transitbots. As for the portal to Bestirdud, no one would dare take that one. The air there smelled like decomposing gortriddles (vile smelling stink bugs nearly the size of a Volkswagen beetle only much, much smellier and even more so when decomposing). Even the natives walked around with their sleeves over their noses

Chapter 2:  Greenlight on a Wormhole

W hat the hell happened here captain? shouted Major Kineson. In this case, hell meant the place where condemned souls were sent to suffer untold agony in flames while being poked, prodded and otherwise mistreated by demons.

Major Kineson was not a happy camper. He had devoted six years of his life to bringing the space-time probe online. Six long years spent on the dreariest place of all, the dark side of the moon, waiting for a machine to be built that would allow space travel by foot. Miners could walk to mineral-rich asteroids; tourists could ride an airtight bus to visit the moons of Jupiter or Saturn. Settlers could be homesteading on Mars in hours rather than years.

The Major didn’t care about that. He just wanted to get back to earth and see his wife and his former secretary.  So why didn’t it work? What happened when they started up the machine for its first big test?

What the hell (same as above) was that green flash that the machine had emitted that turned and streaked off on a bias that brought it through the observation platform

AND SOME PERSONNEL residences. Why were Lieutenant Harvey’s face and right index finger glowing a fluorescent green? His eyes were especially malevolent looking.

Ok, Lieutenant, we saw the green flash travel up towards you and hit you in the face before passing through the wall and out towards the personnel compound. So why the index finger, were you picking your nose?

Rubbing the corner of my eye, sir.

It doesn’t seem to be a problem, sir, said the doctor. Although there is no sign that the green glow is fading, he seems to be otherwise healthy. As for the index finger, he must have been picking his nose." 

Rubbing the corner of my eye, doc."

As he walked through the tunnel to the personnel compound, he met a couple of officers on their way to the science floor for a meeting with the anomaly generator team. "Hey, lieutenant looks like you chose the wrong moment to pick your nose, eh?

Rubbing my eye, sir, said Lieutenant Harvey quietly.

As the two walked away, he heard one say, What a time to pick your nose.

Well, you know, said the other, when your nose is on strike, no matter where you are, you gotta pick it."

I was rubbing my eye, yelled Lieutenant Harvey in frustration.

If they heard him, they didn’t respond, except, for what Lieutenant Harvey was certain was a snicker. To avoid Harvey becoming a laughingstock, he was sent back to earth and given a job rebuilding computers after security crews had damaged them looking for national secrets and linked porn sites. He could work in a darkened office using the light from his face to see what he was doing and wearing gloves to avoid all references to nose picking. As far as the military was concerned, Lieutenant Harvey was the only victim of the surprising and anomalous green flash.

The other less apparent results of the inadvertent flash consisted of a green hamster living between the walls of the personnel compound as well as Captain Harry Williams and Second Lieutenant Sheree Winter. Had anybody taken the time to notice, they might have wondered why Second Lieutenant Winter using a lot of stark red lipstick on duty and why Captain Williams was no longer using the public showers in the officers' gymnasium. They might also have noticed how the two no longer spoke to each other as providing oral sex is not considered to be one of the duties of a Second Lieutenant.

Major Kineson was commandeered to spend an extra year with the project, but he did get a one week furlough on earth. Rather than relieving stress, it made it worse as he was unable to decide between his wife and his former secretary and instead spent his time sitting in the park feeding pigeons.

Chapter 3:  Security in Dreamless Sleep

Security Monitor 1 Firoxas stared at the readout uttering something almost under his breath that was the Zigraget equivalent of, Well, well, well... well, well, well.

So what do you think of that, said Security Monitor 1 Glzaxne, two of our conpads have turned off course, and the end of the universe procedure has begun.

Well, replied Security Monitor 1 Firoxas, who really cares? I mean, whoever they are, they are criminals. So, they drift into a stellar object and burn up, or they come awake on some sterile planet and die from an airless or poisonous atmosphere, or they wake up, still journeying to the end of the universe and die of old age. No one is going to miss them.

Security Monitor Firoxas, unfortunately, also realized that the Zigraget peoples did not give death sentences, and this could very well be a death sentence for those two, whoever they were and whenever they were dispatched. But, the fact was, even the worst criminals, including those who spat at the feet of the statue of guligiligasness or ate the forbidden fruit of the Nigelignamish tree would not be put to death. Like every similar criminal, they were banished to the end of the universe. It was not much to look forward to if there even was such a thing. Whoever was on the diverted conpads, they would have to be found and the conpads set to resume their eternal journeys.

"Yeah, well who'll do that? No one in the current three squads is capable of spending much time in stasis and still find