It was a Tuesday, and everything in Tom Cruise’s life was awesome. He had $1B sunglasses, was the tallest most hetrosexual bachelor in Hollywood, and Suri’s playhouse had a mailbox that was worth more than most towns in Minnesota. Oh yes, and aliens were attacking. Aliens from space.
“Go faster, John Travolta!” He said. John slammed the gas pedal to the floor.
“Vroom vroom!” Spake his Ford Prius as it shot like a mighty, salmon-colored bolt of lightning-coated gunpowder down San Francisco’s mysteriously empty roads.
“Head for the Golden Gate!” Tom cried, firing his twin Desert Eagles at the alien ships that loomed over the city like enormous, technological, looming things. His gun’s names were Katie and Nicole, and he held them sideways in each hand, firing one after the other like a true gangsta G money boss. The wind sung through his perfect hair, and he looked very tall and rich in his designer sunglasses. “It’ll be up to let the sailboats past! We’ll jump it!”
“But it’s a suspension bridge, Tom!” John cried. “It won’t go up! NEVER!”
Tom sighed angrily. Grabbing control of the wheel, Tom jerked John’s Ford Prius towards the bridge’s enormous suspension cables. There was a thwump as the tires gripped the braided steel wire, and they wildly spun round and round the cable.
“Yee-HAW!” Tom cried as he shifted the Prius into overdrive. The car’s engine roared like a dragon that just found out it was adopted, oil smoldered, rubber smoked and bubbled, and the Prius careened up the cable at over a million miles per hour. Time slowed, and for a while, they became their own grandparents. Suddenly, they reached the top of the bridge and launched off the cable and into low orbit.
“Omigod!” John Travolta cried. “It’s the flagship! It’s black and spikey like Justin Beiber’s hair! Only black!”
They parallel parked on the ship as Tom Cruise continued firing his Desert Eagles like a boss. Then they broke out and crashed through a hatch.
“Haw haw haw!” Bellowed a mysterious voice. It came from a figure with big, bug-like eyes, a dome-shaped head, and a gold cape like Bella Lugosi! It also had moon boots and a belt buckle.
“Xenu!” Tom Cruise cried. “How did I know this alien force would be led by the one man who is nearly as tall and fabulously powerful as I?”
“It’s not only me!” Xenu bellowed. And so it wasn’t. Tom saw that he was immediately surrounded by an old man in a beard and a sweater.
“Sigmund Freud!” Tom gasped. “The father of psychology!”
The old man laughed.
“How could you do it, Siggy?” Tom asked. “All Scientology wanted to do was free earthlings from their Thetans! All we asked was a three billion year contract and a donation of several hundred thousand dollars! Then you came about beforehand and wrecked it all with your psychology!”
“And me too!” Said a guy with a nose.
“Who the heck are you?” Tom asked.
“Joe Psychiatry. The guy who invented psychiatry!”
“You’re bad too!”
“This is the end of you, Tom Cruise!” cried Xenu. “From here on out, people will not believe in the invisible space people I blew up in a volcano five billion years ago! Guided by my false ‘sciences,’ they’ll blame their problems on fake things, like the death of their spouse, and horrible childhood experiences! And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”
“I’ll stop you!” Cried Tom Cruise.
“What are you going to do?” Xenu asked. His laughter filled the chamber. “There’s two of you and three of us!”
“Then I’ll even the score!” Said a voice!
“Michael Bay!” Everyone cried.
“And with the help of Michael Bay I’ll transform into -- a giant metal tank-man!” And so Mecha Cruise charged in and dealt Xenu a mighty blow that sent him careening across the room.
Xenu picked himself up, dusted himself off, drank a Red Bull, and clapped his broad hands loudly.
“Why are you clapping?”
“You fool-- the moment you set foot on this spaceship I set it to self destruct in five minutes! We’ll take you down with us!”
“Yeah? Well, no sacrifice is too great to stop you! I would expend every last drop of blood to see you dead and gone! That’s why John Travolta will transform into a super megaton bomb!”
“What??” Said John Travolta as his skin turned into metal and radioactive bits.
"And blow you all up!"
"Aieee!" John Travolta cried, emitting a bright green glow. It was terribly painful.
“We’ll remember you, John Travolta!” Tom cried, picking up Michael Bay in his arms and forcing open an airlock. “We’ll remember you as we plummet safely to earth! Farewell, my sweet knight! Goodbye, my prince!”
And so, with the spaceship a radiant and radioactive ball in the background , Mecha Tom Cruise and Michael Bay free-fell through the stratosphere to the safety of the earth below them. Tom’s glasses looked just awesome as they landed in Charlie Sheen’s hottub among many beautiful women.
