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The Federation of Astronomical Research Territories (FART) was a little know department of the European government. The department’s main tasks were to investigate strange phenomena on planets within the agreements of Terrestrial Overseers Space and Science (TOSS).  Colonel Royston Pilkington Wimblebat or Glass Eye as he was known to his friends had been studying the footage sent on the holocrypter.

Glass Eye pressed the decoder button instantly invoking three 3D video conferencing with ranks, some senior to him. “Gentlemen we have a serious problem, the video you are about to see was obtained from WANK, the TOSS agreement means we will have to investigate further”.  The ten members of the council of FART watched the results of the mind probe on the Zargonians. After the video had finished disconsolation was high among all ranks. “This is horrific, how did this happen?” was the response from one of the delegates. “It can’t be, kebab’s surely not kebabs” said the South Antarctic representative. Finally the imposing voice all had dreaded spoke “it is clear these sheep people need humanitarian help, my husband and I believe you should send a representative to them to assist them in whatever way possible. As you are aware my word is law, so do not try to change the criteria Glass Eye”.

Royston Pilkington Wimblebat hated Queen Cherrie Blair XV, hear the soft approach towards the immigrants from Mars had caused many problems for ARSE and FART now these kebabs munching sheep were to be helped, Jesus had she not seen for herself what they were using for kebab meat. “I understand completely your majesty”. Glass Eye wanted to spit the final words out but restrained himself; now killing off the video conferencing system he had to consider what poor soul he would send, possibly condemning them to death.

He walked into his office and looked through the list of candidates the search system had presented him.  He thought of his wife Meme, had it been a mistake marrying her, it was only after they had been married a short time had he realised the meaning of her strange name. Me, me, me, god what a selfish bitch she was.

Oh how he needed Molly now, her beautiful smooth skin and pouting lips, Molly hadn’t changed in all the years he had known her. The scanning of the search system had highlighted only three candidates, Glass Eye had voiced in specific details linked to the project and the system had now offered only one choice – Herbert Wibblewaite. His record in the space and military academies was excellent and he was fluent in several alien languages. Glass Eye now used the code to see the results of Wibblewaite’s mind probe examination. Sheep had played a prominent part of his life – this was the man for the job. He went to touch the screen that would have brought instant communication with Wibblewaite. “No Royston let the man sleep tonight” but no-one heard him in the empty office.

Glass Eye rubbed his one good eye then taking the other one out polishing it and putting it back in. He was tired but he didn’t want to sleep, no yet; Molly would be waiting for him. He pressed the Comms device on his desk and called Meme, but no answer “Meme, I won’t be home tonight; something has come up, I’ll see you tomorrow”.  “Damn bitch is out shopping again I suppose”.

Now his thoughts switched to Molly. He locked the office door; it had been one of his better ideas to have sleeping quarters installed. There had been times of crisis when he would stay several days before going home, but Molly always helped him through. Standing next to the bed Glass Eye stripped naked “I’m here for you Molly” bending down he pulled the out the large box from under the bed. Now he was becoming sexually aroused as he opened the box taking a small foot pump out and placing it on the floor. Glass Eye had never talked about the accident that had made him lose the sight in one eye.

He remembered how the doctor had warned him about using the Penis growth tablets to excess, how he had ignored those warnings. It had all gone wrong his penis had grown five feet long and during a fitful night’s sleep he had poked his eye in with it and shagged himself silly!!!

But Molly had forgiven him, now as he took her out of the box and placed her on the bed attaching the foot pump to her, all thoughts of Meme disappeared – tonight Royston Pilkington Wimblebat would be happy, tomorrow he would contact Herbert; possibly assigning the man to his death.