I was born with it, I grew up amidst it, I knew nothing else but it, and then one day they wanted it back! One day they demanded it back. The glory, that is – the wonderful, luxuriant, all-pervading glory. I knew nothing else, you see, and so I took it for granted. I didn’t know the other world, which is the world of abuse, contempt and mockery. What happened to the splendid glory that I took as my birthright? I ask, was it just a dream? Am I here at all? Some people fear the aliens whilst others worship them. They beg to be taken from this place of suffering to the aliens’ Home World, which some call Mondas-6. Others call it Tralfamador. It’s like a religion to them you see – you can’t talk them out of it, you simply can’t tell them otherwise. Maybe I wasn’t born with it though – maybe that’s just another false memory. So much in this world is false, isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder if there is anything true in it at all. Is there anything true in this wretched old world of ours? you want to know, or are we just flogging a dead horse? I cannot escape my immaturity no matter what I do – I was always renowned for being a fool and I have in recent years excelled myself. Look at that bloody knobhead, folks say, as they see me coming down the street, did you ever see such a total plonker? In my own mind I’m a hero though, and that’s all that really matters at the end of the day. I was born with it, I grew up with it, it was both the making of me and my ignominious downfall – what is it? It’s a guessing game you see – people have to try and guess what I’m talking about. Not that they do, of course; for the most part they don’t. For the most part they can’t be bothered. They walk on by, looks of pity and disdain written all over their faces. Their faces are so brutal, so judgmental, so irredeemably ignorant… They sneer at me as they walk past me in their finery, not realising that I am one of humanity’s ancient heroes, returned from my long, long sleep under the mountain to watch over them and guard them against an evil which they neither have the wit nor the imagination to fear. Fear the Great Enemy, I tell them, fear the Terrible Enemy who is to come! He gathers his forces even as we speak. Fear the one they call  The Taker for he will take you for everything you’ve got. He will take you to the cleaners. They pay me no heed however and I am filled with huge sorrow for them. They are just too stupid to be saved, I realise – they are both too stupid and too proud. They are walking en masse towards their doom and the problem is that you just can’t tell them. You can’t tell them a damn thing…