(A space alien speaks directly to the audience. She’s green. Very green. She’s pretending to be the leader of an alien invasion fleet; in fact, she’s merely the cleaning lady on the ship.)

ZIRA: You earthlings! You’re all the same, you know that? When you think of space aliens, all you can think of is little green men.

Little green MEN!

Now, look at me and tell me what’s wrong with that picture? Hmmm?

What about all the little green WOMEN?!

I never hear anything about the little green women! Now why is that, I wonder? Hmm?

I’ll have you know it’s the little green women who have made outer space what it is today! And we are here to claim our rightful place in the universe!

I am the Admiral Zira and I’ll have you know there’s a fleet of warships from the Zoolian Intergalactic Empire in orbit above your benighted little planet. We have been monitoring your broadcast transmissions for some time now and here is what we have concluded: You people are a bunch of hopeless primitives!

All you can do is talk about war and sports and what’s this thing called (insert name of recent trend or fad), anyway?

Now why is that, I wonder? Hmm, let’s take a look at your leaders: Bush, Blair, Putin, Chirac, this bin-Laden fellow. They all have one thing in common. You know what that is? They’re men! There’s your problem right there. I can’t believe you people are still locked into a male-dominated society. No wonder you’re scarcely above the level of savages!

Personally, I can’t even believe we’re wasting our time with your so-called civilization, but, orders are orders, and we do like to keep the Empress Zircon happy. That’s right. The Empress. You catch my drift?

(Zona enters, and watches Zira’s rant. Zona is also green, but might be wearing an apron or some other article to suggest her status as a domestic worker.)

Here in the Zoolian empire, it’s the women who are in charge. We are the engineers, the architects, the scientists, the explorers, the rulers! The only thing men are good for is brute force labor and thanks to all this wonderful technololgy created by Zoolian women, there’s not much of that we even need anymore.

ZONA: Zira, what are you doing?

(Zira is embarrassed. From a pocket, or somewhere, she produces a dust rag and starts to use it.)

ZIRA: Oh, hi Zona, um, I was, uh, just, uh, you know, cleaning. There’s a lot of, um, dust floating around in the air on this deck of the ship.

ZONA:You weren’t playing with the communications console again were you, Zira?

ZIRA: Well, um, maybe a little.

ZONA: You know what Captain Zog said would happen if he caught you playing with the communications console again. It’s just a good thing the Emperor didn’t hear about that!

ZIRA: It’s off! Honest! See! I was just dusting!

ZONA: Come on, we don’t have time for this foolishness. Captain Zog wants dinner served for all the officers at 1800 hours and you know what he’s like when he’s hungry.

ZIRA: Yeah, I know.

ZONA: So hurry up cleaning in there. We’ve still got all the dishes from lunch to wash and then we’ve got to muck out the toilets on deck five – and don’t forget all the laundry. Captain Zog wants his dress uniform pressed before his big address to the earthlings tomorrow. So let’s get a move on, Zira. We don’t have all day.

ZIRA (dejectedly): OK.

(Optional action and line: Zona starts toward the exit, then pauses.)

ZONA: You know, I heard the Emperor plans to make him an admiral if this earth project goes well. (End optional line and action.)

(Zona exits. Zira remains, dejected. She resumes dusting. Lights fade out.)

--------------- THE END ---------------------

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Two women, both alien cleaning ladies aboard a spaceship — Zira and Zona.