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The aliens beamed aboard every nation's head of state: kings, queens, presidents, prime ministers and chairpersons.
None of the invited heads around the alien conference table spoke.
"What is wrong with them," a confused alien asked?
The world below was in shock, palaces and parliaments coping with headless leaders.

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Hunger twists and curls, smooth eucalyptus desires replaced with saltier yearnings.
Confusing circles move below, patterns that bewilder and blind.
Then the harsh syllables of prey.
"No I won't buy a Drop-Bear-O-Matic protective hat. I may have just landed but I'm no rube!".
Triumphantly anticipating satiation.

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