Point: Early detection is the best way

By Predator

Daily Arts Writer

There is a deep evil facing middle-aged intergalactic bounty hunters, one that hides in the in the dark recesses of unexplored galaxies: colon cancer. I kid you not assassins, demon-spawn and space parasites.

But unlike the tentacled monstrosities that crawl into your escape hatches, there is a simple and mostly painless way to combat this silent behemoth.

It’s true: All intergalactic beings 50 years of age and old should start getting yearly checks with their space doctors.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Predator, colon checkups are uncomfortable. They’re borderline disgraceful, and I think my doctor enjoys them a little too much.”

And as a totally normal and healthy male bounty hunter, I sympathize with your concerns, but believe me when I say that an annual dose of humility is not only good for the soul, but will help us combat the single greatest threat to space warfare since Will Rogers.

 

Counterpoint: There’s no way you’re sticking that in my ass

By Alien

Daily Arts Writer

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the risks of a diet high in fatty foods, human chest cavities and chocolate. I also know there is no way in hell that chunk of plastic is getting anywhere near this alien’s ass.

Harp on all you want about early detection and what not, but my intergalactic colon is going unexplored, thanks.

I stay in shape, I chase after bloodied, screaming humans, I do my sit-ups and stretches in the heating vents of Mining Colony ZX35W, and I always get some vegetables to go along with the usual dinner of torn open human lungs.

My family has no history of colon problems. All 5,347 of my brothers are in fine shape, colon cancer and space marines be damned. Why go through some unneeded medical procedure when I feel fine? Our president said that all these wasteful medical procedures drive up the cost of insurance. Or something like that.

Most importantly, it’s a complete violation of my privacy. Dropping trou has never given me pause; I even comply when asked for a urine sample (though my acidic discharge ususally melts the cup and spills on to the floor).

I draw the line at having a foreign object wielded by some foolish nurse violating the tender confines of my rear. That’s an exit hole only, buddy.

All of this nonsense is just good ol’ Predator paranoia. Stop asking about our bottoms, and start helping us eat humans.

You claim this rectal invasion is a preventative measure and expect us to simply spread our nether cheeks every year.

What are we trying to prevent, our asses from ever enjoying a moment of peace again?

Listen Predator, it’s totally your business if you want some stranger shoving a metal rod into your lower intestine. Different strokes for different xenomorphic space monsters.

I know you like all that rough stuff anyway.

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