The Madewell Museum of Human Curiosities, Year 2143

Welcome to the Madewell Museum of Human Curiosities. I am your tour guide, Jornts. If you are descendant from human, please step through this scanner to cleanse your sub-level hybrid body of its hazardous germs. If you are an alien, here is a complimentary Leopold Scone, made from the blood of a Leopold serpent and the essence of DW-40. Slurp it up with your fifty tongues. We won’t watch.

Today on our tour we will be looking at selections from the Madewell store, a pre-Alien Revolution establishment that sold clothing to young human women, and whose name appears as the 428th lie in the book of Lies Humans Told, as dictated by Chancellor Largpf in the year 2015. Program your mind-wiring to tune into track number one of the audio guide, where you’ll hear Largpf explain.


Human-alien hybrids, at the sound of the Chancellor’s voice, please partake in your customary reverent chanting ceremony. Aliens, here is a cup of tarragon juice, infused with the mildest hints of industrially melted tar and copper. We have it brewed special at the Guy Fieri School of Culinary Arts Prison — this batch is made by the prison ward himself. He sends his regards.

Now if you’ll all follow me in a single-file line like you were taught at MURP, let us enter the Chancellor Largpf Room of Totally Unprecious Artifacts.


Human women may have been very daft, and were consumed by proliferating a species of ill-informed and unintelligent lower beings, but they did not lack in leisure activities. This tube was a source of entertainment for the women, as they’d stare at it ad infinitum until their cerebral cortexes where pumped with flashes of joy. They then processed this joy into hate, which served as fuel for their daily lives like the methane that our fighter crafts run on.


When a human woman would don this flat plastic white square below her birthing apparatus, she would emit a stream of blood, leaving a mythical white dot pattern that has confounded alien scientists for years. It is said to be the female version of ancient Hieroglyphics. The 33rd wife of Chancellor Largpf once suggested that this item wasn’t what he thought it was, and she was sent to the DIY Room. For the uninitiated, the DIY Room is where the Chancellor keeps a stockpile of one of each weapon ever constructed by man, and gives the criminal the option to pick how they’d like to be put to death. Shimolina reportedly escaped and lives among The Unnowhere, on the fringes of Earth, with the Sad People.


A rare find on an archaeological dig in 2119, this cast of a human vagina is perfectly — almost eerily — preserved, except for one detail: it is missing its standard 26 rows of piranha-sharp teeth.


Snickers were a popular sugary bar of plasticine that caused the weak species to grow fat bellies and round ankles after overconsumption in the moments before the Alien Death Strike of late 2014. Not to be troubled with carrying around only one Snickers at a time, humans tucked several in these cases, sharing them with friends and children, eating sometimes up to 13 or 14 a day.


It didn’t take long for our higher scientists to identify rodents as superiorly intelligent to humans, but this wasn’t always the way. Women would clasp these gold shackles around the neck of rodents until they suffocated and died, proving women’s internally brewing evil. Consequently, in our society, it is mice who are the boss of women.


No historian in the Largpf School of Studying Pre-Largpf History can determine what this item is. Perhaps art? Or a candy item for chicken?


After the fall of humanity in late 2015, a species of women known as “bedbots” attempted to fight back against the already successful Alien Revolution, claming that they didn’t try sooner because they’d “just woken up.” Chancellor Largpf apprehended every bedbot and jailed them in one singular room, providing only Haribo Gummy Eggs and a platoon of subdued cats until he could decide what to do with them. They still exist today, and can be seen at our affiliate museum, The Institute of Human Women Who Survived.


We still use this item today, actually. It works wonders if you’re in need of a good hide.

Thank you for joining me on our tour. Human-alien hybrids, please exit through the door to your right, where you’ll be transported back to your misery at the hands of your 86-month MFA program with no guarantee of a book deal. Aliens, might you join me for an aperitif of coagulated pepper sandwiches and a barrel of fermented penis mead?

Dayna Evans is a writer. Find her on Twitter here.