FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE SPACEMONSTER (1965)
When an atomic war on Mars destroys the planet's men, it's up to Martian Princess Meatball and her quintessentially cheesy right-hand man Dr. Fingers to travel to earth and kidnap young seminal virile Earthboyz for new breeding stock. Landing in Kansas, they disguise themselves as all-American highschool teenagers and proceed to raid the local Snake Pit Drive In for fresh orgones every weekend.
After loading up the saucer with a nice supply of cute corn-fed dumb FFA farmboys, Princess Meatball took off for Mars leaving me in charge of hustling the next bunch of Earthboyz for our important Mars Mission to save our poor ravished planet. Here I am putting on my makeup and high heels for my scintillating Saturday night soiree search for Drive-In succulent Kansas farmboy sex:
Ask any touring ET or cruising alien—and they’ll tell you the same thing. Earthboyz are easy—and they can be easily had. Using my X-ray Martian goggles and invisible ray-gun tongue—it was easy to cruise all the cars in the Snake Pit Drive-In parking lot every Friday and Saturday night.
My Martian telepathic brain tentacles could reach into every dumpy Ford sedan and beat-up Chevy pickup—and sample the exquisitely nasty terrestrial sex activity going on. The more steamy the windshield the more I was drawn to the lascivious teenage libidinal ooziness and comeliness going on inside there.
Then using my Martian invisibility nightgown and slinky Saturnine gloves, I’d zero in on whatever young engorged Monster of The Black Lagoon was lurking there behind closed locked doors. I had to be quick though—those Earth girls were just as greedy as I was for the Action.
Sometime I had to uncork those naughty demanding girlfriend Lips with a big Skanky POP!!!—just in time to guzzle all the Young male adolescent Goop that lobbed and gushed spasmodically with that incredible Naked Ape force and energy that we Martians craved and needed so very desperately to continue our ancient Red Planet Mars civilization!
Little did that innocent little Red State Bible Belt Republican Bread Basket Midwestern State of Kansas know—that the Snake Pit Drive-In west of Cowtown was the vortex of much more than just ho-hum Hollywood Sexploitation Double Feature movies every weekend out there under the cold uncaring aloof prairie stars.
Princess Meatball and I had surveyed the Planet Earth and determined that there in the austere stoic resigned religiously suppressed conservative Midwest was where the secret Erogenous Zone of the Universe was hidden from ogling intergalactic Vandals of the Void.
And our snarling snarky Solar System had a lot of nefarious interstellar space scum floating around out there—from the dirty Asteroid Belt Gang Bangers to the Slimy Rats of Saturn’s Rings to the Uranian Ziggurat Zit Queens!!!
It’s amazing that the small colony of Naked Apeboyz on the Planet Earth could have gone unnoticed and undetected for so long. Probably because the Van Allen Belt tightly cinched around the waist of the young boyish bulging bluejeans of that Blue Marble World kept the orgone energy field wrapped up inside a coy cocoon of Teenage Solitude and mysterious erotic Intelligent Design…
Yes, surely only some mysterious sort of Intelligent Design—could have dreamed up such a lovely piece of Bomba Boy primitive yet streamlined jizzy Jurassic male beauty.
Even our brilliant Martian scientists and ingenious exo-genealogists couldn’t unravel or back-engineer it—the sleek shocking Abercrombie & Fitch Stylish Earthboy Fashion Statement that ruled the glutted copious obscene Milky Way from one end of the galaxy to the other.
Missing time was the usual complaint—but then that was usually shrugged off as normal Drive In hormonal six-pack behavior to be expected. Hollywood sexploitation flicks did in a whole generation of baby boomers—but little did anybody know that Mars really did need men badly and that young manly Midwestern males did the trick very nicely…
For every Snake Pit Drive-In monster movie weekend—there was at least one or two overnight abductions of jocks or farmboyz to replenish our desperately depleted Martian gene pool...