by, INDIGO HAPHAZASTANCE Alternate Reality News Service Transdimensional Traffic Writer
They breezed through Earth's defences like so much cottage cheese moving through a dieter's system. Europe (the oesophagus) fell in a day. Beijing (the liver) fell in three days. Washington (the lower intestines) fell in a week. Just as it appeared that they could not be stopped from taking over the Earth, the Psychlos arrived in Urbana, Illinois, and heard city clerk Fred Streave-Griebling utter those five fateful words: "May I see your licence?"
Some accounts of the story refer to the fateful phrase as, "May I please see your licence?" (six words). Other, more aggressive accounts, claim that the fateful phrase was, "I'm sorry, but I will need to see your licence" (10 words). And, of course, there is Bruce Willis, who played Streave-Griebling in Forgotten Trees, the Hollywood version of the invasion, who uttered the fateful line, "May I ferking see your ferking licence, motherferker?" (8 rather naughty words).
The exact wording is lost to time, but nobody disputes the fact that the sentence was fateful.
Streave-Griebling was referring to an 1872 Urbana law that made it illegal to have "exhibitions of freaks of nature or monsters" within the city limits without first receiving a licence from the city clerk. He argued that the 9 foot tall, 1,000 pound and, most terrifying of all, dreadlocked alien Psychlos fell within the definition of the word "monsters" and would, therefore, need a permit to go on a rampage on city streets.
At first, the Psychlos argued that, since they came from another dimension, Urbana didn't have jurisdiction over their behaviour. It took several days, but Streave-Griebling finally found legal scholar Jonathan Turley toiling away in a gold mine. Turley explained that, while the definition of "alien" ordinarily referred to somebody from another country, it wasn't that much of a stretch to apply the term to somebody from another planet, or, indeed, another dimension; it was his opinion that this would be the conclusion of the very conservative Roberts Supreme Court (assuming any of them were still alive). Therefore, Urbana law applied to the alien beings.
The Psychlos reluctantly accepted this legal opinion. This left them no alternative but to ask for a licence to enter the city. As he had so many times before under less dire conditions (except, perhaps, for the time Lady Gaga came to town), Streave-Griebling asked for some identification.
This enraged the Psychlos; after all, you don't usually need a driver's licence to invade a planet in another universe. Their battle uniforms didn't even have pockets! However, Streave-Griebling was adamant on this point: he could not issue them a licence until he had seen proper ID. After a brief conference, the Psychlo leaders decided to send a request for their birth certificates back to their home planet. These arrived in three days; however, because they were not in English, they were of little use, and it took another day and a half for them to be translated.
In what many see as his masterstroke, after the IDs were finally accepted Streave-Griebling told the Psychlo leaders that he would process their documents and issue them licences...in about three weeks. Despite their protests, the city clerk insisted that fairness required that they wait in the queue while those who had applied for the licences before them had their applications processed. When the Psychlos asked to be given the names of the human beings who were ahead of them in the queue (likely to kill them in order to expedite their licence request), Streave-Griebling refused, claiming that that would be a breach of privacy laws.
When one of the frustrated aliens asked him what they were supposed to do in the meantime, Streave-Griebling told it that the area surrounding Urbana had many fine hotels and restaurants, and he would be happy to connect them to a representative of the Greater Urbana Chamber of Commerce who would be delighted to discuss their entertainment options with them.
Of course, long before the paperwork for their permits was completed, Earth had time to rally its defences, and the Psychlos were driven from the planet.
Fred Streave-Griebling would be the first to admit that he was an unlikely hero. A short, balding, middle-aged man, he put the non back in nondescript. He had so little imagination that many in the Urbana government said his office was where original thoughts go to die. But, in the end, heroism is about using the skills you have to do what you can under the circumstances in which you find yourself, and Streave-Griebling's lack of imagination and single-minded application of rules was exactly what were needed to avert Armageddon.
After saving humanity, Streave-Griebling could have had anything he wanted. Fame. Fortune. Women. Men. Women pretending to be men. Men pretending to be...other men. The complete boxed set of Heroes signed by the entire cast (except, for reasons that we may never know, for Adrian Pasdar). Anything.
Unfortunately, on his way to the limousine that was to take him to the airport where he was to get on the plane that would take him to Washington, DC where he was to meet with the President of the United States, he slipped on a banana peel on the sidewalk, truly the most melancholy act of cheap physical humour. Streave-Griebling hit his head on the pavement and, despite the best efforts of doctors, has been in a coma ever since.
As we celebrate the 20th anniversary of Fred Streave-Griebling's heroic act, we can only hope that, one day, science will find a way to revive him so that he may enjoy the rewards he so richly deserves. Especially the women pretending to be men.