Gary was not just any gardener; he was THE gardener for the White House. Day in and day out, he ensured that the lawns were mowed to presidential perfection. Today was a day like any other, sun shining, birds chirping, and Gary was blasting his favorite podcast, “Whacko Theories of the Universe”, through his headphones.

Meanwhile, above the earth, a spaceship from the distant planet Zargon hovered. The Zargonians were humanoid, tall and lanky, with fluorescent green hair that changed hue based on their mood. Their history was written in the star charts: they were once a society obsessed with capitalism until their resources were exploited, and they now thrived as guardians of other galaxies.

Eris, a Zargonian activist and the equivalent of a PETA member on their planet, saw the earth as a beautiful blue bubble teeming with innocent life forms. It was her mission to prevent the RavonCorp, an intergalactic mining company known to decimate planets to create novelty toys, from ruining Earth.

“Let’s talk to the most important person on this planet,” Eris told her crew, mistaking Gary’s prominent position in the lawn as one of authority.

Before anyone could notice, a beam of light descended upon Gary, whisking him into the spaceship.

Inside the ship, Eris and her crew started showing Gary mind-boggling presentations. They showcased the mysteries of black holes, displayed mathematical equations which would push humanity’s understanding millennia forward, and revealed medical breakthroughs. There was even a flashy demo of “Do-it-Yourself Faster-than-Light Spaceships.”

Gary, still in shock, could only nod along, understanding none of it. To him, it looked like one of those PowerPoint presentations that just kept going on. He thought of his lawnmower and the half-mown lawn.

“Earthling, we’ve given you the solutions! Save your planet!” Eris pleaded.

“Uh huh,” was all that Gary managed, still dazed and longing for his lawnmower.

Feeling that they had done their part, the Zargonians returned Gary to his mower. He plopped his headphones back on, looking around to see if anyone had noticed his absence. The tourists were still taking selfies, the squirrels were still chasing each other, and the White House was, well, still white.

Gary shrugged and continued mowing.

That evening, back at his modest apartment, Gary’s roommate, Jeff, excitedly waved a joint. “Want some?”

Gary, recalling the bizarre alien intervention, shook his head. “Nah, man. I think I’m giving up weed.”

The end.