What has come to be known as The Creetcha appeared for the first time in January of 20XY. What could be seen of it resembled a pink, somewhat cute blob, and its sole means of communication, curiously enough, happened be the frequency overlapping with that of RTL2 (and even that solely between 2.00AM-3.45AM GMT). Although The Creetcha's English was atrocious, what has come to be known as The Manifesto seemed coherent enough and the gist of it was as follows: The Creetcha is so disappointed with the utter stupidity and evil ways of human beings that they have been provisionally deemed as not deserving to exist anymore (that being solely The Creetcha's opinion, obviously). They have 1 (one) year to radically alter their nasty ways, or else Earth is going to be the next stop of what has come to be known as Scrubba, which will arrive to 'rectify' (the lack of object after many transitive verbs is only one of the many linguistic idiosyncrasies in The Manifesto). The aforementioned rectification's exact nature seems to boil down to torturing every single living person in hundreds of ways so cruel that people cannot even start to imagine them (which in itself might be said to constitute a feat of imagination). Three months later, in mid-April 20XY, a video feed was broadcast: Scrubba proves to be a cute fish-eyed plush toy with claws "so hart, they tear thru ze tissuu-y ones like thru a wet paypa bag". It also seems to sport what seems to be an industrial-grade welder supported by a number of appendages of somewhat menacing mechanical nature. The spotlight is on Scrubba 'rectifying' some stubborn alien creature on a planet identified in the feed as 'Foppo'. The feed's quality leaves a lot to be desired and as a matter of fact it proudly sports many artifacts of the early VHS. However, ze Zkreeems! of the unfortunate creature strapped to what looks like a properly lit operating table leave little room for misinterpretation. Humanity has to willingly submit itself to a thorough moral cleansing or face the music. To say that few people take the threat seriously would be an understatement; suffice it to say that The Creetcha's warning goes unheeded. Some think it's a badly staged hoax of some disillusioned intellectuals of the right-wing proclivities. Some think it's a pilot for a new MTV2 docudrama (RTL doesn't shy from playing commercials throughout). Some don't think anything, as usual. The messages stop appearing, a year passes and the world doesn't change: in 20XY+1 it is pretty much the same as always — if not (slightly) worse.

Then, somewhat unexpectedly and without much fanfare, Scrubba does appear on Earth and begins to 'rectify'. Though Scrubba may seem cute and small and rather unassuming (with a silly name to boot), it is invincible (it actually sports a placard with the word: INVENCIBYL! [original spelling] on the foreheadish part of its small, round head). The Creetcha explains that Scrubba owes this particular attribute to being "anchored in twenty-nine dimensions, and out of those in six somewhat flexibly". It may be due to this multidimensional presence that Scrubba is also able to be in many places at the same time, and to perform up to a phenomenal 553 000 simultaneous 'rectifications' at any given time (the fact that Scrubba also apparently doesn't sleep helps boost the number more than slightly). Humanity, in equal measure terrified and confused by the enormity of what is happening (the absurdity, the sheer absurdity — and let's not forget about ze Zkreems!) and mightily afraid of the somewhat invasive and inquisitive nature of Scrubba's stainless steel appendages, reluctantly turns to the only seemingly available option: suicide. The lemming-like waves of fear-crazed human animals are in for a nasty surprise, though: The Creetcha has obviously had extensive experience in terms of the reaction of lesser beings to the imminent administration of punishment, thus, prior to its commencement, it disables the planet's inhabitants' ability to die: according to The Creetcha (who at the end of the day proves to be a bit of an incorrigible chatterbox), it is achieved through a somewhat banal manipulation of a single parameter in the 13th dimension. Thus: nobody dies, but all suffer — as much due to the more than unpleasant contact with Scrubba's unrelenting machinery as the unsuccessful jumps from skyscrapers, failed drownings, non-lethal lethal gunshots.

As the whole planet (ze Zkreems! ze Zkreeems!) writhes in collective anguish (non-metaphorically, for a change), some clever soul decides to approach The Creetcha with a humble request: could The Mighty Creetcha in its infinite wisdom be perhaps persuaded to re-enable the mankind's ability to perish? The Creetcha is saddened to reply that the request is not about to be fulfilled anytime soon — the humanity's sins have been qualified as Nu+99! (The 'Nu' bit referring to a persistent lack of repentance); hence, what has come to be known as The Anguishy Phase may end no sooner than after "Three Unending Eternities" (this somewhat misleading moniker actually denotes approx. 388.06 million years). However, and here The Creetcha ponders for a bit, for The Anguishy Phase not to be devoid of a certain important corrective dimension, a death of a human animal is going to be re-enabled on one condition: if two human animals ?OVE each otha (but 'for realz', The Creetcha hastens to add), the joint suicide of 2 (two) ?OVERZ might be possible (and actually advisable, should the doves in question not be eager to get intimately acquainted with Scrubba's wicked sense of humour, to say nothing of its welder).

This supposedly good news to mankind proves purely theoretical. People still can't die, and each following suicide only damages the already badly ruined bodies of the UN?OVIN' human animals. It quickly turns out few human animals ?OVED each other 'for realz' (incredibly enough, that also seems to apply to marriages!). The masses eye the few dead bodies they stumble upon (a rarity, for a change) with glaring envy. How did they do it? And why the fuck can't we? Meanwhile, Scrubba goes through the soft bodies of the funny, funny human animals with a disinterested zest of a meticulous, if slightly bored, xenobiologist, and the pain-crazed ones (ze Zkreeems!), if they want to die (and at that stage they most assuredly do) have to fast-track their way to the ability to ?OVE.

The agony actually ends only after 251 034 years, when the final human animal is forcibly discorporated (having first been thoroughly introduced to the ways of ?OVE), and the planet, now empty and so blissfully silent, breathes a sigh of relief. So do The Creetcha and Scrubba, actually. The persistent vacuity of this one was starting to get on their nerves.