[ WP ] 47 years ago an alien disguised as a human was forgotten on Earth . Not ever being quite able to learn the human languages , it sort of spewed out random vocals in an attempt to imitate us and fit in . He unknowingly became the President of the US and is now unknowingly giving a speech .

Sizz'ag'aar could feel his swim bladder pulsing with agitation at the oppressively warming, blindingly bright emissions of the lights in front of him. It was never a pleasant sensation, but he had become used to it with the passage of time and, he supposed, been conditioned to `` perform'' for the humans when they presented him with the lights. 
 
 He was still puzzled by the lights. For the last several orbits of this world around it's host star, the humans had insisted on shining them upon him, practically every time he went anywhere and attempted to replicate their speech sounds. Back on the homeworld, bright light was an indicator of a deadly solar eruption, a distressingly common occurrence on Klethoom. Here, though, there was no such negative connotation to the lights. The very first time he had thought it was a hostile gesture, that he had been discovered and that they were going to incinerate him. But it had not been long before he realized that this was just another barbaric practice the humans inflicted upon one another. Certainly not all of the humans merited having the lights shined down on them, but many humans, especially those deemed important, seemed to have to endure it. He took it as an indicator of his skill as an impostor that he seemed to have worked his way into a position where the humans saw him as light-worthy, though he was rather unhappy with the frequency with which they insisted he be illuminated. 
 
 The human standing under the text-screen, next to the large black lens-box, gestured at him in sequence with his human digits - first all five of the ugly, unwebbed fingers, then four, than three, until there were no fingers left. This was one of many unspoken indicators he had picked up during his many orbits living amongst this world's natives, and he knew it was time for him to begin imitating the humans' speech sounds. 
 
 `` I want to thank you all for coming today. I particularly want to thank our Secretary of Education for traveling with me...'' 
 
 If he had been asked by a fellow Klethoomian, Sizz'ag'aar would have freely admitted he had never had much of a talent for xeno-linguistics - especially with a species whose speech anatomy was a foreign as these humans'. Despite having spent the majority of his adult lifespan on this arid, thin atmosphered rock, he had never fully picked up any of the various human dialects here. He did consider himself a talented mimic, however, and that was how he had survived those first few terrifying years here. Repeating back the alien phonemes to those humans who confronted him with their speech, occasionally shaking his head up and down or to the side at random whenever simple repetition did n't appear to suffice. 
 
 The humans were smacking their hands against each other now, something that seemed to happen a lot whenever he spoke, perhaps more frequently even then the lights being shined upon him. He waited for them to finish their inexplicable rituals before resuming his oratory. 
 
 `` I want to thank the mothers and dads who are here. Thank you for coming. You, too, are teachers. The best education starts at home, by loving your children with all your heart and all your soul. I want to thank the students who are here. Thanks for letting me come by and visit with you...'' 
 
 Through trial and error, he had learned how to recombine excerpts of human speech in ways that the humans found more convincing. In the beginning, there had been much confusion, but he could usually play things off by emitting the bark-like laughter the humans so frequently emitted. Sizz'ag'aar supposed the humans did n't take him for a very *coherent* human, but the fact that he was able to pass for a human at all was victory enough in his book. It was n't a terribly fulfilling existence, he supposed, always being babbled at and led around with no comprehension of what was going on, but he was surviving on a hostile alien planet far from home, and that was what really mattered. 
 
 He bared his teeth. That was perhaps one of the most important parts of pretending to be one of these humans. Frequently baring one's teeth. 
 
 `` But most of all, I want to thank you all for giving me a chance to come and share some thoughts. It is very important for our youngsters to understand history, the history of our country, the ideals that make our country strong. This morning at the Rose Garden I kicked off a national initiative, and I'm going to describe some of what we're going to do to make sure that we teach more history to our children...'' 
 
 It had been many, many orbits before he had cracked the code of the human glyphs. They were n't intuitive, conveying only primitive phonetic information rather than abstract concepts, but at least he could finally recite the matching sounds for each combination of signs. It was an invaluable skill to have acquired, as now the humans would present him with sounds he need to recite, even if he did n't understand the meaning of any of it. 
 
 `` Our children are growing up in a difficult time for America, because they see on their TV screens the fact that America is now a battlefield. When we were kids, a lot of us were kids, growing up, oceans separated us from danger. We were confident in our ability to resist evil because evil could never make it to our shore, unless it was created internally. But now we've entered a new period where we're vulnerable. It's tough for our children to comprehend that, I know. 
 
 But you've got to understand why we're vulnerable, and that is because there are people in the world that hate the fact that we love freedom. People can not stand the fact that your great nation not only allows, but encourages people to worship an almighty God in any way they want to. We welcome that in America...'' 
 
 The humans burst into their spastic hand smacking again. Not for the first time he wondered at the significance of the gibberish he was spouting, whether any of it was of significant import... He found it difficult to view the humans as equals, but in his own way he cared for them, and wished that he could converse with them. He had long given up hope of being rediscovered by a Klethoom. This world's primitive bipeds had nothing of value to offer his people, and the world itself was unpleasantly dry and thin of atmosphere. His people would send no follow-up expedition. This world which he had been abandoned upon was his only home, and these aliens... they were his only companionship. 
 
 `` You've got to understand there are some in this world that simply do not adhere to the ideals we believe in...'' 
 
 He thought of the first human he had ever met, the human whose outward form he now wore. It had been dead, smashed up against one of this planet's towering, woody flora in a primitive four-wheel-locomotive device. He knew nothing of this human's life or death, only that in tasting his genetic material for the camouflaging process, its blood had contained an unusually high proportion of ethyl alcohol. At first he had thought it was just a curious part of their alien biochemistry, but over the orbits had since realized that ethyl alcohol was as toxic to the humans as to Klethoomians. 
 
 For the most part, Sizz'ag'aar did n't like dwelling on negative emotions. But he could n't help feeling a deep-seated sense of loneliness, every bit as oppressive as the bright light the humans placed upon him. This human whose form he had assumed... he had chanced upon him, treating him as a convenient disguise to assume while awaiting rescue from Klethoom. He had never expected to encounter the alien's family... to be embraced by them, and spoken to by them, and loved by them. 
 
 `` There's a lot of talk about Iraq on our TV screens, and there should be, because we're trying to figure out how best to make the world a peaceful place.'' 
 
 He was not their kin, and short of molting this disguise, he had no way of even conveying that to them. He fervently wished, if there was just *one* human he could converse meaningfully with, it was this disguise's forebear. They had spoken many times before, of course, but never with any comprehension on Sizz'ag'aar's part. Parents did not maintain such extended contact with their offspring on Klethoom, but this was one practice which he thought these humans perhaps had gotten right. He was certain there was much wisdom he could learn from this body's genetic sire; from what he gathered, that one had spent much time speaking under the lights as well. 
 
 Sizz'ag'aar felt his eyes, his true, Klethoomian eyes, watering under his disguise. Nictitating membranes blinked shut and then open, and his vision was cloudy, making it hard for him to read the humans' text screen. That was always problematic, as it mean he had to improvise until he was able to return to the human-written script - the latter of course held no more meaning to him than the former, but he suspected that no matter how subtle the distinction was, the humans were able to pick up on it. 
 
 `` There's an old saying in Tennessee -- I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee -- that says, fool me once, shame on -- shame on you. Fool me -- you ca n't get fooled again.'' 
 
 Eh, close enough.
