A humorous and silly take on what would happen if an Alien made its way into the Labyrinth. Thanks much for the comments so far! Alien and Labyrinth characters are not owned by me, I just borrow (and name) some of them.

AvL

"Your Highness! Your Highness! It's Co-omfff…" Borax tripped over another goblin's tail and fell onto the floor. "…ming."

A stubby-legged goblin in worn-out leather armor grabbed Borax by his collar and dragged him to his feet. "RUN!!! AIIIEEE!!!" A horrible screech echoed up the hallway, setting their teeth on edge. It was almost worse than their Lord's singing.

Borax followed Codger and several others goblins into the Escher Room and helped them close the heavy door. They slid the bolt in place just as the Thing slammed into it. The creature let out another high-pitched shriek in frustration and clawed at the door. There was a moment of silence, then a loud crash, as if the Thing had rammed against the door. It shook on its hinges. Borax scrambled backwards, breathless and panting.

"Won't take it long to get in 'ere." Codger waddled past Borax as fast as his short legs could carry him. "His Highness ain't 'ere. We need t' get t' the cellar an' then t' th' tunnels." Borax nodded, wringing his hands. Yes, the tunnels. That would take them out of the castle and away from the creature. "'owed that thing get here anyhows?" They hastened their steps as the Thing rammed the door again. There was a definite crunching noise, and Borax didn't think it boded well for the door.

"'ow am I supposed to know? I ain't the pick-up service! I'm just th' boot polisher. 'e showed up in th' throne room, is all I know, so's someone musts 'ave wished 'im away."

"Ooh, his Highness is going t' be angry again – it's dripping slime all over the floor."

Another goblin halted in his tracks, being unable to walk and talk at the same time. "Cor, I likes slime. It feels so good againsts the skin."

Borax cuffed him across the back of the head, knocking his rusty helmet off. "Get a move on, Pickwit, I don't think this slime is worth th' trouble. His Highness can just deal wi' that himself 'cause I ain't cleaning it up!" It was brave words from a goblin whose only thought, second to self-preservation, was how difficult it would be to get slime off his Highness' boots.

The Alien screamed in triumph as the door shattered into a rain of splinters. He was going to have a headache later on, but it would be worth it. It's not like he had opposable thumbs – the prey should have realized that he would have adaptations that would have made opposable thumbs a moot point. His prey just had no common sense, which was why they were prey in the first place. He snarled as he entered the room, and paused as his senses took in the many twists, turns and surfaces that were at odds with each other. The room went in all different directions, but when you can run on walls and ceilings something like that wouldn't make much of a difference. It was one of the advantages of having long gripping claws. He sneered at the pathetic attempt to confuse him. No…he was well and truly irate, and confusing room or no, he was determined to make something pay.

One moment he had his prey cornered and was about to make a triumphant kill, and the next moment some short, smelly bipeds piled on top of him and dragged him away to a completely different room filled with more reeking bipeds. It was positively frustrating, but he had been determined to keep his temper and politely ask to return to his kill before someone else took credit for his work, when one of the stinking bipeds screamed. He hated the screams – earsplitting, shrill and headache-inducing, he'd had no choice but to kill it. That just seemed to set off the other bipeds. It never ended. Just once he wished he could come across a mute prey. Just once.

He shook his head and entered the Chamber of Wayward Stairs. Such advanced technology wouldn't keep him from the hunt for long.

Jareth returned to his throne room in a shower of glitter. An angry crease formed between his brows. "Which one of you picked up that…thing?" He gazed at the mess surrounding him. Garbage, feathers, and a few bodies littered the floor.

A winged twig of a goblin cleared his throat from the chandelier. "Shh! Highness, it might hear you! Please, majesty, I didn't know! I thought it was wished away! Honest I did!"

Jareth looked up at the goblin, his hands behind his back. "Dewitt," he began dangerously. "How could you possibly mistake a man's dying scream for 'I wish the goblins would take you away, right now'?"

"Well," Dewitt hedged, his trembling causing the chandelier to rattle. He knew he'd done a bad thing, but tried to reason with his Highness. "It sounded a'roight to me. I distinctly 'eard the words 'right now'!" He nodded for emphasis. "Please don't be mad at me Highness! It's me first time collectin', I won't do it again, I promise!"

"Oh I'm sure you won't, Dewitt. If you survive this, you'll be on permanent Fairy detail." The goblin let out a wail of protest. Jareth stomped away, addressing the room at large. "What am I supposed to do now, hmmm? I offered the survivors a chance to go through the Labyrinth, and do you know what they did? They laughed at me. Then they shot a hole through my favorite jacket!" He turned so that Dewitt could see it for himself. The collar was ribbed so that it stood up, framing Jareth's slim neck and face. The hole was only inches from Jareth's ear.

"If the woman wasn't shaking so hard I really think she would've shot me!" He rubbed his chin in thought. "And now that creature is running loose in my castle." He turned away and began to pace the floor, but he nearly lost his footing as his boot slid across something slick. "What the blazes is this? Slime? There's slime in my Throne Room? Clean it up! Move, you pathetic hobgoblin!" Jareth paused long enough to ensure that his order was being carried out before he stalked out of the room. "Ruined," he muttered of his slimed boot. "It'll never wash off." He slowed his angry stride as an idea occurred to him. He ran the plan through in his mind, and finding no flaws with it, he set off to put his plan into motion.

Borax and his mates were quickly running out of breath. They thought they had escaped the Thing by using the tunnels that ran underneath the castle, but behind them they could hear the pursuit.

"I thought ye knew th' way outta here," Codger complained between breaths. They had been running for what seemed like hours, and still the Thing was still on their trail. "I swears I'm gonna kill that puss-sack Dewitt if his Highness don't!"

"Shut up! It'll hears you." Borax turned the corner and saw with relief that he was on the right track.

The first False Alarm stared at the ragged goblin group in amazement, but caught himself and intoned his line in his deep booming voice. "BEWARE FOR THE PATH YOU-"

"Shh! Shut up!" Borax repeated as he looked over his shoulder in terror. "Yer gonna give us away, ye dense chunk o' granite!"

Insulted, the False Alarm muttered to himself. "Well, I never! Just trying to do my job. And besides, you're going the wrong way, you're so smart! Hey Nigel, wake up! Get a load of these goblins. They won't get far – they're going the wrong way."

Nigel, another False Alarm, woke with a start. "Eh? What's that, Reuben? Oh. Ahem – THIS IS NOT THE WAY…really. 'Ey, chaps, you're supposed to go the other way."

A third False Alarm Hiram chimed in as the group of goblins passed him by. "What do you expect, Nigel," he asked with an air of superiority. "Goblins have never been known for their intelligence. Or their manners," he added as Borax spat at them in frustration. These blasted pile of pebbles never shut up…worse than the goblin wenches, they were.

Borax ignored their grumbling and continued down the tunnel. "Come on, it's this way." He limped to a ramshackle door in the wall an opened it. The other goblins followed him as they heard a now familiar piercing shriek from behind them.

A lone candle lit itself as they entered, barely illuminating the tiny, bare room. "You idgit!" Codger wailed in despair. "This is an oubliette! We'll be trapped for sure!"

"I knows wot I'm doing!" Borax closed the door behind them, not that it would be much protection from that Thing. He shuffled to the rough wooden bench and tipped it upright. Then, maneuvering it to the other side of the wall, he pulled on a doorknob that had been hidden under the bench. He threw it open, but paused as the other goblins pressed in behind him.

A little worm with a shock of blue hair peered up at them quizzically. "'Allo? Did ya need sommut?" Borax muttered an apology and slammed the door shut.

"'Oo was that, dear?" came a female voice from the other room.

"It was a group of goblins, dear."

"Cor…invite them for tea and cakes, luv."

"I'm sorry Missus. They've gone and left."

"Well! That was quite rude, wasn't it? Leaving without so much as a by your leave."

"I think they took a wrong turn."

"Serves 'em roight for being so boorish, if you ask me!"

"Yes dear, too roight."

Back in the oubliette Codger smacked Borax across the back of his head. "You stupid idgit! You've trapped us, you have!" Pickwit whimpered as he looked over his shoulder, expecting the thing to crash in on them at any moment.

With a grunt, Borax tore the door/bench from the wall, turned it on end, and replaced it. "I just had's it the wrong side up. 'Ere – this is it." Opening the door, he stepped through to a small alcove. With a satisfied grunt, he grasped onto the rotting rungs of a rickety ladder, hoping that it wouldn't fall apart underneath him as he climbed.