*This was a little drabble that wouldn't stop bugging me. It doesn't have to make sense—this is an idea I had that sounded okay to write. This is a one-shot, people, and don't flame me. Poleepkwa Power! {^,,^}b

It had been three years since the ship left, and the world—especially the residents of Johannesburg—had not forgotten the prawns. No, they had not forgotten…it was just that there were so many problems in the world unrelated to the aliens and their technology, and there was so much to do. The memories had simply slipped into the back of the collective consciousness but not out of mind completely. No more talk of 'prawn rights' and District 10 peppered the newspapers and broadcasts; there were markedly fewer protests and gang crackdowns in the newest slum-to-be. MNU knew what they were doing—there was no need to worry, the masses reasoned. They should be left to do their job.

They hadn't forgotten the ship—they had just forgotten to care.

And now, as the technological behemoth coasted to a halt over the city and hovered in the air, a hush fell over its residents. One could almost hear the rustle of thoughts as they were quickly brought to light; it was reflected in the hastily shuffled pieces of paper held by the anchormen on the news. In all the different discussions and reports the same questions persisted: what happened next, now that it was back? Would the prawns leave, or was this ship bringing another two million starving prawns utterly dependant on MNU hospitality?

Some knew.

______________________________________________________

The poleepkwa—oh, how he hated the term prawn…they didn't even look like crickets or shrimp—finished connecting the last few wires to the collection of speakers. It had been so very hard finding them all…most had been thrown away and left out in the rain, needing repair and replacement parts when found. But still, it was worth it—for this one moment—he powered them up and inserted the scratched CD, praying to whatever gods his people had as he selected the track and pressed 'play'. One second, two seconds of silence. Had it worked?

The sudden twang of a guitar string thundered from the black speaker boxes, made tinny from over-amplification. A drumbeat began after a recorded count of 'one, two, three, four!' and a guitar riff joined in soon after. Smiling the best he could with his mandibles and almost jumping in joy, the poleepkwa swished his antennae in time to the music. It was loud enough—everyone in D10 could hear it. Hell, maybe MNU and Christopher heard it.

We're Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band—we hope you have enjoyed the show.
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band: we're sorry but it's time to go.
_______________________________________________________

The few prawns that could understand the English perfectly paused and abandoned their work when they heard the melody. It was much different from the music the gangs played when they came rampaging through the district—thundering, repetitive, and full of references to killing. No, this music was strange…more optimistic and happy, but about something they all couldn't quite grasp. Who was playing it, and why?

Sgt. Pepper's lonely.
Sgt. Pepper's lonely.

"The fook they doin' now?" The guard scowled as the music drifted over to him. His partner, an equally irritated man slightly taller then him, shrugged.
Sgt. Pepper's lonely.

"I don't know, but let's find out. Damn, I hate those Beatles fookers."

_________________________________________________________
Sgt. Pepper's lonely.
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band—we'd like to thank you once again.
Sgt. Pepper's one and only Lonely Hearts Club Band...it's getting very near the end.
The poleepkwa turned as soon as he heard the cries of "The fook you doin' prawn?" and sighed. Of course they'd come at the best part…figures. As accustomed he got down on his knees, only to receive a blow to the face from one of the MNU guards. Rage gushed to the surface and he shrugged off the blow, knocking the weapon from the human's hand and screaming at the top of his lungs. "It's too late for you, humans! Chris is back, and we'll be free!" The words sounded good as he said them, so he kept yelling at the two humans.

Sgt. Pepper's lonely.

"You're too late! We'll win, we'll win, MNU! You're too la—"

Crack. "Shut up, ya fookin prawn! Someone shut off that damn music!"

"We'll win! We…we'll win…"

Crack. Crack. Crack. Thud.

"There. The fooker's dead. Now get that goddamn music!"

"Alright. Lemmie cut these wires. God, the prawn really had this thing hooked up. Wonder where we got the music…"

"It doesn't fookin matter."
Sgt. Pepper's lonely.
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band!"

Whoa!

Click.

*I do not own District 9, thought I am a rabid fan, nor do I own the Beatles or their album "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band". I don't even own the poleepkwa character, because that would make me like MNU, and MNU sucks. Anyway, hope you liked!