Parovich Hamen peered at the solar density/mass scanner. He turned to Mantorgan.
“You left this way too late y’ know.”
Mantorgan, the Elder of the planet Kalor, which orbited the star known as Kelmor, was quite hurt by this accusation.  Requiring great effort to make his mouth, which was shaped like two bananas stuck together, speak a Human language, he retorted:  “We only came into contact with alien life forms last week.”
“That’s no excuse.  Do you realise your sun will go nova in less than two Kalor years!  It’s very dangerous to leave it that late,” He scolded.
“So can you still help?” Mantorgan was getting quite worried.  If he didn’t do something about this his species would be wiped out in less than two years.  While he was the oldest Kalorean alive, he intended it to stay that way for at least another eight years.
“Of course,” said Parovich, opening his presentation brochure, “The procedure can still be carried out right up until about a month before nova is due to occur.”
Mantorgan made an expression of relief, which involved opening his mouth as wide as it would go and showing his eight tongues, which swayed slightly, like grass in a light breeze. Parovich was physically sick.
When the mess had been cleaned up Parovich continued with the presentation: “The Solar Youthamatic Version:233.54 works on a system of introducing energy, via a zero-point power generator into your sun, causing nuclear fusion to cease and causing nuclear fission to start.  When set correctly ‘fission will create just as much energy as fusion, and your planet will be saved,”  Parovich paused for a breath.  “Any questions?”
“Just one,” Mantorgan said.  “How much will this cost?”
“Standard service costs about 4,000 space dollars.”
“I don’t have any space dollars,” Mantorgen blurted.
“You’ll have to sell something, then.”
“There was a M’Tok who said it wou’d buy twenty thousand tons of Havrogdan Grain from us.  But it was only willing to pay two hundred space dollars.”
“I can sell you one of the earlier versions of the Solar Youthamatic in the form of a do-it-yourself kit.” Parovich proposed. Mantorgan grudgingly accepted.
Mantorgan looked at the instruction manual.  It read:  “Thankyou for purchasing the Solar Youthamatic, Version: 2.3.  Before activating, first find out the mass/density ratio of the star you wish to use the device on.” He turned to the vice elder, Groron. “What’s the mass/density ratio of Kelmor?”
“How should I know?”  Barked Groron.  “You’re the one who thought you could figure this out by yourself.”
“Well, lets just forgo that part, then.” Groron dispised the fact that the oldest Kalorean got to be the leader when he was obviously more suited to the job.  Mantorgan was just senile. Montargon read on:  “Once you’ve figured out your mass/density ratio, input the figure into your So’ar Youthamatic Version:2.33, using the units of lugars/bellymagon.”
“Okay, there’s another part to skip.  What’s next.” Groron didn’t like the sound of this. “What part to skip?  You can’t go skipping anything, it could cause the destruction of our entire society!” he panicked.
“Nonsense.  They don’t expect you to follow the directions exactly.  It’s just not reasonable.” “Please, just pay Parovich on an enstalment plan.”
“I aint doing that!  Have you any idea how much interest would build up?  We’d end up paying more than triple the original cost.” He read on: “Next, aim your Youthamatic Version:2.3 at your required star and activate.” Montargon Turned to Groron. “Call back Parovich.”
After setting the Solar Youthamatic Version 233.54 up Parovich returned to the surface of Kalor. “Now, whatever you do, please remember to turn off your Solar Youthamatic within 18 billion years, otherwise your star will be completely fissed and the effects will be as devastating as if you allowed it to go nova.”
“Will do,” Montargon assured him.

Approx. 18 billion years later... The streets of Kalor were lined with a strange writing which nobody could understand, although it was obvious to everyone that it was the same words repeated over and over again.  Nobody knew what they said, but the elder at the time, Juju, had ordered all the experts on the planet to work on deciphering this strange dialect. One day while walking around the palace gardens Juju happened to look up into the sky and he noticed something quite odd.  The sun was increasing in size, and the light it was producing was dimming.  This didn’t bother Juju. He’d always known that fire dies out when it runs out of fuel, and assumed the ancestral spirits would create another fireball in the sky. The head scientist, Habfortan, came running towards him.  She looked quite excited, her eight tongues were all moving around in the form of semicircles. “We have translated the ancient message!” she announced.
“Really?  And what does it say?”  by now they were standing in almost pitch darkness.
“Don’t forget to turn the Youthamatic off.”
“What does that mean?”
At that moment an androgynous blue space alien was passing the Ke’mor system in it’s blue space ship and noticed that bright expanding flash of a star exploding.
“Looks like somebody forgot to read the safety warning on their solar youthamatic.”  It chuckled. Solar Youthamatic safety warning (all versions):  Remember, it’s safer to turn your Youthamatic off a few years early than not at all.
The End

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