Waking up with no memory (just a vague dream of an alien) and a mysterious ache in his spout-side, our teapot realizes he's floating gently down on a parachute. But as he looks below, any hope of a soft landing vanishes... replaced by one very angry-looking cactus.
A teapot character lies in restraints on a metal examination table. a heartrate monitor next to him is off the charts. he stares in abject terror at a martian, a probe device in his hand. the teapots face is beaded with sweat. its mouth open mid-scream, eyebrows are exaggerated into steep arches of panic, ...