Sweet fiery bean-burger death..

THE BOTTOM LINE

Oddly enough, it turned out the aliens didn't come to enlighten or enslave us. They came with a business proposition--fuel for food. Veggie-burgers, black bean and mushroom ones, specifically. They were also willing to perform manual labor for fried zucchini and use their molecular de-formulators to get rid of Earth's landfills.

It wasn't altruistic, though it may have seamed that way to us at first; they turned out to be using the stuff to police fourth-dimensional beings that ran roughshod over their home planet.

I didn't care; veggie burger sales were down and I had a business to keep afloat.

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Things never worked right...

TECHNICAL ISSUES

"Well, there's your problem," the technician in the white cotton and poly-fiber blend shirt said, flicking straight greasy hair from his eyes then pointed to some number on the holo-display.

"Oh?" I asked non-committally. Just to make it look like I possibly knew (or cared) what he was talking about.

He nodded sagaciously, pulling a laser controller out of his pocket protector. Firing the light at the holo and clicking, he illuminated the lines four, seven and thirteen, and the corrosponding series of Rs, and Ws and Xs after them. "You've got kittens in your light-engine, captain."

Dammit. Not again.

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The hand of God rushed past...

THE ROAD

Lloyd was scheduled to go to the road this morning. It had been decided among the squirrels some time before, possibly Tuesday. The time all ran together when you were a squirrel. There were legends, of the time before the road, and building and people feeding them bread and potato chips. When squirrels went to the "woods" to die. It'd still been scheduled, of course. Squirrel-society was much tidier that way. But the road, and its metal machines served that function now. So, Lloyd made his goodbyes. He told Matilda she was a good wife, then stepped out into traffic.

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We'll never know...

DINNER TIME

The crunch of the fresh powdery snow made Sam hungry. It made him think about crackers, which made him think about soup, which made him think about the rumbling in his tummy… well, you get the idea. Anyway ,each step was a painful reminder of how he’d missed dinner since he started hunting the knee-high green alien around the deserted college campus. This really was no way to spend a holiday. He’d been hoping for pie or cranberry sauce, or something. Not wrangling creatures from other worlds.  What was it doing here? Why was it stealing hamburgers?  Questions without answers.

Always appease the mythical creatures....

CUPCAKES

Once again, the fairies were not pleased. They had done all the work; they’d baked and mixed and prepared…They’d iced the cupcakes. They’d  decorated them with sprinkles and fruits. They’d placed them in glass display cases and the remainder in paper boxes tied securely with string. They’d even cleaned the kitchen when they were done, and made the front of the bakery presentable to the early morning customers that stopped by for pastries and tea. They did all that…and Mr. Fleischer, the bakery owner, had failed yet again to deliver upon their demands. All they asked for was human flesh.

Addiction was a powerful thing...

GRASS

Fred hated the catnip. He hated it mostly because he loved it so much. He hated its tempting smell and its alluring taste. He despised his lack of control—as soon as it was in front of him, he was a mess. Rolling in it, licking it, sniffing it like a line of cocaine. He hated the shudder that ran through him every time he did it. He hated the idea of eyes watching him when he indulged in his favorite habit.--the way his wife looked at him, with her hands on her hips like that, glaring and judging.

Those judgemental types...

Sometimes a tongue is just a tongue and a sigh is just a sigh.

DOG  BREATH

Buddy, the adorable butterscotch colored Labrador puppy was a demon—a monster, maybe an alien. No one would believe Josh, but Buddy was a demon. When his parents went to bed, Buddy would nuzzle open the door to Josh’s room, then stand by the bed. Josh would hold his breath and wait for it, and every night, just when Josh thought that maybe he was mistaken, and maybe the dog was just a dog, the dog’s long, prehensile tongue would reach up and lick and caress the boy’s face and then tuck him in, and then Buddy would leave.

At least they did not suffer...

KNIFING

Merle was the balloon on the right. The yellow one, with the wording stretched across his bright, latex chest, inflated with helium until he was near-bursting. Sometimes, when his little girl skipped down the street, he bumped against the other balloons, Melvin the pink one, Sally the green one. They squeaked as they pressed together going through the front door to the girl’s home. They all bumped their heads gently on the ceiling as the girl slept. Just before dawn, on the third day of their existence, Merle got sick of the others and murdered them in their slowly deflating sleep.

It was one of those judgement calls...

PUNCTUALITY

The Council of Six deliberated under the Tree of Weeping, its long drooping branches rustling in the baking heat of summer. Two elves, two unicorns, an odious little man with a scraggly beard, and a wood spirit. To let the interloper pass through their lands, or to kill her where she stood. The elves felt it was worth the risk, should any of the Kingdom of Grass need passage across the sea. The man had no opinion, other than that she would make a good wife. The spirit reserved judgment and the unicorns sharpened their horns, to run her through.