God was he tall!
The two men in the truck could see him on the horizon. At first, coming off of Miller’s Lane onto I-15, they had thought it was a short telephone pole. As they got closer the hunched figure of a great man began to take shape. Almost as if with a will of it’s own the truck began slowing. The proverbial crawl achieved, they had several minutes to gawk before they were upon him.
It was dark out so the truck’s headlights shone brightly on the behemoth. Sensing their stare the giant turned to see them. His face resembled a stone gargoyle’s. Sharp features seemed to be cut from granite. Even his coloring was a pale gray. His hair was short and damped down by the light drizzle that was falling. For clothing, all that could be seen was an obviously self-made light brown trench coat. Really too heavy for a Tennessee spring night. On the other hand the sky above was threatening to change its mind about its feeble dripping and do some real storming. Plus the chances of a man like that finding a windbreaker in his size, well… just no. A hand the size of a hubcap raised his thumb in the familiar request.
”Damn! What is he Del? asked the mound of gelatin in overalls known as Albern Bright. “Think he’s some kinda circus freak?”
”Don’t know, but he sure doesn’t look well.”
Del the owner of the green ‘87 generic they were in began pulling over.
”What in the Hell are you doing Del?” Al asked.
”Must you swear every sentence? I’m pulling over. There’s not a town for another 30 miles. Judging from the way he’s swaying on his feet he won’t last another 30ft.”
The Giant wearily followed up to where the truck had stopped.
”Ok, but don’t blame me when tomorrow we all wake up dead.”
”Your house is a mile back, if you want you can walk back and we’ll work on my tractor some other time.”
For Al it was like not being given an option at all. The last time he had walked that far was- never. Needless to say he shook his head and said something not fit for print.
”Well alright then. Let’s see what he has to say,” Del cranked down his window as the giant both knelt and bent over. “What’s the story stranger?” Del asked.
”Hiking across America,” Rolled out an accent unfamiliar to the two farmers, “Got lost a while back and the only thing I seem to have found is a cold.”
”Sorry to hear about your misfortune. Tell you what though. If that front moving in is as bad as it looks, we’ll be racing home. I’m sorry to say we don’t have facilities large enough for you in our house, but you’re welcome to hunker down in the barn. Smells a bit but it’s warm and dry. Jen – that’s my wife – will fix you something for that cold. Wadda ya’ say?”
”Sounds miraculous. My thanks to you kind sirs.”
”No problem. Toss yourself in the back and we’ll be on our way,” He flashed a smile to close the deal, “By the way, name’s Del and this here beside me is Albern.”
”Hi Del, Albern. I’m Tom Thumb,” His face went from a smile to mock serious, “My parents were sick.” He threw his bag into the back, which sighed under the weight. After his own was added the truck was practically riding on flats.
”I still think it’s a bad idea,” Al whispered, “Come morning, everyone of us dead. Just wait and see.”
Which as it happens Del was unable to do. Since for the first and last time in his life, Al was right.
”...Blah, blah, blah. Who do you get to write this trash? Thing reads like a bad dime store novel.” The three-foot high alien sitting across from me tossed the file he’d been reading behind him. Within seconds a flask and a small glass of ice replaced the file. He filled the glass with the familiar amber of his favorite scotch. A cigarette also decided to make an appearance.
”First off,” I said, “What are you a hundred? Dime novels went out with the twenties. Second, put that fag out. You know I have asthma.”
”Well I don’t, so let’s compromise. You won’t breathe ‘til I’m finished.”
”Funny. Put it out.”
His black orb eyes stared at me from under a fedora. A hat that seemed to fit him naturally. It matched the ‘Midnight Blue’ pinstripe he was sporting today. And it went perfect with his complexion, which was always a little gray. Mr. Jones is the most stylish agent we have working for us here at the SSSS. Err, that’s Solar Systems Secret Service. I’ve often wondered if he only does the job to afford his lifestyle.
A moment passed while the toothpick sized cigarette almost disappeared. Just before it hit the filter he stubbed it out like he was obeying his orders. He continued staring at me a while longer, showing emotion you wouldn’t think a rubbery looking face like his could.
”Thank you,” I half growled from my Cat throat. I too am an alien but of a species that resembles tigers. Though our bodies are much like a human’s in shape.
”Sucks to your ass-mar, Wolf, ” he muttered before emptying his cup, “What do you want me to do about the Hitcher, sounds routine to me?”
”If you’d finished reading the report…”
”Yeah well I’d a finished it if it hadn’t been written so crappy,” he countered.
”Meredith wrote it.”
Meredith is his cousin and my wife. His mouth became a cheerio sized ‘o’.
”Oh,” he said.
”Don’t worry I won’t tell Mare about it. But you have to get down there quickly before that damned Mulder and Scully can!”
”That’s a now long cancelled TV show.”
”Well, whatever the equivalent is. Earthlings have such a way of bungling things up.”
”Friendly though. Good food too,” he smiled happily, remembering a chimichanga he had enjoyed at a little out of the way Mexican place. Darn thing had been near as big as him.
”Glad you think so. You’re scheduled for departure in 12 minutes.”
”So soon? I haven’t even got a toothbrush.”
”Take my spare if you like,” I held up a brush he could use to paddle a boat with.
”Pass. Anything I should know about what I’m walking into?”
”Nitsche. No movement in the last 48.”
”Nitsche?”
”I’m learning Krealien. Mare wants us to vacation there this year.”
”Ah. Well, you can count on me chief, or my name’s not Mr. Jones.” He handed me a card that read:
Mr. Jones
Snappy dresser
Agent of SSSS
Bad Ass.
”I wish you’d stop giving me these things, I already have twelve.”
”Meredith gave me a thousand last Christmas.”
”Oh.”
My wife is a very big hearted, um, ‘handsome’ woman.
”One more thing Wolfy boy…”
”Yes?”
”I can already see the narrative for this report shaping up in that head of yours. And I can tell it’s going towards a Sam Spade novel. When you do write this up, don’t go that route. I’m more of a ‘James Bond’ at any rate,” he flipped me a sarcastic salute then left.
What’s wrong with Sam Spade novels?
Early on Thursday morning as the first light was just starting to peak its head over the horizon. A strange sight visited the small town of Canyon, TN. A tiny ship shaped much like the classic saucer, found perch in the grassy meadow a few yards from an old barn. The once beautiful red paint was chipped away in most places. Most likely due to Jones’ love of cruisin’ dirt roads. The barn was green.
The door of the ship opened and out walked something the old farm was unfamiliar with… a $2,700 dollar suit. Jones, always decked out in the best, was adorned in his black Armani. The cane in his hand serving as a reminder that only a few, like the tiny alien stretching after the ride, can pull off the look. He scanned the area then pulled a cigarette. Slowly, pacing himself, he headed for the barn.
A few minutes later having walked the perimeter, he stood before the large barn doors. One of them was opened a little. Which was good as he would of had a cracker of a time opening it. Cautiously he entered in. The few bits of light coming in through planks offered just enough to see. Jones pushed the doors open till the barn was flooded with the day.
How to describe the inside? Ah yes. It was the inside of a barn. I’m sure you have a mental picture you can draw on. Do so. It’s correct. Jones climbed up into the hayloft only to find nothing. Not even hay. Quickly he climbed back down.
”Well the place seems pretty clean…” he mumbled to himself, ”...with the exception of all these dead bodies.”
Three to be exact. The rather tall fellow we have discussed earlier and the two farm hands. Farmer Del could’ve identified them as John and Paul Pope. In the case of the latter two they seemed to be dead. No breathing and no brain movement. Strangely enough though, as Jones read his portable MRI scanner, a pulse was found. As for Tom Thumb… nada.
A noise from a stall alerted Jones that he was not alone. He took a couple tentative steps then cursed. He lifted his right shoe and frowned. A large brown glob reminded him he was after all on a farm. He did his best to wipe it off then continued. As he got to the edge of the stall he pulled his gun out. In a quick movement he spun around the corner, his blaster outstretched.
”Alright, freeze!” he yelled.
”Moo,” came the response.
”Moo? What, are you some kind of cow or something?”
”Moo,” the cow assured him.
Jones eyed the cow for a few minutes wondering if it might yet be a Carigula from the planet Ipea in disguise. In the end he decided it was just hungry. 15 minutes later he left the barn, cow fed and watered. The only other buildings on the property were a woodshed and the house. The woodshed proved nothing other than that the people of earth name things appropriately. This left the house.
It was a lovely little number. The kind of house people leave to children, who then sell it to some young couple that’ll leave it to their children, who in turn will proliferate the cycle. It was white with a blue trim. A new roof had been added within the past year, as had new windows. The front door was standing wide open. Probably not the way it was normally kept, but the second lucky break of the day for our intrepid, short agent.
The immediate room was a 70s style kitchen, showing generations of progress only with it’s new oven. The lime green wallpaper and orange floors were more than a little oppressive. Far too much for the sensitive alien whose eyes only intensified the hue by 70% more than a human’s. The effect was so horrible that Jones felt compelled to have a drink.
The Living room\dining area was almost as bad. Brown. No more words to describe it. Just brown. Nevertheless after a thorough investigation, Jones moved on, content that there was nothing hiding. The small bathroom and three closets concluded the downstairs area.
A long trek up the 13 steps brought Jones to a small hallway and 4 doors. Behind the first on the right, was a linen closet. The second revealed a small bedroom. Inside were things like a small girl might enjoy. A large playhouse and doll set. An assortment of cartoon paraphenalia also helped to dress up the room. Posters of some sort puff girl thing that made Jones’s stomachs turn. A frilly bed that may or may not have had a pink cover underneath the weight of stuffed animals appeared to have not been slept in. In fact everything looked untouched and perfect. The only thing missing was a little girl. Jones was about to leave when he noticed something. On a mirror that was attached to the wall opposite the bed and above a small dresser, a small pinprick of blood quietly stared out. Making note of it he moved on.
Back in the hall and across was a bathroom with a lot of toothpaste in the sink but not much else. That left one last door. The master bedroom was the only decent decorated room in the whole of the house. Well with the exception of the plaque that hung above the four poster bed that read, “The Dell” which was just in poor taste. A bad joke stinging not only because the farmer had been named Dell, but also because the farmer was in the dell at that moment. So was his wife. Neither of them were particularly surprised to see Jones. Neither was much of anything any more in fact, as they were dead.
”Always the last place you look,” Jones muttered, before checking for a pulse. Both cases were like the farm hands.
Jones searched the rest of the room. A small door led to yet another bathroom. Curtains in the room pulled back to reveal a balcony. He pulled a cigarette out, then glancing at the old couple he stepped out to light up. Respect for the dead and all that. He puffed away for a while, rubbing his temples and looking out over the field.
”Something very odd has wronged you two. I just wish I could say what,” as he was saying this he noticed off aways from the house a large wooden door flat in the earth, “I wonder if yonder storm cellar might have something to say in the matter.”
Jones flicked the butt away and headed down and out. A few minutes later he stood before the door. A muted thumping from inside was trying to get out. A latch on the outside blocked its escape. Jones eyed the door intently. Something instinctively told him his greatest fear was behind that door. Summoning all his courage (taking a drink of scotch) he threw the latch back. The door burst open and his worst fears confirmed themselves in the form of a little girl.
”Oh thank you so-” catching sight of her savior, she screamed, then passed out.
There was no way in hell a three foot high alien was going to move a 5’4 girl an inch let alone the distance to the house. As the saying applies to ‘desperate times’, Jones found himself administering a shot of masaki-liu to the child. Masaki-liu is a vitamin extract that is commonly used to make a drunk sober and quick. Needless to say the girl bolted straight up, eyes open wider than should be possible.
”Fire! Fire in my blood and head!” the child screamed.
”Here have a swallow of this,” he handed her a small cup. The girl downed it then began choking.
”Now my throat’s burning!”
”Scotch will do that. How’s the head feel?”
One day I really must have a discussion with my cousin-in-law about the do’s and don’ts of dealing with children
”Better actually,” then as if remembering to what she was talking to, “what are, um, who are you?”
Jones smiled inside at the chance to ditch another card.
”...Bad ass. So you’re an alien spy?”
Jones nodded.
”How come the card’s in english? Do aliens speak english? Are you going to help my Mom and Dad?” she glanced towards the house her green eyes filling with tears.
Jones exhaled slowly, “My cards are written with a special type of ink that let’s any race read it. Very few aliens speak English, I just happen to like your planet. And, I’m sorry to say your parents are beyond help. I’m here to find out what happened to them.”
The girl collapsed into a heap. For several tear choked minutes all Jones could see was a pale blue shirt, jeans and a lot of peach colored hair. He almost reached out to pat the girl on the back, and then thought better of it. His hand would probably only freak her out even more. The only thing he could do was step back and give her some time. Hopefully she’d be able to pull herself together enough to answer a few questions. In the meantime he made a call.
”Hello?” I answered.
”It’s a royal mess here,” Jones spoke remarkably clearly for a phone that was light years away. I’d say we had an amazing connection.
”What’s going on?” I asked.
”There’s a kid down here and it’s all…moist. What do I do with it?”
”What about everyone else?”
”Eh, they’re dead- mostly. Focus Ewen. Child. 9 or ten years old. Moist, very moist.”
”What do you mean, ‘mostly dead’?” I asked ignoring his whining.
”Hearts still beating. That’s not important. What’s important is that you tell me how to turn it off.”
”Turn what off?”
”The eye-water. It freaks me out. Makes me feel funny. Like…I should hug it or something.”
”Oh good Gosh! Just hurry up, ok? Bye.”
Jones stood speaking profanities into the dial tone for another unknown time before returning his attention to the girl. The child though still crying was now sitting up. He approached her slowly feeling strangely vulnerable to her.
”I don’t mean to interrupt your cleansing ritual but I need to ask you a few questions. I know it’s horribly traumatic, and so soon, but there are things I need to know. They may help to figure out what happened. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
”Good. What I’d like to do is take you to my ship. I think you’ll be more comfortable there. What do you say?”
A look of terror flooded her face. Jones understood that it wasn’t going to happen that way.
”Ok, how about I just sit beside you here?” He scanned the area realizing that no matter where he sat it would stain his suit either with grass or mud. He chose grass and decided to send the cleaning bill to the agency.
”Alright here’s the plan. I’ll ask you a question you answer. At the same time I’ll scan your mind. It won’t hurt a bit. This will allow me to see things you may not remember. Understand?”
Another nod.
”Good. What’s your name?”
”Kimberly Anna Johnson.”
”How would you like me to call you?”
”Anna. Everyone else does,” she sniffed.
Jones felt a strange pride for the girl. Anna seemed to be pulling herself together.
”Ok Anna. How come you were in the cellar?”
”I was at a sleepover on Friday. When I got back Saturday evening the house was quiet. I went upstairs to my parents room…” she broke off, unable to go on.
”That’s alright Anna, you can stop for a minute,” Jones was looking at his palm-sized scanner, which made her memory look like a movie.
He watched through her eyes as she went up the stairs not in the least afraid. Why should she be? This was home. First she went to her bedroom to put away a few things. Then out to the hall where she called out. There was no answer back. Nor would there ever be an answer from her parents again. At last she stepped into the room. It was dark. The little light coming from the crack in the curtains only made it worse. Rain outside was drawing strange shadows on the walls. They seemed almost to be crawling with some sort of bugs. Like armies marching up and down.
On the bed something seemed to be sitting on her father’s chest. She couldn’t understand why her Dad didn’t wake up. Whatever was on top of him had to be heavy. Anna called out to him, expecting him to sit up. She never even thought how odd it was for them to be in bed when their daughter had still been out. It was not however her father that responded. The thing sitting on Del rotated the top half of itself to face her. A red light set in what she assumed was it’s head glowed in a cross shape.
She ran from the room slamming the door as hard as she could. Down the stairs, out the kitchen around the house and into the cellar she went. She barely felt the rain. Her only thought that it had to be safer out of the house. A minute later however she heard the door of the cellar latch closed. Whether from the wind or by the hand of the creature, she did not know. Jones suspected the latter.
The sun shown down brightly on Anna’s face. Jones eyes capable of seeing things only his race could, noticed the little rainbows that filled her every tear. He told her this and it had an almost calming effect on her.
”Mr. Jones, can we go to your ship now?” she asked.
Jones nodded and led her to the tiny ship that shared a strange technology with many planets. Outside it was about the size of a tractor’s wheel. But inside was like to a condo.
”I know, it’s not much, but I make due,” his weak attempt at humor fell short of even falling short of the mark.
”I didn’t think it would be so…” Anna remarked.
”Yeah, it’s a neat effect. Feel free to sit anywhere. Would you like something to drink?
”Yes please. Anything would be good.”
Jones scanned the fridge and cupboards, wondering what exactly one could serve a human. It had been a year or so since he was last on earth and he hadn’t had a chance to go shopping then. In the end he went with a pink Veluthe, a sort of generic fruit juice he’d picked up while on Planet X, the shopping planet.
When he entered the room Anna was no longer crying. She seemed almost peaceful. She was polite when she took the drink. Even thanked him. Then she guzzled what she described as the best fruit punch she’d ever tasted. Which pleased Jones to no end.
”Now Anna, I’ve got to go back out there, but I want you to stay here. Alright?”
”No way,” she answered flatly.
”I have to insist. It’s much too dangerous out there. In here is safety.”
”In here is not helping. I need to help. I need- Daddy?” Anna dove out the door.
Jones looked out the front window and saw Del walking around like he’d never even been sick.
The small alien ran out after the girl but could not match the stride of her legs. Off in the distance he saw the man open his arms and Anne leaping into them.
”Anna no!” Jones yelled. When he reached them they were hugging as if all was right in the world.
”Oh Daddy I thought you were dead,” Anna was saying.
”Well I’m quite alright as you see. How are you?” Del certainly spoke like he was alive.
”I’m fine Daddy, now that you’re here.”
”Excuse me,” said the little alien politely, “but I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”
Del dropped the girl in surprise, who fell back, nearly cutting herself on an axe.
”What the hell are you doing here?” Del asked.
”Here? Interesting. I don’t recall trading schedules with you. Tell you what though. I have a nifty device that scans bodies. Right now it’s telling me two things. One, despite your standing here, you’re still not breathing. And two, there is currently something living inside you. My name is Mr. Jones, what’s yours?”
His was apparently “Mr. pulling gun out of pants and screaming ‘He’s mine food, mine food.’” Needless to say old Mr. P.G.O.P.S.H.M.F.H.M.F. never got a shot off. Anna who seemed oddly parted with her grief buried the hatchet… in her father. An axe in the chest coincidentally being his weakness.
”Thank you. I’m very sorry you had to do that. I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.”
Anna was staring down at her father.
”Just tell me it wasn’t really my father anymore. That I didn’t actually kill him,” she spoke as if the wind had been knocked out of her.
”I don’t know what comfort these words will be but your father died days ago. All you did was destroy one of his killers.”
”I thought so. What was it?”
”A kind of parasite.”
”Like Puppet masters?”
”Sort of. Much more intelligent though.”
”Did he feel pain when he died? Not now I mean; before.”
”No,” Jones lied.
”What happens now?” her face bore no emotion, as if all feelings had been drained from her.
”You go back to the ship and wait for me. I’ll do what has to be done here.”
”Huh-uh,” Anna put her foot on her father and retrieved the axe like it had been stuck in a log, “I need to help finish this.”
Jones saw the determination in her face and asked only one question.
”Where the heck did that axe come from?”
Anna shrugged, “Dunno. We don’t even own an axe like this.”
”Oh ho,” Jones filed this piece of information away for later, “then we’re going back into the house and you’re not going to do anything you don’t have to. Understand? I lead, you’re my backup.”
”Ok. What’s your first name?”
”Mr. Jones will do fine, thank you.”
They entered the house from a side veranda. This time they came directly into the living room. Jones had seen a lot of things in his life, but nothing had prepared him for what greeted them. Jones had figured on Anna’s mother psychotically roaming around. Maybe a cleaver and sick grin. He could even imagine her with the family rifle. What he never even considered was that she would be wielding lemonade.
Nor was she the only one in the room. Both of the farm hands were there, seated quite comfortably, icy glass in one hand and cookie in the other. It could have been a snapshot of normality, if you know, not for the whole being dead thing.
”Oh good, Anna and Mr. Jones. Please be seated,” Jen motioned towards two empty seats. Jones started to pull his blaster but the farm hands both replaced the cookies in their hands with guns. A surprising choice too. The guns were both Jerichos. A type of gun popular with military people and collectors. Not common on farms.
”Now, now Mr. Jones. You’ve already killed my son. The least you can do is sit and talk a spell.”
Jones looked at Anna and sighed. If he’d been alone he would have chanced it. He’s small but can dodge and shoot like no ones business. But Anna might get hit in the crossfire. He couldn’t risk that.
”Can I have a glass of that yellow stuff?” Jones asked.
Jen smiled, “Of course. How about you Hon?”
Anna sat rigidly in a recliner clutching the axe. Tight lipped but she managed to shake her head no.
”Suit yourself. Mr. Jones how is it you came to be here?”
”I hate it when people play dumb and ask me retarded questions. You know who I am so obviously you know how I came to be here. You are aware that what you’re doing is a violation of Sec. 831-b of the A.S.Y.’s inter-celestial treatise?”
”Poaching?” Jen was honestly shocked, “Is that what you think we’re doing?”
”Aren’t you? You are feeding off the humans right? And humans happen to be a protected species.”
Jen seemed genuinely hurt.
”Not at all. We are not Parasites. John, Paul, go bring the bags. We’ll show them what we’re doing. I’m sure you’ll find this interesting Mr. Jones.”
The two farmhands stood up and began walking towards the kitchen. And now here is what makes agent Jones different from so many others. What sets him apart from say, Elliot the Xanite, who is no longer with us. A lack of curiosity.
Not a second after their backs were turned, he had his blaster out. A quick shot to John’s head and one to Paul’s left lung persuaded the men to die. He then shifted his gun to his hostess, who sat glued to her chair, jaw on the floor.
”What did you do that for?” Jen asked.
Jones looked at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world and she was playing stupid again.
“To kill them, duh.”
”But you didn’t even hear what we had to say!”
”Meh.”
”But aren’t you even a little curious?”
”Curiosity killed the cat.”
She raised a finger, “Ah, but satisfaction brought it back.
Jones shrugged, “Who cares? I hate cats.”
A large hole appeared in the upper left corner of Jen’s head where an eye used to be. Probably as a result of the gun which shot her.
”You hate cats? Bang? Why didn’t you listen to what she was saying? She said they weren’t parasites! Don’t you think you should have found out what they are?” Anna cried out.
”That’s a question that deserves an answer and here it is. In truth I do actually like cats. I just thought it had more punch that way.”
Jones held out his scanner. He studied each body carefully and frowned at the results.
”There’s one more at least,” he announced a few minutes later.
”How do you know that?” Anna asked.
”Because none of them are the one you saw.”
”So what do we do now?”
Jones sat back and lifted a glass to mouth, careful to drink from an area that wasn’t sprinkled with red. A sour expression crossed his face. He took a small red flask that for once did not contain Scotch from his left pocket. He poured it into his glass and sipped his now hard lemonade. After a lick of his non-existent lips he declared it good. A cigarette soon joined the mix and felt right at home. He glanced at Anna who was staring at him impatiently. He let out a great puff of smoke with a deep rush.
”All right, look. For every step you take I have to take five. I’m taking a break.”
”What about my parents?” Anna demanded.
”They’re dead. Five minutes won’t change that.” He winced once the words were out but she didn’t react like he thought she would.
Instead she sat back in the chair and didn’t say anything. They sat in silence for exactly 5 minutes. Jones watched the last seconds tick away on a clock above Jen’s body. It was shaped like a house, the clock, not her body. When time was up he stood and left, Anna following.
”Where are we going?” Anna asked.
”There is only one other being on this farm big enough to house the bug you saw. The cow.”
So back to the barn they went. Inside Anna got her first look at the giant.
”What about him?” She asked.
Jones glanced at Tom.
”No he’s the first unfortunate victim and the carrier that brought him to the farm. He’s completely dead.”
Jones sidled up to the stall and looked at the cow with his black orb eyes. The Guernsey in turn looked at him with its big cow eyes. This continued awhile, both of them sizing each other up.
”Alright cow, I know there’s a critter the size of Wisconsin inside of you, so talk. What’s going on?”
”Moo,” the cow answered him.
”Moo?” Anna asked Jones.
”Moo,” the cow assured her.
”So we’re still playing that game are we,” Jones stated.
”There’s no game,” said a voice from behind them. Anna and the alien turned simultaneously to see the figure approaching, “it’s just a cow.”
”Al?” Anna breathed.
Jones smacked his head with the palm of his hand.
”Fatty! I forgot all about you. How’s the bug?”
Al held up a rifle. “We prefer to be called spiders.”
”See this is why I hate farms,” Jones declared. “Everyone has a gun.”
”Why are you doing this?” Anna asked.
”Nice to know someone’s willing to hear us out before shooting. Mr. Jones, you interested?”
The SSSS agent lit a cigarette before responding.
”No. Let me tell you why. Because every time something like this goes down it’s always for one of three reasons. Either you’re hungry or you’re aiming at global domination, or something’s wrong with your race and you can’t breed unless you lay your eggs in another’s body. Your husband Jen ruled out the first option. We can rule out the second because there were only two breeders to begin with. You in the Giant’s body and Daddy Long Legs in the duffel bag. That leaves us with number three. I think I heard somewhere they now have Viagra for women. Not that you need it anymore. You know since I wasted your life partner.”
”Lucky guess. However since we’ve nothing left to talk about I’ll be killing you now.”
Al raised the rifle and fired. Jones looked like a rubber band stretched then fired. He was well out of the way by the time the bullet reached where he had been standing. When he landed he had his gun ready. It was not needed. The axe formerly in Anna’s hands had taken up residence in Al.
”Good aim Anna,” Jones voiced.
”Thanks. That’s it right?”
”Not quite,” Jones straightened his suit out then lowered the gun on Anna and fired.
The small alien sat across from me smoking until once again I asked him to put it out. He’d had several good weeks rest and was just now coming in to make his report. If it were up to him he’d never file a report. So I hold his paycheck till he does.
”I don’t quite understand some things. I’m afraid you’re in for some questions,” I said to the dismay of my friend.
”Oh alright,” He sighed.
”Let’s start with that strange accented tall man. What planet was he from?”
”Earth. He was Irish.”
”Earth! He was so tall.”
”Eleven feet three inches. Grew up in a suburb of Dublin. I had the body shipped to his family along with a note that said he died defending an old lady against a gang.”
”That was sweet of you.”
”Not really. I just like lying,” he pulled out a short metal tube he’d gotten in a tourist shop on the trip back. He pushed a button on one end and the metal telescoped into a martini glass.
”Cute. How did you know it was the female in Al?”
”From what I saw in the girls memory. The females are always bigger when it comes to spiders. Plus I figured it was laying eggs in Del. Are we almost done? It’s Tuesday Taco Two play at Toucan’s Tasty Tosquitos,” he licked his mouth and rubbed his tiny belly.
”Soon enough. Now about the cow… Why did you bring it with you?”
”I feel that for future investigations it would be good to map the cow language.”
”But from what you’ve told me the cow has only one word in its vocabulary.”
”Moo,” Jones said.
”Moo?” I asked.
”Moo,” he assured me, “I figure it must be something important if they spend their whole life trying to make us understand it. Besides it gives something for the language boys to do down in room 303. You know they’re always staring jealously out the windows as the agents come and go.”
I rubbed my head, which was developing quite a headache.
”Why can’t you ever just blow up something like everyone else? Why must you always bring someone or something back with you?”
”What are you talking about? I blew up the farm.”
”I know. I mean- oh never mind.”
Jones proffered a queer little smile and spoke conspiratorily, “Now that that’s all finished I’m gonna treat you to a taco!”
”I didn’t say we were done. ‘Sides Meredith is making sigh curd loaf.”
”Oh. Sorry.”
”Yeah Let’s get back to it.”
”Ok, but hurry up.”
”About the girl. How did you know she was infected? Was it that bloodspot you saw?”
”Nope. That turned out to be from some bike crash the week before. The tip off came from her sudden lack of emotion. You know, the way she was able to sever ties with her family. And when I say sever ties I mean hacking away at them. And when I say hacking I mean she used an axe. And by axe I mean-”
”I get it! So then why did you stun her? Why not just destroy her too?”
”Well she hadn’t completely succumbed to the bugs. Like the two farmhands she was only seeded with eggs. They hadn’t been developed yet. The farmhands weren’t even hosts yet themselves. If they hadn’t been killed first I would of done what I could have to save them too. As it stands they were basically remote controlled by Jen.”
”How did the girl last so long?”
”Strong immune system. Some people just have them,” he looked at his watch and then at me. I ignored him and went on.
”What is her status now?”
”I cryo’d her, but not before the poison had seeped into her brain and smoothed out the ridges that code empathy. A few months of treatment and she should be mostly back to normal. She’ll have a scar though which may cause glitches from time to time.”
”And where will she live while this goes on?”
Jones shuffled his feet as he searched for the right way to phrase what he had to say.
”Let’s go get those tacos.”
”Jones now!” I snarled
”I thought I would take her in. I like her. She reminds me of a kitten I once had.”
”Children are not pets.”
”Fine then. She’ll be my niece or some such drivel. Look there’s loads of other humans here. Even a couple her age. She’ll fit in great. Back on earth they’d probably accuse her of murdering her family.”
”What about extended family?” I asked.
”She has one aunt who’s near death.”
I let out my last heavy sigh of the story and brought out a copy of the agency’s expense report.
”Fine, Jones, fine. Keep the kid. But I have one last question.”
”Shoot,” he said, getting to his feet.
”How in the hell can you justify spending Twenty-eight hundred Kubars on a new suit as a cleaning expense?”
He removed a plain white envelope from his jacket and placed it on my desk.
”I thought this might come up so I prepared this in advance. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a date with two number threes,” Jones stated before exiting with the quiet dignity of a saint who has just been martyred.
I looked at the envelope dreading it’s content. Unfortunately there was no putting it off. I am after all a very busy person. I didn’t bother with the formality of a letter opener. Though strangely enough I have ten of them. Don’t ask. It’s a hobby. Instead I ripped the side open and emptied it into my left hand. Inside, the smarmy arse had left another of his business cards with my answer. Underlined in red with arrows pointing at it from all angles were the last two words. ‘Bad Ass.’
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Dry boring stuff first.
Punctuation is spotty. Please make use of commas and quotation marks at appropriate times.
Fun stuff:
Enjoyable story line, although the “report as a novel style” doesn’t really stay with the story line.
Mr Jones as charecter is well presented.
The narrator should have asked where the axe came from.
With a bit of smoothing out this could be very good
Fun story. I just have a few nit-picky things to note:
“paraphenalia” – should be paraphernalia
”Nitsche. No movement in the last 48.” ”Nitsche?”
Did you mean Nietzsche, or was the mispelling intentional?
Is “Mulder” supposed to be Moulder?
“How come the card’s in english? Do aliens speak english?” English needs to be capitalized.
*“he noticed off aways from the house a large wooden door flat in the earth,” Aways?
~Angel
I loved this story. It ammused me to no end. One of my favorite lines has to be:
Mr. Jones
Snappy dresser
Agent of SSSS
Bad Ass.
Mr Jones had me laughing out loud on many occasions.
I liked the plot, it was unsual. Not at all what I expected, but one thing that confused me was tat there was no actual explination for the Alien investigation, so perhaps a little more light could have been shed on that, but thats the only criticisim I have.
I would like to read more on how Mr Jones’ deal with Anna living with him. Perhaps a stepping stone for a another short story?
I really enjoyed this. At first, I thought that the transition from traditional narrative to the scene with the aliens in the office was quite jarring, but upon reading further, I saw that you tied everything up quite nicely. Also, I do like the ending, it felt like the equivalent of a rimshot at the end of a really good joke. Strangely, maybe it was just the repetition of the phrase badass, the fact that the alien was confident enough of his status to have it put on his cards, I pictured some sort of animated short with Mr. Jones voiced by Samuel L. Jackson. A few technical difficulties, however.
You switch from past tense to present tense a couple of times throughout, however, it seems to be only when you are using asides to explain something about your characters. If this is your style, then more power to you. Otherwise, I would suggest picking a tense and sticking to it.
Other than that, the only other nitpick I have is the sentence that starts with “The sun shown…” Shown is used as a past tense version of show, as in “I was shown to the door.” The word you are looking for is “shone.”
Good start to this story. It needs a bit of polishing, though. There were some times when it wasn’t clear who was speaking, and the perspective of the narrative switched between characters and the narrator. There are also some general grammar/spelling mistakes.
A couple of specific errors:
“he won’t last another 30ft” – ‘thirty feet’ should be written out
“would of had” – use ‘have’ not ‘of’
like to a condo – I think the ‘to’ is extraneous
but I make due – make ‘do’
There were some fun moments throughout (good for a comedy, I think):
“I’m sure you have a mental picture you can draw on. Do so. It’s correct.”
“I just like lying”
The business cards were a nice touch, too.
I’d like to re-read this when you’ve worked on it some more. I could easily see a series of stories featuring this team.
Good luck!
I really liked this. you seem to have really thought out everything. What I would like to see is some more detail about what the spiders were and what they were doing on earth. I thought that the alien was rather funny.Have you considered turning this into a novel? right now it is fine but with such a storng character you might just take a place alonside the Hitchkiker’s guide to the Galaxy (with some work).
there are some passages that just don’t sound right, but you can catch those really quickly by reading it aloud. Also when you say that his mouth formed an ‘o’ and then he says ‘oh’ i thoguht that was rather unnessisary.
overall = :)
I thought this was fantastic. The humour was fantastically structured, the subject was classic yet original at the same time which is rare and the ability to be able to picture everything that you are putting in words is what I call a true and potential talent. This is most certainly one of the better short stories I’ve read. ~GracieM
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