Fiction: Outstanding in Their Fields

The oblong little spacecraft overtook the truck on the road and landed gently in front of it, scarcely disturbing the gravel. The driver of the truck, a Blazer from the previous decade, slowed and stopped and stared.

A hatch opened on the side of the spaceship and an extraterrestrial, all four-foot-five of him, stepped down to the ground, his iridescent green scales shining in the afternoon sun. He approached the truck’s driver, a stocky man wearing a brand-new seed cap.

“Good soil to you,” the alien said. He held a small, round device from which the English words flowed; nothing about his mouth seemed capable of producing those sounds.

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Fiction: Jewelry Box

“Oh, look at the cute little jewelry box I picked up at a yard sale. Isn’t it darling?”

“It certainly is. And it looks wonderful on your dresser.”

“That’s why I got it. It matches beautifully. I put all my earrings in it yesterday.”

“Very nice. Well, grab a pair and let’s go.”

“All right. Wait. It’s empty! How can it be empty? I put every earring I own in here.”

“They’re certainly not on the floor. Is there a hole in the box?”

“No. It sure got dusty under there in a hurry, though. What could possibly have happened to my earrings?”

*     *     *

Scientists tell us that, fiction aside, extraterrestrial life will not have a head, two arms and two legs. Eating and digesting are assumed to be universal, however.

Fiction: Illegal Aliens

For all practical purposes, it was just the two of us in the little bar in Las Tres Mujeres, New Mexico. There were five other guys in the place, but two of them had passed out, two were more legitimately asleep, and the fifth was an intensely quiet drunk off in his own little world. That left me and the Mexican-American bar owner named Germán.

The bar, El Cantinero Solo, boasted few modern amenities save the cooler for the cerveza and the satellite TV. The drunks didn’t seem to mind so I overlooked it too.

The TV was showing an American newscast; a superannuated U.S. senator was halfway through a sound bite. I’d been mildly captivated by the fifth drunk and caught only the last part of it.

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