How 'Bout This Saturday? Part 1

[originally posted 7/27/2006]
Nelson Smiley swaggered when he walked. When he walked, he walked like he owned the ground he walked on. He'd developed this walk over the years, and since he had been alive for several centuries, he'd had plenty of time to perfect it.

Odd, right? But the fact that he was (mostly) immortal wasn't on his mind at the present moment, nor was his typical swagger. On his mind right then were his lovely girlfriend Cordova, her recent words to him, and the annoying poop stain his cat had on its mouth.

Nelson was on his hands and knees, a washcloth with the bubbly mixture of Ajax and water, trying to woo the cat towards him so he could grab it and wipe the poop off. He wanted everything to be perfect tonight. Cordova was coming over, it was a special night. Their third date. When he asked her out last time, it went like this:

"How 'bout this Saturday?" he said.

She said, "It will be a night you won't forget."

Already he couldn't wait. He wondered what he wouldn't forget? "Mao, mao!" he said, trying to trick the cat into thinking he was a colleague. Nelson had problems relating with his cat because he thought he was superior to it, a mistake often made, and seldom corrected.

Then everything shook, and a loud crack thundered across the sky. The cat stood on it's haunches, ready to flee. Nelson threw the Ajax filled washcloth into the air and screamed like a little boy. Everything went dark, even though it was the middle of the day. A light filled the sky, and Nelson saw what looked like a giant loaf of bread crash in the distance. A second later a thud cracked and the cat promptly fled underneath the couch and proceeded to wipe the poop off his own face with saliva solution and paw.

The first thing Nelson Smiley thought was, "Oh, I hope this doesn't cancel Cordova's and my date tonight."

The second thing he thought was, "I wonder if I should shower beforehand?"

The third thing, though, when he remembered the crash because he could see flames in the distance, was, "Hmm, didn't grandma say once that my immortality and love would both be challenged by a loaf of bread that fell from the sky?"

***

"Ack hack aaaack aack ackkkk!" The alien leader said to the alien pilot as the ship shaped like a loaf of bread spun out of control towards the crust of the foreign planet that they hoped wasn't Earth.

Things had gotten out of hand in the last fifteen minutes. An alien pilot made a miscalculation, someone made a left turn instead of a right and realized too late they were headed for the dreaded Earth. These things happen.

This was not good, especially for the aliens. Officially, the aliens were known as The Aliens from Ackmanabar Sector 5. Sector 5 had gotten several transmissions over the years from Earth, mostly of the ten o'clock news, and they were deathly afraid of Earth for this reason. Especially of a place called Crenshaw Boulevard and another known as New York City. So much havoc, so much pain and suffering, and even though these stories were interspersed with writhing emotional dramas about dogs compassionately embracing kittens, it was not enough. The aliens were sufficiently happy to keep to their own. As far as they were concerned, they never ever ever wanted to even come near Earth.

They did enjoy rap music and polka, though.

Their spaceship was an older one, but was equipped with the shift technology of some of the newer models. Its "skin" took the shape of an object of the environment it entered. The intention was to blend in, to fly unnoticed. Who can blame the aliens if they were unaware that bread did not reach that size? What sense to chide them if they had no idea bread didn't fly? At least it was in the shape of banana nut. At least the alien "skin" had good taste.

Presently: "Nack hack ackkhh shack!" The alien captain said to the alien leader. By the way, the aliens looked like giant, walking celery sticks filled with peanut butter. If you can picture it, their fronts were all green and they had round eyes with coarse green hair, and their backs were a brownish peanut butter color. These aliens sweat, and so when they sweat, especially on their backs, it looks like canola oil. So, actually, they were identical to walking celery sticks filled with peanut butter.

The alien captain was hysterical, as was the alien leader. They had no idea what to do. It appeared as if their ship would have to undergo some emergency repairs before it would be equipped to leave the Earth's atmosphere. In the meantime, they were mostly concerned with staying away from humans and any crime they might do to them. That was what all the "acking" was over.

One could rightly imagine, then, their relative insane behavior, when two pinpricks of light came closer and a young, pretty, very pretty, actually, woman stepped out of her car and yelled, "Is everything alright? Is everyone okay?" They chattered low, to what would sound to human ears just the buzzing of bees, about what to do next.

This was a rather fortunate turn of events, as the aliens viewed it. To keep any crimes from happening to them, to ensure their safety from the hooligan inhabitants of the Earth, the aliens decided to take this pure, innocent woman hostage. They would use her as leverage until their ship was repaired and they could leave safely. It was a brilliant idea, some aliens thought. Others voiced that the woman would only bring trouble, these others strongly suggested the woman be killed.

The dissenters were not heard. Good thing, because if they had decided to squish the woman, it would have been terrible for everyone. Because the woman standing innocently outside of her car, genuinely concerned about the welfare of the inhabitants of the loaf of bread, was Cordova. Lovely Cordova.

***

Nelson thought about going and checking out the flaming loaf of bread, but instead decided to take a shower. He wanted to smell good for his date.

Nelson thought a lot in the shower. Most of the time it was just random things like cooking eggs or making "Moo" sounds or wondering why some people walk on their tip-toes and others flat-footed. Today, though, his thoughts were more serious. He was shampooing, and as he shampooed, he thought of Medusa, the Greek mythological figure with snakes for hair and her slayer, his great great great great Grandpa, Perseus, the famous half-god.

He thought about his immortality, how he was immortal except for his left foot, like Achilles. His mom said she dipped him into the river Styx to protect him, instead it gave him a serious phobia of being underwater, made him bitter about living in the shadow of his ancestor Perseus, and kept his heartache alive with a burning passion. He longed for love. Especially now that he may have found it.

Then he rinsed off the shampoo and started in with the conditioner.

The news was on while he was getting ready for the night he would never forget. He noticed a reporter by the loaf of bread that crashed. He turned up the volume:

"They appear to have taken a hostage, a young woman, unidentified. They look dangerous, but appear to have no visible guns."

Footage played what appeared to be giant celery sticks filled with peanut butter moving around. The celery sticks were moving, parting to show a young woman. The celery sticks had arms and those arms pointed at the woman. Nelson Smiley stopped, stunned.

And then he went to his room and grabbed his shield and, without even gelling his hair, ran towards the flames and the loaf of bread.

"Maooooo!" the cat, who still had a little bit of left over poop on its face, said.

thephotobar said...

You gonna leave some room for us....geezz? :)