Ostomy Memories of an Alien

Everyone knows that when aliens come to our planet, they always land in some desolate place like Roswell, New Mexico or Yucca Flat in Nevada. When I lived in Utah, the vast wilderness called the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument was in my very backyard and, one day, while wandering out there with a daypack and a hiking pole, I heard a sudden noise behind me, like air being sucked out of one of those liter-sized plastic soda bottles, and then I got the fright of my life. It was a spacecraft just like those in the early Fifties scary movies. It was even black and white like in those movies and it came to rest about forty yards from where I stood frozen in my tracks.
The alien that hopped out when the door opened sure wasn’t in black and white though. He was a little guy that looked as if he’d spent the summer lying out on some Gulf beach. His skin (if that’s what it was) had the color of well-tanned leather. His eyes were mere slits in his ovoid head and his mouth was really tiny. He pulled out this gizmo and plugged it into his mouth as he moved toward me. It must have been some sort of transliterator because when he spoke, it came out in kind of a wheezy, mechanical English.
“I won’t hurt you Earthling,” he said. “I just want to talk with you.”
We ended up sitting in the only shade around, under a red rock canopy that jutted out from a sheer wall.
“Do you have any questions for me?” he asked. And thus began our brief interview. I won’t include it all here, only the most interesting parts.
“Why have you come to Earth?” I wondered.
“We come to your planet about once every 50 to75 of your years just to check and see if you are still warring against each other. Unfortunately, you always are. Sometimes there are a number of wars going on at one time.”
“How come you always seem to land out here in the desolate west?”
“It’s the safest place for us to come down. We can’t go anywhere near a war zone, of course. We can’t land in the highly populated areas for fear some street gang or crazed bunch of Trump-inspired rightwing nutjobs will attack us. Besides, the people that live out west are used to seeing our space ships, as they call them.”
“Why are you interested in us?”
“We have a pool going on our planet Xerpes as to when human life on Earth will become extinct. I’ve got the year 2106. Plus, I’m writing an article for the Xerpian Tribune about your global warming. Our instruments detected it long ago.”
“Does your planet have political leaders like we have?”
“Oh no! How do you think we’ve survived for so many quatrares? Our system evolved away from that many quasars ago. Now we have only our BBD. He has led Xerpes for as long as anyone can remember.”
“BBD?” I asked him.
“Oh, sorry. Our Beloved Benevolent Dictator.”
“What other things about Earth interest you?”
“Your planet provides Xerpians with an unending supply of entertainment. Aside from the constant warring, there are the non-lethal wars. I believe that you people refer to it as sports. Then there are the various religions and the different versions of what Earthlings call God. Your terrified insistence on there being some sort of afterlife is a primary source of humor to Xerpians. Why can’t Earthlings just accept that death is the end of it? You’d think that, with all the wars and killings that go on here, you’d at least come to realize that there’s no such thing as an afterlife. The idea of heaven and hell is one of the most amusing Earth concepts I’ve ever heard.” He laughed heartily, then stood up and started back toward his spacecraft.
“Sorry I can’t stay and chat longer,” he said, looking back over his little, rounded shoulder. “If I’m late getting home, one of my wives will eat all of my licorice.”
In a flash he disappeared into his machine and there was a loud spray of dust and, when it cleared, he was gone. I have to admit that I couldn’t help wondering if I hadn’t hallucinated the whole episode, like some kind of bizarre LSD trip or heatstroke phenomenon. I poured the remainder of my water over my head, stepped over a strange piece of metal that looked as if it had fallen off an odd mechanical device, and headed home.

Is there a part two? What did you do with the metal device? Do you still have it?

<p><br />I use the metal device for a door stop.&nbsp; It beeps every once in a while.</p>

Good one.

So.........way back when you lived in Utah......the aliens were scared of "Trump inspired rightwing nutjobs"?Me thinks your tale has a slight timeline inconsistency..........unless Trump Derrangement Syndrome was prevalent even way back then. It WOULD certainly explain some things.

Oh wait......I just thought of something. Way back then........Trump was a Democrat!So you're right, I appologize. You just got your terrorists names mixed up......it would have been Left-wing nutjobs.....like BLM. Ok, got it!May the Force Be With You, grasshopper!

;0)

Bob

<p><br />FYI, I left Utah in 2018.&nbsp; But I've had TDS since he descended the escalator in 2015 in front of the crowd that was reportedly paid fifty bucks each to be there.</p>

Hello HenryM.
I do enjoy your renderings of ostomy memories, as they have a ring of 'reality' about them on so many levels.
You begin your piece with: "Everyone knows that when aliens come to our planet, they always land in some desolate place like Roswell, New Mexico or Yucca Flat in Nevada", which I find quite interesting because they are all places in the USA.
This statement triggered many memories of my visits to the USA, where I and my fellow travellers were labelled as ‘aliens’ and seemed to be treated as such. It was as if we were all in some great hostile conspiracy to take over the world, or at least this part of the world that we happened to land upon at that time.
The last time I travelled across ‘the pond’, the hostility from border staff was so intense and insensitive, that I, and many of my fellow travellers vowed we would not travel in this direction again.
I have subsequently been several times the other way around the earth, stopping off in both Hong Kong and Singapore. What a complete difference that was! The staff were so pleasant and welcoming, and there was no labelling us as ‘Aliens’.
Now, so as not to give the impression that my perception of all Americans reflects that which was portrayed at the border. I have on many occasions visited the USA for both business and leisure. Once past the border, I found almost all the people I met as being kind, friendly and helpful, with no hint of treating me as if I might be from another planet.
That is, with one pleasurable memory, which I will share with you, when I entered a bank in Philadelphia to cash a cheque.
The young cashier (everyone seems young nowadays!) was exceptionally pleasant but kept me talking about the reasons for my visit for a longer time than I would have expected. The next thing I knew, was that a couple of other staff had joined us in this conversation and, whilst I might have been tempted to delude myself that my conversation may have been riveting, I was beginning to be concerned that there was some question as to whether the cheque I was presenting was somehow not acceptable. I asked the cashier the straightforward question: “Is there something wrong with the cheque?” She (and her colleagues) became somewhat embarrassed and replied that the cheque was ‘fine’ and they were sorry to have kept me talking but they did not get many Englishmen in their bank and were fascinated by my accent.
I suppose this is as close as it gets to being an ‘acceptable-alien’.
Having explained that I, and several of my English colleagues, were giving presentations at their university, I suggested that they might like to come along and revel in the ‘English- accents’ available for only a few days, while the international conference lasted.
We parted on amicable terms and a couple of days later I returned home on my reserved, low-level space-flight with British Airways.
Best wishes
Bill

<p>From your story, one would think that Americans in border security positions take their cue from the current (and thankfully outgoing) president's xenophobia.&nbsp; If your trips here predated him, then perhaps we have a clue as to how he happened to get as much support as he did.&nbsp; It pains me to think that so many Americans have such narrow perspectives.&nbsp; In many ways, we have become a dumbed down populace, sorry to say.<br /><br /></p>

Hey Henry, this one is terrific! Great piece of work. I think we might have a difference of opinion though as to where these aliens hang out. I spent time with some of them in New Jersey. I usually met them in gin mills (Pubs in Bill's town) and after several shots of Seagram’s and a few Buds (pints to Bill) they seemed to express themselves a lot like some of the guys I worked with. They didn’t look like your aliens; mine disguised themselves to be mostly white middle aged kinda educated guys who, when they couldn’t defend their behavior would quote from one of our bibles.
I’ll tell more later, maybe.

Mike