An out-of-this-world writing assessment
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By DERON SNYDER
The writing assessment offered a choice, either 500 words on my favorite memory (too hard to pick one), or 500 words on …
IF I WOKE UP SURROUNDED BY ALIENS
If I woke up surrounded by aliens, I like to think my first thought would be: “OK. Just play it cool.”
My fear is I’d freak out and cause a scene, drawing unwanted attention from creatures that might crave my innards. So, let’s imagine I’m successful in keeping my face and mouth from screaming WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON?!
I’m in shock but I don’t show it. I look around and act normal while I assess. That isn’t Vanessa and those aren’t the girls – though they’re rather good likenesses. Thank God they speak English, so language isn’t a barrier. They don’t act like I’m alien to them, and I play along.
Because, you know, they might turn Hannibal Lector and suddenly want some sauteed brain.
I wonder if these things are only at my house. I start to dial my brother-in-law Mike but stop. No, revealing my alarm would be a giveaway if HE’S an alien, too. So, I head out, tell the family I’m going to the store and they can text if they want something.
As I’m driving, everyone in cars around me seems pretty regular. What am I even looking for, costumes? Antennas? Green skin?
If I were an alien, I’d be like them in “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” They looked and sounded like the people they replaced. I know the same actors played each human and alien, but it’s the principle. I wouldn’t be surprised if the most advanced aliens can produce something close to our body doubles. Absolutely they probably can.
Browsing the aisles, I grab a few items and reach a conclusion. This scrit is really happening. These former peapods carry themselves like real humans, walking around and buying stuff they don’t need. But they don’t fool me. Why would only MY wife and daughters be replaced?
I jump in the car and head to the ballpark, where it’s the first inning of a day game. Damn these things multiplied quick! The fans, the ushers, the beer vendors, everyone – all of them are aliens. Even the players. They expertly replicate baseball’s requisite mannerisms, spitting, tugging, and readjusting.
Turns out to be a great game. The home team rallies to win in the ninth. As I exit the stadium, I’m shoulder-to-shoulder with thousands of aliens. We’re doing that shuffle-shuffle slow walk you’re forced to do in a moving crowd. (I wish I had a facemask because we’re super close, but fingers crossed.) As usual, traffic is a mess upon leaving the lot.
I pull into my garage and sit for a moment, continuing to wrap my head around everything. My phone buzzes and I see a missed text. It was sent hours ago when I was shopping at the store. “Hi honey. We need bread.”
Thankfully, I bought a loaf. The phone buzzes again. It’s a new text from Vanessa, with a winking face. “Hurry home and see my new lingerie.”
I head inside. Life surrounded by aliens won’t be so bad after all.
