“Can you tell me about the aliens?”
“Aliens? They were tall and brown,” I said. “Their skin looked like lava because their planet was hot and their bodies had adapted. Their eyes were empty and yellow. It was like they were full of vibrant nothing.”
“What was weirder,” I told her, “they spoke English.”
I had been up that night bear-spotting from my patio. The local news said there was a bear-sighting epidemic, so I thought it would be fun to get some recognition.
Local Writer Mauled by Local Grizzly.
Regardless, I always liked the sight of them. They had real world application in facing your fear of death. My father was getting old and the thought came to mind often about how I would deal with his eventual demise. Granted, because of him, I have been a pessimist my whole life and even when riding high on a successful book I thought death was imminent. I was trained well for the circus of life—replete with a Shriner hat.
When I was in elementary school I’d get off the bus and hug my dad and he’d say, “Don’t get too attached, Neil. I’ll probably be dead tomorrow.” Likewise, on any given Christmas, he would give me a gift and the label would read something like, “From your mother and aneurism-riddled father.” Apparently, neurosis runs in the family.
On the night the aliens came I didn’t see the bear; instead, a beam of light shot from the sky and into the clearing behind my house. There was a stillness about the premises and I gazed on in wonder, but then two forms emerged from the light and they waved energetically.
They said their names were Eebeat and Coleren, and they had come from a prism called the Seven. Their race had learned how to refract light to such a degree that they could aim the beam anywhere in space and transfer matter to a predetermined destination.
They froze me while I contemplated this cosmic notion, thinking how I could use this scenario in my newest book. The alien who called himself Eebeat took a long duck-billed rod and forced my head open just above my eyes. Coleran, meanwhile, brandished a knife for slicing brain matter, and cut one of my tender brain lobes. While they were doing this, Eebeat said, “That last writer really put up a fight. I’m surprised we made it out alive. I didn’t even have time to think about getting his brain with him waving that stick around.” Idle chit-chat as they performed surgery. Coleran removed the desired portion of my brain, and said, “I still made off with his pen set.” Both of them laughed.
At that moment, I would have just given them my pen set and sent them off with a couple of bagged lunches and a bottle of expensive wine. But their heart wouldn’t have been in it … just my brain.
“So long, Earthling,” Eebeat said. “You’ve been helpful.” Then he looked at me seriously. “We’re not sorry either, so don’t think we need this for some planet-saving reason and we just had to use your brain like a sacrifice for a greater good or something.” He smirked “You just happened to have some pretty wacky ideas that would sell, and we figured, ‘why not use them to get rich where we’re from?’ I mean, really, we were just going to show up and be friendly; take you aboard our ship and probe you?”
I was frozen but I gave the tiniest shrug.
“You’re a sucker, Neil,” Eebeat said. Coleran found this amusing, then gave me the finger. Snickering, they walked back to the beam of light and were absorbed, their particles sucked into the prism in a beautiful multicolored explosion, and they disappeared into space.
After I was unfrozen I checked my head. I ran my hand over an imagined scar and found no purchase. I tried to wrap my mind around what they had done, but instead found myself thanking the Gods for not letting them probe me. If they could open my head that far, surely they could have split my butt-hole open like the Krakatoa.
Frowning, I realized then that all of the ideas for my next book were gone. The creativity in my brain was gone. And Eebeat and Coleran had stolen them.
I looked into the stars again, noting the majesty of the universe: the twinkling stars, the faraway constellations, and the glimmering moon.
It was beautiful, but I could only evoke anger.
“Those guys were dicks,” I said.
