It's The Little Things

Author : Clint Wilson, Staff Writer

I sat there pondering my sorry lot in life, wondering aloud, in a slurry voice, as I sloshed my glass of merlot around, “Why have I befallen such, hic! …circumstances? I don’t deserve this, sniff! All I want to do is give Tommy a good Christmas.” Another swig went down and I stared at the glass evilly. “You! You bastard! It’s all your fault motherfucking alkee-hall!” Then I tipped back yet another swallow.

Just then, the invading ship from another star came in at an incredibly steep angle over my neighborhood, and its desperate crew was unable to pull up in time. They maximized their anti-inertia dampners and braced for impact.

My inwardly exploding ceiling knocked my glass clear from my hand and knocked me hard to the floor. I huddled there for a moment amidst the swirling bits of drywall dust and insulation, unsure of what might come next. I dared not open my eyes.

Inside the ship the officers gathered themselves quickly. “Damage report second-in-command. How is our cargo?”

The alien got to his feet and brushed off his view screen. “Not good sir. It looks like we didn’t engage the anti-inertia dampners in the aft section or cargo holds in time.”

The blue-skinned bipedal commander put a slender hand to his bulbous veined head. He already knew what this meant. “So they’re all…?”

“Squashed like Freckomite swamp tics sir.”

“All of them? Engineering? The Battalion?”

“Everybody sir. It seems that the bridge crew is the only thing left of this entire mission.”

“Six of us? That’s it? We’re supposed to conquer this planet with only six lowly Drachtonians?”

Meanwhile I ventured up from my living room carpet and slowly tried to assess the situation. As far as I could tell, things didn’t seem to be going well. My wine glass was shattered into shards. But then there was momentary hope as I spotted the fallen bottle but a few feet away. Snatching it up from its side I happily discovered a couple good slugs yet unspilled. As I tipped the vessel back I suddenly noticed the hole in my ceiling. Nearly two feet across, the edges still smoldered. What the? I then looked in the direction of most of the debris, and there on the couch I saw a kid’s toy. And unbeknownst to me, the invading race had already decided to proceed, despite their recent setback.

I saw the staircase drop down from the toy spaceship on my couch, but I rubbed my eyes just the same. Then I tried to cloud what I was seeing with another pull from the bottle, but the wine was nearly gone and the circumstances too bizarre now. And then as if I hadn’t seen enough, the tiny blue fuckers began descending the motherfucking stairs!

What was left of the Drachtonian crew stepped out onto the couch cushion and looked up at their adversary.

“They’re absolutely huge,” remarked the second-in-command.

“Never mind that,” said the commander shakily. “Stick to protocol!”

Then before anything else could transpire the front door burst open as my son Tommy came home from school.

But before he could squeeze through the doorway, our rottweiler Brutus ran past and up to the couch. With a single sniff he assessed the situation and then with one slobbery lick, swept up the invading race into his mouth and swallowed them whole.

Tommy looked at me sadly, knowing I was drunk yet again. Then he spotted the silver vessel on the couch. “Say dad, is that a… a spaceship?”

I brightened up and said, “Hey kiddo, merry Christmas!”