Author: David Sydney

Cupping his eyes, squinting, Ed pointed to the sky with his free hand.
“Up there, Edna… Is that a bird?”
“It’s not a bird, Ed.”
“Is it a plane?”
How many times did she have to tell him it wasn’t a bird or plane?
“Stop it, Ed. It’s not a plane.”
In their small backyard, Edna could be near her garden with its petunias and cherry tomato plants. Ed had his outdoor chaise lounge and above-ground pool. Typically, Edna enjoyed the outdoor experience more than Ed. The pool was dented. Its water needed to be changed badly.
“Don’t tell me… It’s not Superman, is it?”
“Okay, I won’t tell you, Ed.”
After 42 years of marriage, there were some things she didn’t need to tell him.
Her straw hat shaded her eyes, so she could get a better view of the heavens, from which, it is said, comes all help. But on that Saturday morning the only help, if it could be called that, was just another UFO.
“It’s just a damned UFO, Ed.”
“Did you have to say that, Edna?”
She knew he was hoping for a bird or a plane. Fat chance either would be around when the UFO was up there, over their backyard with its uneven brick patio, Ed’s failed attempt at home improvement 15 years before.
And Superman? Where was he when they needed him?
No, it would be another Saturday. Edna, who was such an avid bird watcher, had no birds to see. Ed, who enjoyed the occasional plane and vapor trail, wouldn’t enjoy either that Saturday.
And Superman? He preferred not to look at Ed, with his rounded stomach, stretched out on the chaise lounge next to the pool.
That was the difference between Superman and the aliens who kept returning in the UFO that resembled a sausage with lights strung around its sides. In their exploration of the Milky Way galaxy, they had never seen in such a compact space anything quite like Ed, his stomach, his rusted chaise, his pathetic patio, and the stagnant above-ground pool.