“Oh shit, it’s coming back!”

David Morris

Write about an alien (or a dog) in a car wash.

 

Don’t limit yourself unnecessarily! Respond to the photo, the words, something either the words or the photo made you think of, or something else entirely. Write whatever is on your mind.

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1 Comment

  1. “What’s wrong with Vrglrx? He’s just rocking in the corner.”
    “Exoskeleton shock.”
    “From scouting that squishy meat world?”
    “Creative tentacled lies…” Vrglrx muttered his way out of the room. “I remember,” he indicated with a single barbed fore-limb gesture to a nutrient dispensery that he knew what it had done to its own grandma. He scuttled in the direction of the pod bay.

    He had given his report to the Spiniest Three the rotation prior. Described the threat this abject terror of a world posed. How these seemingly squishy meat-puppets treated visitors.
    He had been placed in a coffin of metal and glass, he claimed. Seated next to a horrible primate-descended female who piloted this awful enclosure while horrendous sounds of what he could only imagine to be the screams of the damned were fired from vibrating magnetic cannons at his auditory membranes from all directions. He heard the monkey-woman call it “pop” at one point. Clearly designed to burst the exoskeletons of more proper life-forms. But he had endured this assault, unknowing of the next to come.
    The mobile metal coffin trundled into a line of others, waiting patiently for something he could not see inside a rectangle built of pulverized stone that had been reconstituted. He wondered what kind of horrors would need to be contained in such a fortress rather than simply housed in an inflated hive-matrix but even his wildest imaginings could never prepare him.
    As this death-canister crossed the threshold it became clear, the purpose of this place. He was to be fed to an enormous tentacled beast. Its gaping mouth-feelers slapped his prison, so menacing a sound it was that he could not retain his composure. Over and over, the vile creature tasted his fear with its taste-barbels, so elated it was at the thought of devouring this container of poor innocents that its mandibles foamed with glee.
    Vrglrx could take no more when this creature swallowed the container and began spewing digestive slurry from all directions, over and over. He could only assume that these sacrifice canisters were equipped with transparent viewing windows solely so the condemned could witness their own slow destruction.
    The monkey-female was even making her humor-sound. To see humor in such a fate, that was the final brugstalk. Vrglrx had to activate his beacon and hope that this creature’s digestive tract was not constructed of materials to prevent escape by teleportal.

    Vrglrx finally found his way to the pod registry. He could not face such failure. He could not abide such a terrible thing as this “Dav’scar VVasb” to exist anywhere in the known galaxy. He signed out a destructopod and returned days later, victory chattering from his mandibles.

    Meanwhile, a small earth child asked its mother… “Mommy, what happened to Dave’s Carwash?”
    “I’m not sure sweetheart, one day it was there, and the next it was replaced by a mile wide smoking crater. We’ll probably never know,” said the mother, then added with a devilish grin, “But I bet it was aliens!”

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