Alien on a Rampage

by Clete Barrett Smith

  She dropped the pie tin into the dish drainer and crossed the kitchen floor to me. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Now, don’t tell Tate this, but I’m actually glad he’s gotten me into this contest. I think it will be a real hoot.” She grinned and looked around, checking the kitchen for eavesdroppers. “But I don’t want to give Tate the satisfaction of knowing that I think he actually came up with a good idea for once.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” I said. “All your secrets. Promise.”

  I shifted the alien so I could use both arms to hold him. He had settled down since eating two big snacks—he might have even been asleep—and the deadweight was making my arms tired.

  “Well then, maybe I can let you in on another little secret.” Grandma grinned mischievously. She walked over to where another pie was cooling on the counter. “Try a taste of this.” She lifted out a slice and plopped it on a plate.

  “Okay…um, you did use sugar, right?” You could never be too careful when sampling Grandma’s cooking.

  “Didn’t need to. That’s part of the secret,” Grandma said.

  Uh-oh. Knowing her, she might have used anything to sweeten that dessert—raw molasses, condensed goat’s milk—anything.

  I covered up the little alien’s head with the quilt so he wouldn’t wake up and snatch any more food. Grandma got a forkful of pie and held it out to me. I closed my eyes, mentally prepared myself for the worst, and took a bite.

  “Hey…that’s actually pretty good,” I said. “I mean, that’s really good.”

  Grandma laughed. “Don’t act too surprised, now.” She scooped up some more with the fork and offered it to me. I finished the whole piece in three more bites.

  Grandma wiped off my chin with a paper towel. “It’s nice to know that someone other than an uninvited purple alien pet appreciates my baking skills.”

  I licked the last bit of pie filling from the corner of my mouth. I’m not real good at describing how things taste, but it had a deep sweetness with a little bit of tartness around the edges. “You know, I can honestly say I’ve never tasted anything like that,” I said.

  “I shouldn’t think so.” Grandma winked at me. “Unless maybe you’ve been doing some traveling to the planet Kernta in the Mahkker galaxy.”

  I suddenly became very aware of the pie’s lingering aftertaste. “Wait a minute…do you mean that you actually used…?”

  “I certainly did!” Grandma opened the fridge and took out a plastic bowl. “Sweet and juicy Kerntaberries. After a hundred years of tasting the same old apple pies and strawberry tarts, the taste buds on those Pioneer Day judges are liable to hop up and start dancing right on their tongues. I might be declared the undisputed winner all the way until the bicentennial gets here.” Grandma grinned at her own joke.

  “But isn’t that sort of like cheating?”

  “Now, David.” Grandma used an overly serious tone. “I’ve read over the baking contest rules three times now, and not once did I see mention of a ban on berries harvested on other planets. If something like that had been included, I promise I would have followed it.” She waggled her eyebrows and held the bowl up for me. “Try one. They’re good in the pie, but I like them even better plain.”

  I peeked into the bowl. The berries were fat, round, and so fluorescent pinkish-purple, they almost glowed. “I don’t know, Grandma…couldn’t that be, like, dangerous or something?” I leaned forward and sniffed at the alien berries. “And should you really be baking those up and serving them to the entire town of Forest Grove?”

  “Oh, come now, you’re starting to sound just like Tate. I’ve been eating these for ages—one of my returning guests always brings them as a gift.” Grandma grabbed a berry and popped it into her mouth. Then she stretched her arms out and twirled around on the kitchen floor tiles, the colors on her rainbow tunic swirling like a kaleidoscope. “And don’t I look healthy? Why, I can’t remember the last time I had anything worse than the sniffles. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I even had the sniffles. If anything, this will be good for the people of Forest Grove.”

  The door swung open, and that creepy ghost-faced alien in dark coveralls walked in. He stopped in the middle of the kitchen, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and then let out his breath with an aaahhhhhhh. “I have visited thousands of planets throughout hundreds of galaxies,” he said in that deep voice of his, “but never encountered such an enchanting aroma. Whatever can that be?”

  Grandma giggled. Actually giggled. “It’s my soon-to-be-award-winning pie recipe.” She nudged me with her elbow and nodded at the alien. “Scratchull here is my number one fan when it comes to my cooking.”

  Scratchull opened his eyes, swept up Grandma’s wrist in his bone-white fingers, and kissed her on the back of the hand. “Never were words more true.”

  Oh, please. Where was the Ego Monster from Planet Disdain that I had met in the shed yesterday?

  Grandma giggled. Again. I didn’t know which was worse: how he was acting, or the fact that Grandma was falling for it. I instinctively took a few steps backward. The air seemed colder around that guy.

  “Would you like to take a break and sample a piece, Scratchull?” Grandma said.

  “Indeed I would, madam. But I have much important work to do for you today. And, if truth be known, that smell is so intoxicating, I fear I would be unable to stop myself from devouring the entire dessert, serving dish and all.”

  Grandma grinned and shook her head. “Such a teaser, Scratchull.” She playfully swatted at his hand, which still held hers. “But that reminds me. Believe it or not, we had someone do that very same thing, just a moment ago. Maybe you can help us identify the little creature.” She motioned to the bundle in my arms.

  Up until this point, Scratchull had not acknowledged my presence in any way—had, in fact, not even glanced at me. But now he turned and sneered in my direction. “How may I be of service?”

  Grandma nodded toward me. “David’s holding a little extraterrestrial friend under there. Found him in the transporter this morning. We think he might be a pet of some kind—he’s friendly and hungry but he doesn’t speak.”

  Scratchull stroked his chin for a few moments. “Is it housebroken?”

  “Well, I guess we’re not sure yet,” Grandma said. “He’s only been here half an hour.”

  “I was referring to the earthling child.”

  Grandma giggled yet again. “Oh, didn’t I say he was a teaser, David?” I scowled at Scratchull, and he gave me a withering smile. “Earthling children get that figured out by the time they’re two or three years old,” she told him.

  “You must be so proud.”

  Grandma pulled back a corner of the quilt. “Maybe you could take a look at him? You might have seen one of these before. I know you to be a well-traveled gentleman.”

  “Indeed.” Scratchull lowered his head to have a look, but remained a safe distance away from the alien’s tongue range.

  “Do you recognize it?” Grandma asked.

  “I do. What you have there is a common snarffle,” he said to Grandma. “Domesticated household companion on several planets throughout the Axomedian galaxy.”

  “I’m assuming they’re safe, then. Tame?” Grandma said.

  “Yes, it’s harmless. The snarffle is a gentle creature by nature,” Scratchull said. “Tendency to be hyperactive, low IQ, short attention span.” He looked right at me. “You two should get along just fine.”

  I glared at him, but he was pretending not to notice me again.

  “Maybe you could take a look at the transporter in David’s room,” Grandma said. “I figure that either the little fella jumped into a transporter on his home planet and knocked into the buttons, or else there was a malfunction and his owners were sent one way and he went the other. Either way, his family is sure to be worried about him.”

  I didn’t like the thought of that pale-skinned alien in my room for any reason. I’d have to remove anything of value before
he went up there.

  “I would be delighted to help. At the moment I am on my way to assist your head of security with a task, but I shall move directly to the transporter as soon as I am finished.”

  “Thank you, Scratchull.”

  “Good day.” He gave a little bow and then left through the swinging kitchen door.

  “I tell you, David, I feel so fortunate to have found reliable off-world help,” Grandma said. “That Scratchull is—David, whatever is the matter?”

  I was glaring at the kitchen door, imagining all sorts of nasty things I’d like to say to him. “I just don’t like that guy.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I don’t know….He creeps me out. I don’t trust him.”

  Grandma gave me a funny look. “I must say, David, I’m surprised at this attitude. I thought you learned last summer to be more tolerant of those who are different.”

  “I did. I just…That doesn’t mean I have to like everybody.”

  Grandma frowned slightly. “I suppose not. But you just arrived, David. I do wish you would give everyone here more of a chance.”

  I considered pressing it, telling her all of the reasons that guy didn’t feel right, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. It’s not like I was going to change Grandma’s peace-and-love-make-the-cosmos-spin philosophy. And besides, there were times last summer when I was glad that she found the good in me even when I couldn’t find any there myself. “Okay. Whatever.”

  I shifted the quilt-covered bundle for a better grip. Grandma inclined her head toward the kitchen table. “Let’s sit down, shall we? Looks like he’s getting pretty heavy.”

  We sat at the table and munched on berries. I felt like Grandma thought I was being a jerk about Scratchull, so I tried to change the subject.

  “So, what kind of jobs do you want me to do around here this summer? Should I start out by helping you with the GRADE duties like last year, help get the Tourists disguised and ready to leave the B-and-B and mingle with the earthlings?”

  “Actually, Amy has that chore pretty much covered,” Grandma said. She scooped up a few more berries. “She’s updated the Your Vacation on Earth brochure to give potential visitors much more information, and then—”

  “She did? Really?”

  “Oh, yes. She had to wade through months of requests and red tape with the Interstellar Tourism Bureau, but she finally got it done. She’s tenacious, that one. And then she made a little self-service tutorial booklet for each Tourist when they get here. We still drop in and check out their disguises, of course, but it’s mostly to give them a quick personal greeting, see if they have any questions. It takes up much less time than it used to.”

  “And now you have more time to experiment with alien recipes and enter baking contests?”

  Grandma smiled. “Exactly. Isn’t it wonderful? I’m so lucky that you brought her into my life last summer. She’s perfect, David, just perfect. And she also helps me keep Tate in check”—Grandma lowered her voice—“although he has been surprisingly useful at times. But don’t ever tell him I said that.” I nodded and tried to smile back, but Grandma must have seen something on my face. “David…is anything else wrong, dear?”

  I shrugged. Remembering my semi-awkward interaction with Amy, I wanted to ask if maybe she had met someone else during the last school year. Someone else who happened to be a guy. Maybe someone taller and older and who knew almost as much about science and stuff as she did. But there was no way I was going to ask Grandma all of that.

  “I don’t know…I just want to be able to help you out. I know I made a few mistakes last summer, but I think I can be a good worker.”

  “Oh, David, of course you’re a good worker.” Grandma scooted her chair closer and offered me another berry. “It will just take a while for everyone to find their places with a new routine. And until then, you can have a chance to enjoy yourself. I worked you so hard last summer that I was worried you weren’t having any fun at all. You can actually have something like a real vacation this year.”

  I tried to smile. “Okay.”

  Grandma put her soft hands on either side of my face and tilted my head up a little bit until I was looking at her eyes. “And have patience with Amy, as well. I know she’s really been looking forward to having you come back. Sometimes it just takes a little while to get readjusted.”

  Hmm. I didn’t know if I trusted Grandma’s definition of “a little while” when it came to relationships. After all, she had been waiting over forty years for the alien dude who helped her set up the B&B to step out of one of those transporters and back into her life.

  But it was nice of her to say encouraging things about Amy, so I just nodded. “Thanks, Grandma.”

  “And how is everything going back home?”

  “Actually, pretty good,” I said. And I meant it. “Dad and I have had a lot of interesting conversations over the past year.”

  “I bet you have.” Grandma winked at me.

  “That reminds me. He gave me some instructions for this summer.” I fished a piece of notebook paper out of my pocket and unfolded it. “What does ‘Never go swimming with a Flibbinhooxle’ mean, anyway?”

  Grandma just looked puzzled for a second, then she threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, I had forgotten all about that!” She wiped laugh tears from the corner of her eyes. “Don’t worry, David. The Flibbinhooxles didn’t mean any harm. That was just a big misunderstanding.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Dad told me you’d say that.”

  A few weeks before I flew out, he had let me skip school so that we could hang out all day and have this big man-to-man talk about me coming back to the B&B. We went out to lunch and then he even took me fishing, which was cool, because we didn’t usually do that kind of thing, just the two of us.

  Anyway, I could tell he had spent a long time putting his instructions together. (It was certainly more coherent than the awkward birds-and-bees lecture he had come up with last year. And probably more useful.)

  I ran my finger down the list. “Okay, how about ‘Never turn your back on a Koogruu’? He underlined that one and put two stars by it. Sounds important.”

  “Why, no Koogruuians have visited here since…my stars, your father must have been in kindergarten. How does he even remember that?” Grandma shook her head. “Oh, well. They sent the nicest apology note afterward. No need to worry about them, either, David. Another misunderstanding is all.”

  Uh-huh. I think I was starting to understand what Dad meant when he said that Grandma’s tolerance of loony alien behavior was maybe the biggest danger I’d face out here. “She means well, David—always has—but she tends to just chalk everything up to Interstellar Culture Shock,” he’d said. “So it’s up to you to be the voice of reason out there. Keep your eyes open, okay?” I intended to do just that.

  Grandma took the list from me and scanned it, smirking and muttering to herself. “Well, it certainly sounds like sharing our little family secret has brought you two closer together.”

  “Yeah, we’ve definitely talked a lot more lately. It’s been good.”

  “I’m so glad.” Grandma handed back the instructions. “And your mother…? How has she been handling all of this?”

  “Um…she still doesn’t know. I think Dad figures she’d sort of freak out, you know? She’s pretty conservative about everything.”

  “Everything in good time.” Grandma patted me on the hand. “Maybe it would be best if they come with you to visit one summer. Seeing it up close seems to be the easiest way.”

  I nodded, but it was pretty hard to imagine my mom mingling with a bunch of aliens.

  The bundle in my lap squirmed. Just a little at first, but then it wiggled out of my grip, bounced up on top of the table, and started blindly nudging up against the bowl of berries.

  “Looks like someone is hungry again,” Grandma said. “I think he wants some of those Kerntaberries. Can you blame him?”

  “Should we give him some?”r />
  Grandma scooped out a handful of berries. I got a tight grip on the alien and then pulled back a corner of the quilt. First those wispy tendrils came out and sniffed at the air, and then his tongue shot out and slurped up the food in Grandma’s hand.

  She laughed and looked at her palm. “He’s got quite the slimy tongue, doesn’t he? And what an appetite for such a little thing.” She pushed the bowl closer to us. “He can have the rest. There’s more in the fridge for my next attempt at the award-winning recipe.”

  I picked up the little alien and held him over the table. His tongue dangled out of the quilt and lapped in and out of the bowl. In a few seconds he finished up the rest of the berries.

  “Well, David, since you’re looking for a job, I think we have your first one right here.” She gestured toward the purple alien.

  Great. Babysitting someone’s pet was not exactly the type of big, important job I was expecting this summer. But how could I tell Grandma that right after I’d asked how I could help out? “Yeah, okay.”

  “Why don’t you go around to the rooms and ask the guests if they are missing a pet?” Grandma said. “Now that I think of it, I suppose there’s a chance he was already at the inn and he ran into your bedroom and got stuck in the transporter by mistake.”

  “Sure.” That didn’t sound too bad.

  “If we come up empty there, then Scratchull can go ahead and take a look at the transporter,” Grandma said.

  I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. I wanted as little to do with that creepy skull-face alien as possible. But I had to admit, it might be worth it to get the hyper alien-pet home. I had a limited survival stash of candy, and when it was gone I would have to live entirely off Grandma’s cooking, and there’s only so much alienberry pie a guy can take.

  After an hour of knocking on guest-room doors and showing the little purple alien to the Tourists, I still hadn’t made any progress. He was starting to get frisky and all of the wriggling around made him harder to hold.