Buttheads from Outer Space

by Jerry Mahoney

  IAmAWeenieBurger laughed so loud he farted again. “You humans really are so simple. Farts can be distinguished based on a complex assessment of pitch, tone, and duration. I should know. I studied fartguistics in buttiversary. Oh, plus they all smell different.”

  “You speak in smells?”

  “Yes! If I want to say, ‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, kind sir!’ the smell that comes out is like a combination of earwax and prune juice. FRRT!”

  “Ugh, nasty!”

  “Or if I want to say, ‘What a lovely planet you have here, Earthlings!’ I blast out a butt bomb not unlike an elderly middle school teacher’s perfume. FRRT!”

  Out came the worst stink known to humankind. It smelled exactly like my math teacher, Mrs. Schermerhorn. I started gagging, just like I did every time Mrs. Schermerhorn walked right by my desk. “How do you say ‘I think I’m going to throw up’?”

  “That one actually smells like warm cinnamon buns. FRRT!” In an instant, Lloyd and I were surrounded by the sweet odor of icing-drizzled baked goodness. I would never have guessed it was produced by an alien’s rear end.

  “Mmmm!” Lloyd said as he savored the scent.

  “You really are an advanced species!” I added.

  Doodoofartmama began farting excitedly. “FRRT! FRRT!” These were quick blasts that stank of seafood on burnt toast.

  “Shhh!” IAmAWeenieBurger scolded him. “You took the class on human behavior, too! First, we need to make small talk.” He turned toward us, trying to be casual. “So, did you see last night’s episode of that TV show we all enjoy?”

  “What’s he so excited about?” Lloyd asked, plugging his nose so he wouldn’t have to smell what Doodoofartmama was saying.

  IAmAWeenieBurger sighed. “He wants to talk about video games5.”

  “FRRT!” Doodoofartmama replied, hopping up and down. “FRRT! FRRT!” The seafood on burnt toast smell returned, even stronger.

  “OK, OK, we get it!” I said, fanning the air with my hand to clear out the stench.

  IAmAWeenieBurger stepped forward. “The last time we came to Earth was in your year 1984. We got really hooked on a game called Pac-Man. We heard he got married, and now there’s a Ms. Pac-Man!”

  “Oh, we’ve come a long way as a life-form since then,” Lloyd said. “Josh has the new PlayStation! Did you guys get that on your planet yet?”

  IAmAWeenieBurger shook his head, sadly. “We don’t have any video games on our planet.”

  “Dude,” Lloyd said. “What an awful place to live.”

  “But you guys are so much smarter than us,” I said. “You know how to fix things with your butts. How come you haven’t invented video games?”

  IAmAWeenieBurger sighed. “We’ve spent all our time working on space travel, curing diseases, and creating a sustainable environment. You humans, on the other hand, have focused on making weapons and games and drugs that cure baldness.”

  “Well, come over to Josh’s house!” Lloyd said. “You can play any game you want! He has everything!”

  “FRRT!” Doodoofartmama farted, cheering up.

  “Lloyd!” I whispered. “What about your house?”

  “No, it should be your house. You have better video games.”

  “But my parents would kill me! No one will even notice them at your house. There are so many people there, they’ll blend right in!”

  “But, Josh—”

  “But, Lloyd—”

  Without warning, two massive jets of dark blue fluid spouted from the alien’s eyes and shot across the bathroom, splashing me in the face. “Boo hoo hoo!” he whimpered. “I feel unwanted!”

  “Aw, Josh. How could you?” Lloyd said. “You made IAmAWeenieBurger cry.”

  “Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “But my parents really don’t like overnight guests.”

  “FRRT?” Doodoofartmama farted, wondering what was going on.

  “FRRT,” IAmAWeenieBurger explained, tearily. “FRRT FRRT FRRT.” Out came a soft, weak sputter that smelled like dried mud.

  “Waaaah!” Doodoofartmama bawled, and his eyes spewed out tears, too, washing over me like a downpour. I was drenched.

  “OK, fine!” I said, standing under the automatic hand dryer. “You can stay at my house. But my parents can’t know.”

  “Hooray!” IAmAWeenieBurger cheered. Then, he turned to Doodoofartmama to explain. “FRRT FRRT!” he said.

  Just as I stepped out from under the hand dryer, I was blasted by another tear tsunami. “Why is he still crying?” I asked, wringing the alien tears from my T-shirt.

  IAmAWeenieBurger sniffled happily. “Those are tears of joy,” he said.

  5 On page 251 we blog about all kinds of games, the video kind and the lamer kind, too.

  CHAPTER 5

  Lloyd promised he’d come up with a plan for how to get two aliens from the ladies’ room of Chop Socky to my house at 439 Elm Street without causing an international incident. He slipped out of the bathroom to investigate the area, and I was left babysitting the two overgrown space weirdos by myself while I awaited his instructions. Thankfully, Doodoofartmama was completely entranced by the hand dryer. He was using it to blow out his fur, emitting a strange humming noise as he stood underneath it. I think he may have been in love.

  “You have so many cool toys on your planet,” IAmAWeenieBurger said as he watched his friend geek out under the nozzle.

  I realized how easy it would be to impress him with all the stuff humans have invented. “That’s nothing,” I said. “Watch this!” I stuck my hands under the faucet, and the water automatically turned on.

  “Ah yes!” IAmAWeenieBurger said. “I was admiring your water dispensing device when you entered the bathroom.”

  “Yeah, the technology is pretty advanced,” I said. “I’m not sure you’d understand it.”

  He leaned down and inspected the sink. “Actually, it’s pretty obvious. When the infrared proximity sensor is triggered, it uses electromagnetics to open the solenoid valve, initiating the flow of water.”

  “Um, yeah,” I replied. “Something like that.”

  “Neat.” He patted me on the head.

  “I still can’t believe someone actually read our blog,” I said.

  “Well, we always clicked the ‘like’ button on your posts so you would know.”

  “So that was you? Cool!”

  “FRRT!” Doodoofartmama added, his flatulence reeking of envelope glue. His fur was all blown out from the hand dryer. He looked like a troll doll, albeit one with a butt on its head.

  “But wait,” I said. “All of our posts got four likes. If you guys were the first two, I wonder who the third and fourth likes were.”

  IAmAWeenieBurger shrugged. “I’m pretty sure they were not buttheads. Most of us have terrible netiquette. So tell me. How can we make you cooler than the donkey-butt jerk named Quentin?”

  “You’d really do that?” I couldn’t help smiling. Lloyd and I were going to be heroes. “First, let’s just worry about getting back to my house.”

  “Do you really think Lloyd will come up with a good plan?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “If there’s a way, Lloyd will find it.” I couldn’t imagine what he might come up with, but I knew it would be genius.

  A minute later, Lloyd was back, dragging a double stroller through the ladies’ room doorway.

  “Lloyd, where did you get that?”

  Lloyd shrugged. “This place keeps a whole bunch of ’em out front for their customers. It’s pretty cool of them.”

  “Those belong to people!”

  He shrugged again. “Then we’ll go fast.”

  “We can’t put the aliens in there!” I said.

  “Of course not,” Lloyd replied. “But we can put your ‘baby brothers’ in there. C’mon, guys!” He boosted Doodoofartmama into one side of the stroller. His tiny three-foot-tall frame was a perfect fit. He could totally have passed for my little brother.

  To someone who was compl
etely blind, at least.

  “Um, Lloyd, you don’t think anyone’s going to notice that my baby brothers are green and scaly and, um, cheek-headed?”

  “Not on such a chilly night,” Lloyd said. “They’ll be wrapped in their baby blankets.” He took a couple of blankets out of the bottom of the stroller. They had pictures of trains and rubber duckies on them, along with lots of spit-up stains. “Here, guys. Get cozy.” Lloyd handed the blankets to the aliens, and they started wrapping themselves up.

  “But how will I get them into the car? I don’t have the keys.”

  “Please!” Lloyd said. “Like I’ve never pickpocketed before?” He held up my dad’s keys proudly and tossed them to me.

  “You are right,” IAmAWeenieBurger said. “He is a genius!”

  “FRRT!” Doodoofartmama agreed.

  “It’s a good plan, Lloyd,” I said. “But while I’m pushing the stroller, what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to create a distraction so you can sneak out.”

  “How?” I said.

  “I’ll need your phone.” I handed over my iPhone, then Lloyd ducked back out the bathroom door to get to work.

  I strapped Doodoofartmama and IAmAWeenie-Burger into the stroller, making sure they were fully covered up with the blankets. Then, I pulled the canopies down as low as I could over their heads. I had to admit, they were a little big for babies, but no one would ever have known that they were anything but human underneath. Satisfied, I took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

  I could hear Lloyd making a commotion, and by the time I got to the lobby I could see him standing at the front of the dining room. He had put a chef’s hat on his head and was commanding everyone’s attention.

  “Thank you for coming to Chop Socky tonight!” he said, as if he actually worked there. “We have a very special birthday we want to celebrate. Stand up, Mrs. Tomita!”

  He pointed across the room at Kaitlyn Wien-Tomita’s grandma. When she realized everyone was looking at her, she scowled angrily and said something in Japanese. Kaitlyn seemed to think it was awesome that someone was embarrassing her grandma, so she started encouraging her to stand up.

  “Oh, don’t be shy now!” Lloyd said. He strode up beside her and helped Mrs. Tomita to her feet. “To celebrate this special day, let’s all dance to Mrs. Tomita’s favorite song from her youth.”

  The next thing I knew, Lloyd was blasting an old school jam sung in Japanese from my iPhone.

  The confused grandma gazed around her as everyone boogied in her honor. My parents, the bartender, even Hiroshi was joining in. Kaitlyn whipped out her camera and started recording. No one was looking in my direction, so I pushed the stroller out the front door. Finally, Kaitlyn’s grandma gave in and joined the party.

  As the door closed behind me, I realized that what Lloyd had succeeded in getting everyone in the restaurant to dance to was not this woman’s favorite childhood song. It was probably just the first hit on YouTube for “1950s Japan dance music” or something like that. But he fooled everyone else and charmed Mrs. Tomita into playing along. He had done his part. Now I just had to get these aliens into my parents’ trunk.

  That’s when I saw the other strollers lined up outside the restaurant. There was a whole stroller parking area, beside the waiting bench and the pillar of sand that people stub their cigarettes out on. It was then that I first considered the fact that whoever owned this stroller might actually come looking for it.

  A police officer walked toward me. Was he coming to get me? Oh, God. I was a criminal now! A stroller thief! My heart started racing and I stopped short, ready to stick my arms out for the officer to slap handcuffs on. But as he got closer to me, the cop actually smiled. “Aren’t you a good big brother?” he said, and he passed by me with a wink.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and shoved the stroller over the curb onto the asphalt. I didn’t want to take any chances now. I had to hurry. I could see my dad’s Mini Cooper, just two rows over. I was almost there. I was almost free. Then, I heard a voice.

  “Oh, let me see the little sweetie pies!”

  It was an old lady6 with a walker. I’m never good at guessing people’s age, but I’m pretty sure she was at least a hundred and fifty. She had glasses so thick they made her eyes look like flying saucers floating above her head. Her hair was curly and white, and the look on her face said she thought I was just the cutest thing ever.

  “I really need to go,” I said. I tried to push past her, but she blocked my way with her walker.

  “How old are they?” she asked.

  “Um . . . sixty-eight months?” I said. I knew parents always talked about their kids’ age in months, and it wasn’t until I spat the number out that I realized I had just told this lady there were two five-year-olds in this baby carriage.

  “Twins?” she gushed. Thankfully, she was no math whiz.

  “Uh-huh,” I nodded.

  “Identical or fraternal?” she asked.

  I knew those were two kinds of twins, but I wasn’t sure which answer would make this woman go away faster.

  “Um, both?” I said.

  “What?” she replied. Apparently, that was not an acceptable answer. I was totally busted. I had to think fast. I decided to do what Lloyd always did when he was in danger of getting caught: change the subject.

  “How many grandkids do you have?”

  It’s a can’t-fail plan with old ladies. Get them talking about their grandkids, and you’re home free. You can zone out for the next hour, and they’ll still be talking. Soon, she was telling me all about Brandon’s yellow belt in tae kwon do and the three goals Miley scored in soccer last week, as if I actually knew these people and cared about their accomplishments.

  I slowly began to back up. Maybe I could slip away without her even noticing I was gone.

  Sure enough, she kept talking, moving on to other subjects. Disrespectful teenagers, arthritis, rap music. She was actually able to rant about two things at once, like social security and swearing in movies. “I paid into that system for fifty years, so they’d better not cut my funds, and I don’t understand why they can’t use nice language anymore!” she said. It was impressive, really. She was old lady-ing on a very advanced level.

  “Where are you going?” she said finally, when I had made it about two car lengths away from her.

  “My brothers are tired,” I said. “I really need to get them home.”

  “Aw,” she said. “Little angels. Just lemme get a li’l peek at their precious li’l faces.” She clattered closer to me with her walker. I knew she’d scream if she took off the blankets and found herself face-to-butt with an alien’s rear end crack.

  “That’s not a good idea!” I warned, but she ignored me and started leaning down toward Doodoofartmama. There were at least a thousand ways I could’ve stopped her. I could’ve tackled her or turned and run. I could’ve called for the police or told her to mind her own darn business.

  I just hate to make old people sad. She was so nice. Where was Lloyd when I needed him?

  I closed my eyes and braced myself as she reached her wrinkled old fingers down and tugged at the blanket covering Doodoofartmama’s face. Then, just as it was about to fall off and reveal his scaly green complexion, he farted.

  “FRRRRRRRRRT!” he blared.

  “Oh my!” the old lady giggled. “Sounds like he’s a little busy! Better leave him to his business.”

  She backed away from him, and I breathed a sigh of relief, but just for a second.

  “Let’s see his brother instead,” she said. She reached toward IAmAWeenieBurger, and I cringed.

  That’s when I heard a voice coming from the back of the stroller. “The senior discount ends at eight p.m.,” it said.

  “Oh, phooey!” the old lady shouted. “Gotta go!” She wheeled around, lifted her walker, and scooted as fast as her legs would go toward the restaurant.

  I sighed in relief. “Nice work, IAmAWeenieBurger,” I said.
>
  “I told you I speak every language on your planet,” he replied. “Even old lady.”

  Thankfully, there was no one else between me and my dad’s Mini Cooper. I popped the trunk and squeezed my extraterrestrial stowaways in, hiding them underneath the reusable shopping bags.

  “Is this the part of your vehicles you ride in?” IAmAWeenieBurger asked me as he fumbled clumsily to fold his arms inside the trunk.

  “No, but this is the part you ride in,” I explained. “Sorry. Will you be OK in here?”

  “No problem,” IAmAWeenieBurger assured me. “We will simply go number four.”

  “Number four?”

  “Oh, right. I forgot you humans only have two ways to go to the bathroom.”

  “How many do you have?”

  “One hundred and forty-two. Some are just for special occasions.”

  “Whoa!” I’d never felt so ashamed of my species and how much evolving we still had to do.

  I wanted to ask what number four was, but then I saw a woman wagging her finger at me from the restaurant’s front door. “There it is!” she wailed. She held two babies in her arms. “What are you doing with my stroller?” she demanded.

  Kaitlyn was just leaving the restaurant when she saw this going down, so she took out her camera to catch the scene, as I quickly slammed the trunk shut. “I— I—” I stammered.

  The woman was furious. “Thief!” she yelled. “THIEF!”

  I couldn’t move. All I could do was stand there looking guilty and thinking about what a horrible person I was. I had stolen this woman’s stroller, after all. So much for my near-perfect track record as a good citizen.

  I was about to confess everything, when my mom came out of the restaurant looking for me. “Josh?” she said, as she spotted me, red-faced, about twenty feet away.

  “Is this your son?” the angry mom asked. “I caught him trying to steal my stroller!”

  I cringed, wondering how my mom might react. Would she burst out crying because her son was a criminal, or would she scream at me first? Instead, she did neither.

  “How dare you!” she shouted at the angry mom. “To accuse my son of something like that, on his birthday, no less! Now, I don’t know what the story is here, but I can assure you my son did not steal your stroller. My son doesn’t do bad things. Before you make accusations like that, you should give him a chance to explain.”