Little Green Alien
Arcades are fun. They have so many different games. There are games where you roll hard solid balls, push buttons, pull levers, and throw bouncy air-filled balls. All these games are really entertaining for the few minutes you play them. But at the end when you collect the tickets, each game eagerly spits out at you, that is when the real joy hits and builds game after game. I don’t look at the number of tickets I have won on the game’s screen. Instead, I stare eagerly at the line of tickets exiting the machine. After all, once I leave the machine and the ticket number is no longer in sight, I can still count the tickets in my hand as many times as I want further raising my excitement. This excitement is all based around the mysterious item or items I will walk away with at the end of my day at the arcade. My final stop will be at a counter with various items displayed ranging from 5 tickets to thousands.
When the money on the card I use on the games is empty. I gather all my tickets and feed them to a ticket counter. This process is quite frightening as the ticket counter grabs the tickets very aggressively, stealing them from your small hands. And one might hope that the ticket counter doesn’t get jammed and be surprised by terrible grinding and screeching. But once all the tickets have disappeared a single paper note is delivered with the total of the tickets. This note is like a ticket to heaven for a child like me. Who doesn’t want to know that their hours spent arcading paid off? Now I have access to a small store that I can pick various items from in a way that I couldn’t outside of this arcade.
I step right up to the counter already picking out what I want. The paper note is submitted, and I begin to rattle off my list. Ten pieces of candy, five aliens, two bracelets, and five pencil top erasers. My family and I leave, and I begin eating the candy and analyzing my aliens. In the car I place all five aliens in my lap. They are all green, they all have a different body position holding different things. My favorite one is holding a burger and wearing overalls. Each alien came with a nicely packaged parachute. I unbound my favorite alien’s parachute and throw him around in the car trying to get him to float. With little success I wait until I am at home in my room.
In my room I get my hamburger carrying alien to float for a few seconds at most and then leave him on the floor where he last landed for the night. Having become really attached to him, I bring him with me everywhere. I realized that I couldn’t keep his parachute on, so I decided to remove it. I cut off his little green circle that held his parachute to his head. I loved him even more like this. He was so small, he fit in my jean pockets and purse. His little feet could balance his weight and keep him standing so I often set him up in front of me on my desk so we could make eye contact while I did homework or arts and crafts. Eventually, I tried to customize his overalls with permanent markers, and he stood out from all the other aliens, who still had their parachutes attached, some with them still folded.
I played with him from when I woke up to when I went to bed, up until I lost him. He wasn’t in my bed sheets, underneath the bed, in or around my desk, the closet, the drawers, and the bathroom. That day I searched and searched for him. When it was time to sleep, I cried silently to myself, because I had lost my most treasured possession. I cried myself to sleep. The next morning, I looked and looked again. Then I notice an abnormal feeling in my throat. It feels like there was food stuck in my throat. I immediately began to wonder if I accidentally swallowed my alien. I start freaking out. If I couldn’t find him anywhere else and he is small enough to swallow, then that might be him stuck in my throat. I could imagine him pressing on the sides of my throat with his burger in his right hand and his open left hand. This idea overwhelms me. I rack my brain for my actions before I lost him.
Two nights before he was in my hand when I went to sleep, and thus it is entirely possible that I could have brought my hand to my mouth and swallowed him. It has also been a day and having eaten more than once he couldn’t be in my throat today. But he may have been in my bed and I found him last night with my hand and then threw him in my mouth. All these thoughts were driving me crazy. I just want to determine if I swallowed him or not.
Then I feel the lump in my throat move. A dull pain on one side of my throat, then the other, and then back. I quickly ran to the mirror to see if there was something moving along my neck skin. I couldn’t see anything; the lump was too small. It was getting close to the back of my mouth, so I checked it in the mirror, tilting my head back. My eyes start tearing in fear of what could be crawling around in my throat and from the anticipation of having to gag. At first it is difficult to see my throat and then I see a tiny green burger appear. I gag and spit out the lump and find that the sink now holds my little green alien. He is lying face down. Without blinking I stare at him looking for any movement whatsoever. And then he turns over. He moves comically, because he isn’t shaped efficiently for moving. But he scares me. That little green alien crawled out of my throat. I wonder if he had crawled in while I was sleeping. Before he could escape, I take my tweezers and grab him and trap him in a Yankee candle and screw on the lid. I feel that he is dangerous. His eyes never blink or show any emotion, so I decide to melt him.
I microwave some crayons in a paper cup and pour him into the cup from the candle container, he sinks into the crayon liquid. The whole mixture is microwaved a few more times at 15 second intervals, checking for his solid body at the bottom with a wooden skewer. Eventually, a bright green liquid appears at the top of the crayon mixture and I no longer feel anything hard at the bottom. I let the whole mixture solidify and then throw it in the trashcan, confident that he would not have another chance to scare me again.
I run upstairs to and check on the other four aliens. They remain where I last put them, but not taking any chances I bag them in Ziploc bags and wrap a rubber band around the zipper part to make sure they couldn’t get out and throw them in the trash as well.
© 2019 C L Whisper