The Day the saucers came…

They say a change is as good as a rest. Children slaving in Victorian mills twelve hours a day might have disagreed, but I write romances. I don’t crawl through machinery worrying about losing a limb or my life (though I suppose there’s still time – who knows what the future holds) so when I came across a challenge on Chuck Wendig’s blog to write a 1000 word story using one of three opening sentences he’d chosen from a previous challenge (I thought my sentence was the best – clearly he disagreed) I had to give it go. I picked the one I liked least and this is what I wrote… It’s a dialogue between two boys…

“Everyone else remembers it as the day the saucers came, but I remember it as the day a man in a suit shot my father…”

“Your old man was run over by a lawn mower. Suits and Saucers my ass…”

“Your ass is large enough to land a saucer on! I saw the man in the suit with my own eyes…”

“Your dad was pushed off the mower by that lady golfer because he came mowing out of nowhere and ruined her eagle. It was on the news. They even had footage of your dad’s head missing, at least it looked like it was missing. It might have been pressed into the grass. It was hard to tell with all the blood. The woman got ten years for aggravated assault. Aliens don’t show up at court wearing butt-ugly plaid pants.”

“I know what I saw. The shiny silver saucer hovered over the golf course like a big silver platter without any cheese and crackers and then landed on Mrs Cake’s golf cart. Do you think they served cake after her funeral?”

“How should I know? Mother wouldn’t let me go after I asked if Mrs Cake was as flat as a pancake.”

“As the shiny platter hovered a foot off the ground, a man in a black suit stepped out of the saucer and shot my father with an invisible ray gun. Father flew over the steering wheel and landed on the uncut grass in front of the blades. I was there. I saw the blood.”

“You weren’t there! You were in Geography failing to find Kansas City on a map of Kansas. There were no men in suits. There were no saucers. It was a freaking weather balloon with a dead kangaroo tangled in the ropes. Men in suits don’t ride weather balloons. Your story is a dead bore. No one wants to read about a James Bond clone landing a saucer so he can shoot golf course maintenance staff.”

“Men in suits driving fast cars? Yawn! Saucers are the future.”

“Saucers are the past. Saucer, sawcer, saw sir, saw her… It’s a stupid meaningless word.”

“Not as meaningless as your face.”

“My fat butt has more meaning than your boring face. Why do you think there was a kangaroo hanging off the weather balloon?”

“Duh! The aliens hovered over Australia and collected it. Aliens have to eat something. I’d rather they ate a kangaroo than Mrs Cake.”

“It’s just as well Mrs Cake died when that kangaroo fell on her cart. I heard her say once to Mr Pots that if she ever saw a snake fall out of the sky she’d die of fright. At least she was driving along thinking she was having a great day before she was squished to death.”

“If the weather balloon had picked up a snake instead of a freaking kangaroo she’d still be alive to make us cupcakes. Stupid kangaroo! Why couldn’t it be a snake? Snakes don’t crush golf carts.”

“An anaconda could crush a golf cart and eat a man in a suit. Do you want a piece of gum?”

“Thanks.”

“It is rather weird how your dad was mowed over and Mrs cake crushed by a kangaroo almost at the exact same moment on the same golf course.”

“The golf course is probably a Bermuda triangle…where space and time collide sucking space ships and golf balls into another dimension.”

“The Bermuda Triangle is in Bermuda. We’re in Kansas.”

“Same thing. This is where Dorothy followed the yellow brick road to Oz.”

“The yellow brick road was fiction. It never existed.”

“So they say! The Bermuda Triangle may be in one of the sand bunkers. I’m going to look for it after school. Are you coming”

“No. Don’t be surprised when you find yourself being carted off to Oz cemetery after you get hit in the head by a golf ball. I’m not dying to be buried in Oz. After seeing your dad mowed to death I’ll never be able to cut grass for a living. I’ll have to go to college and become a lawyer.”

“What sort of lawyer?”

“The kind that wears a suit. I’ll be rich and buy a silver Porsche. You’ll know it’s me. I’ll wave as I drive past.”

“You’ll park at the mall and step out of a silver saucer wearing a suit…”

“A Porsche is not a flying saucer.”

“It looks like a flying saucer if you squint. You’ll pull out your gun…”

“Why would I have a gun?”

“You’re a lawyer. You have to look mean so people will pay your blood-sucking bills. You point the gun at my heart and pull the trigger…”

“Why would I shoot you?”

“Because you can’t shoot my father.”

“Why would I shoot your dad? He mowed grass for a living.”

“You’re a lawyer. You envy his easy stress-free life.”

“The man was ran over by a lawnmower. Hardly a stress-free life.”

“His life was happy and easy before it was cut short. So you’ll shoot me instead because I have an easy life writing stories about men in suits who fly around having adventures in silver saucers.”

“How do I know where to find you?”

“You’ve had me watched. You know I always buy a UFO magazine on Thursdays.”

“Why Thursday?”

“I had a dream where Thursday was out to get me.”

“If Thursday was out to get you then its already got you. It can’t get you in the future.”

“It can if my killer arrives in a saucer from the Bermuda Triangle. You can’t avoid the future unless you don’t have a future. Everyone remembers it as the day the weather balloon dropped a kangaroo on Mrs Cake, but I remember it as the day my dad was mowed into his grave… No, I like my version better.”