Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #18 September 2015 | Page 69

they had to be more advanced than us to get here in the first place, “Yeah... I do.” “They’re not cute,” I reiterated for the thousandth time. “These things are a menace.” I focused back on the road and grit my teeth as the rasping snore grew louder. It was hard for me to grasp that, even though they often caused accidents and appeared in people’s living rooms, bedrooms and bathrooms without warning, they were still adored by the masses. And worst of all, they were legally protected. The Alien Rights League, a group of bleeding heart tree-huggers, had lobbied and won them actual rights. No human outside of the Green Unit was allowed to touch them or disturb them in any way. If not for the problems their drunken teleporting caused, they would have free reign to do as they pleased. After a few moments of strained silence, Charlie succumbed to his incessant need for conversation, “I’ve always wondered about something since I was in the academy. I know we have to hold them in a low-oxygen environment for two days to sober them up, but I don’t really see how that helps. What is stopping them from just teleporting somewhere else when we let them go?” “Nothing,” I somberly replied, “The idea is that once they straighten up and become their nasty, aggressive, human-hating selves again, they’ll teleport back to their own planet. That’s the concept anyway.” “Do you believe any of the crap they say when they’re sober?” Charlie was referring to the endless tirades spouted from the little turds when they were forced into sobriety; they vehemently seethed about how they came here to take over the planet and enslave the human race. They boasted about weapons more powerful than mankind could contemplate and superior numbers of highly trained warriors, but it was hard to take them serious after seeing them stumbling around drunk and repeatedly soiling themselves. However, $)