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, $)