How Kevin Foiled the Alien Invasion of Earth

A short tale for Miranda Kate’s Midweeker, riffing off the picture below, after I noticed the creature at the top hiding his eyes.


Auschwitz by Anton Semenov“Kevin—”

“No!”

“Just look up at the lens.”

“NO!”

“Kevin, we all agreed.”

“You lot agreed, Susan, I didn’t.”

“If you’ll just look up at the lens, we can finally get out of here.”

“What, and have my eyeballs sucked out like yours? Fat chance.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“It makes a nauseating sound, though, like somebody pulling a grape out of their nostrils. I don’t understand why they need my eyeballs, anyway. They have all of yours already, what difference would mine make?”

“The Voice Above said they needed forty pairs or they couldn’t take off.”

“Take off what? Our heads?”

“Their ship. They use human eyeballs to drive their starship.”

“Do they bollocks. Where are you getting all this?”

“I had a quiet word with The Voice Above. He told me. We had quite a nice chat, actually.”

“What? When was all this? We’d all have heard you.”

“You know when they lift us out of here sometimes and, like, probe us and stuff?”

“Oh yeah, I enjoyed that.”

“Well, it was then. I was all manacled down, having my orifices probed, and … we had a little natter.”

“What a lovely image. Nice. So when’s the wedding? ‘I, Susan, take thee, Voice Above…’”

“I’ll ignore your sarcasm about what was a very touching moment, actually. The point is, eyeballs make their space-engine work…”

“How you can say that with a straight face is beyond me.”

“… and once they’re off this planet they’ll set us all free and look after us properly.”

“And you believe that, do you?”

“After someone’s probed me I think I know whether I can trust them.”

“You’re so naive, Susan.”

“Oh shut up, Kevin. You’ve had your chance to be reasonable. Grab him, fellers! We’ll force him to look at the lens.”

“Ha ha! Sod off!”

“Shit, where’s he gone? Damn it, Kevin!”

“Can’t catch me!”

“He’s ducked down by your feet, the squirmy little bastard. Grab him, someone!”

“Oh dear, you missed again! If only you were able to look down, eh?”

“Damn, he’s like a kid in a ball pool. Kick him in the head or something!”

“OW! Ow, fucking AAAAARGH!”

“Wait, wait! Don’t kick his eyes, though!”

“Too fucking late, you bitch! Jesus, that hurts! I hope your boyfriend’s happy with thirty-nine pairs of eyes.”

“Oh, Kevin.”

“S’not fair.”

About wombat37

A Yorkshireman in the green hills of Lancashire, UK Not a real wombat, obviously, or typing would become an issue. I do have short legs and a hairy nose, however. Oh, & a distinctive smell.

Posted on May 22, 2019, in fiction, Five-minute read, science fiction, Short story, story, Writings. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Riffing eh? Bit of a trendy word there!

    Nice quirky little tale. I love the image of someone pulling a grape of a nostril and the sound it would make.

    Feel there’s an underline message here about believing people while they put your through torture.

    Thanks for joining. xx

    Like

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