Submitted for the July 2025 prompt: Aliens Among Us

Roy Penski squirmed in his seat, watching with suspicion as the alien in the recliner next to his gulped down Jell-O.

 

While he didn’t exactly have a plan, he’d seen enough sci-fi movies to know the kind of thing people were expected to say when they were confronted by marauding extraterrestrials.

 

“You’ll never get away with this!”

 

Al waved a scaly hand dismissively and then went back to his dessert. “We already have,” he said between mouthfuls. “Tens of thousands of my people have infiltrated cities all over this planet. There’s 837 in Cleveland alone. Once our fleet arrives tomorrow, Earth will be ours.”

 

Roy found himself running out of hope and fresh ideas. He searched his memory of intergalactic skirmishes on film, grasping for a reply.

 

“What you’re doing is wrong,” he said at last. “It’s evil.”

 

“Eh. I don’t know if I’d go that far.” The alien shook his green head, tendrils whipping back and forth. “Unsportsmanlike, maybe. I admit that our technology runs rings around yours. But it’s not like we had other options. Our suns were dying, and we needed a new home world. By the way, this key lime pie flavor is divine. Once we’ve finished conquering your species, I’ll be sure to recommend that we allow Jell-O production to continue.”

 

Roy tried getting up, but his legs felt weak. Instead, he settled for running a sweaty palm over the Elvis pillow behind him. It was hard for him to believe that, a week before, he had been swapping casserole recipes with Al. Then, after a freak toaster accident, he’d come home from the hospital to learn that his neighbor was, in fact, an extraterrestrial. Who’d have thought that electric shocks could make a person’s brain immune to mind control?

 

As his heart thumped in his chest, he looked at Al and wished that he felt brave. In every sci-fi movie he’d watched, there was a pivotal scene three-quarters of the way through where the hero summoned up the courage to save the world. Try as he might, though, at the moment, all he could muster was regret for not having worn deodorant.

 

He glanced to his left, staring at the alien’s collection of Precious Moments figurines. And then, from somewhere deep down, a memory surfaced. He remembered being eight years old and coming home from school victoriously as the second-grade spelling bee champion. His mother had remarked with pride that he was bound for great things.

 

Somehow, he pondered now, this wasn’t what he’d thought she meant. But with the fate of the free world hanging in the balance, he decided, it was the least he could do. He had to make a run for it and get help.

 

Stalling, he forced himself to talk. “Well, since you’re taking over the world tomorrow, I guess you can tell me the truth. How did you learn to act human?”

 

“Easy.” The alien paused for a minute, savoring the last spoonful. “My people have been studying your species ever since we became aware of Earth. Once we realized that this could be a viable home world for us, we sped up the effort. You’d be amazed at what we learned about you from reality shows alone.”

 

“Uh-huh,” replied Roy, eyeing the door. “And what’s your name? I mean, I know the ‘Al Westerbrook’ alias is part of your cover. What are you really called?”

 

“Nah, legit, you can call me Al.” He let out a laugh that sounded to Roy like a cross between a sick moose and a goal horn. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. But, seriously, human pop culture was a hit with my planet. My parents are big fans of Paul Simon.”

 

“Does your kind have last names?”

 

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it. There’s a lot of “i’s” and “e’s” and about seven hundred consonants. You might as well stick to ‘Westerbrook’.”

 

At that moment, when Al looked away from him, Roy seized his chance. Summoning up strength he hadn’t felt since winning the third-grade interscholastic softball championship, he ran for the front door.

 

He didn’t get far. With wide eyes, he looked down to see that his legs were no longer in contact with the rug, and that instead, he’d been swept up into the air, just below the ceiling fan.

 

His alien neighbor responded with a shrug. “Telekinesis. Not to brag or anything, but my species is quite skilled at it. But, honestly, there’s no need for you to go anywhere. Not when I’m enjoying your company. And if you try to contact the authorities, well…” He stopped there, shaking his head. “That would be silly. You’ll call the police, tell them your story, and the next thing you know, they’re sending out the guys with the butterfly nets. You’re familiar with the metaphor, right?”

 

“They’d believe me,” he said, dangling helplessly.

 

Al let loose another goal horn-like blast. “Really? That aliens exist and you’re the only one who can see through their disguise, thanks to your thalamus getting reverse polarized? Seriously, Roy, that story’s shakier than the plot to Airwolf.”

 

Roy slumped his head and gave up fighting, allowing Al’s telekinetic force to gently set him down on the carpet. With the futility of his situation sinking in, he was starting to feel a bit like a helium balloon that was long past its prime. “I guess that’s it, then. The human race is doomed.”

 

“Not at all.” His neighbor set the empty Jell-O container down on the TV tray beside him. “Your species has some delightful traits. You have a knack for creating wonderful Broadway shows and pop songs, for example.” With a smile, he settled back comfortably into his chair and extended the footrest. “You’ll be a huge hit in our traveling circuses.”