It’s not often in this day and age that you’ll hear the conspiracies of abduction, crop circles, or that we’re all being monitored from afar. Most are too busy trying to keep up with their pocket slaver, looking up memes or watching funny Youtube videos, but I want to reiterate that perhaps you, too, should start observing human nature. It’s quite…interesting.
Just the other day, I was the eyewitness of what appeared, at first, to be an entire family from another planet, but before we go any further, I know what you’re thinking:
‘How could you possibly know they were from another planet?’
Something guttural, nearing primal told me they had to be. Something deep within, nearing anger if I’m being honest, beckoned the question.
Before I get in too deep, let me paint the picture.
A couple of weeks ago, while waiting in the drive thru line for something to drink, I spotted something that made my brain short circuit for a moment:
It was a man and his family, as double parked as could possibly be.
Following instinct, I rolled down my window and prepared myself to ask him the question I mentioned earlier. I wanted to ask, ‘Hey man, what planet are you from?’
I wanted it to sound as genuine and as honest as possible, nearing the sarcastic perfection reserved for masters of this particular craft, but then the line began to pull forward like a herd of cattle in the slaughterhouse, panning the martians out of my sight.
A few moments passed by and I saw him walking in, but there was something else that made me pause:
This man had a small boy with him.
I started to attempt a process of reasoning with myself. Maybe this is their vacation, I thought to myself. It was at this point that I reminded myself, you don’t do stupid shit like this even if you’re on vacation, must less attract unnecessary attention with this ‘driving skill’, or lack thereof.
‘Dear god, he’s reproduced, too,’ I thought.
For the rest of the day I couldn’t help thinking that the rest of the planet must be simply crawling with aliens. We see assholes doing dumb, entitled shit all the time, right? So I’ve thought to myself, what other things do these aliens do on a daily basis that’s normal to them?
Lucky for you, dear reader, I’ve comprised a small list:
2.) They make an initial claim, then decide not to deliver. (I suspect most are customer service business ventures, internet bloggers, and politicians. Especially politicians.)
3.) They double park. (Even if this is their social norm, “we park in the space between the lines Mr. Alien, not on the line between the space.”)
4.) They use their cellphones during movies. (Just don’t do this.)
5.) They talk obnoxiously loud during moves. (Seriously? If I wanted the audio descriptive feature, I would have gotten the ticket to it.)
*Side note: Audio descriptive movies are when someone tells you everything that’s happening in the movie as it happens. This is mainly for the blind, and if they can’t buy tickets to see audio descriptive movies because they may not exist yet, someone should remedy this. A politician perhaps.
6.) They ask for handouts, knowing they don’t deserve them. (Maybe they’re under a grand illusion they do, in fact, deserve these handouts, in which case they need to check themselves into a home.)
Speaking of handouts, I, like many other aspiring creators of this world, dream of the day when my work will be distributed to the masses for you all to enjoy. In turn, aside from the recognition, comes the monetary security in return.
I desire neither fame nor fortune. I’m a people watcher who wants to be left alone to continue my writing in peace as well as spend more time honing in on the craft itself but, there’s a small problem with this:
Everything costs something in this world.
Even something that’s free will have your time spent on it. That’s the rub, as they say. My time is devoted to working full-time, having one class fewer than that of a ‘Full-time Student’, Reading, Writing, and having a small percentage devoted to upkeep of this lifestyle like cleaning the house and paying bills.
I don’t want to ditch college or slow down the progress of my craft, so that leaves work, a whole forty hours–not including the commute to and fro– dedicated to making someone else money.
All this being said, Quarterstories now has a Patreon page for donations. These donations aren’t to spend on a new Bentley, pay the ghastly electric bill of a mansion, or to have fifty supermodel types join me on a yacht. This is simply here to support this website.
Until next issue, dear reader.