Aliens for Dinner

by Stephanie Spinner

  This is for Jon. —S.S.

  “Richard, have another egg roll.”

  “No thanks, Mom, I’m full,” said Richard Bickerstaff glumly.

  “How about another fried dumpling?” asked Bob Baxter. “They’re really good—really good.” He smiled encouragingly.

  Richard didn’t smile back. “I already said I’m full,” he answered. This wasn’t really true. He loved Chinese food, especially fried dumplings. But he liked to eat them with his mom, not with Bob Baxter, his mother’s new boyfriend.

  Richard wished Bob would go away. He was just a big boring guy with a moving van company. What did she see in him, anyway? Four dates, and now he was showing up for dinner! Richard didn’t get it. In most other ways his mom was pretty smart.

  “Well, I guess we’ll have dessert then,” said Mrs. Bickerstaff. “You’re not too full for that, are you?”

  “No, Mom,” said Richard, brightening a little. As far as he was concerned, the whole point of eating dinner was dessert. “What are we having?”

  “Ice cream,” said Mrs. Bickerstaff. She and Bob started clearing the table. “And fortune cookies, of course.” She pointed to the last white container on the table.

  As she and Bob carried plates and chopsticks into the kitchen, Richard reached for the container. Funny. There was only one cookie inside—a big one. Should he open it, or save it for his mom?

  But the fortune cookie seemed to have a mind of its own. As Richard watched, it began to rock back and forth on the table, first slowly, then faster and faster. Suddenly it burst into a dozen pieces. A tiny figure wrapped in a white paper strip struggled to stand up.

  “Aric!” Richard’s heart leaped. “Wow! It’s great to see you!”

  “It is good to see you also.” Aric’s voice was gruff, but his face was friendly. “As usual, though, it has not been easy getting here,” he said, waving his tiny arms in the air. “I have heard of economy class, but this is ridiculous!”

  Then he unwound the paper strip and read the message on it. “‘Keep a clear head and you will save the day.’ Hah!” he snorted. “Try keeping a clear head when you have just traveled 6.7 million miles in a fortune cookie!”

  Richard smiled. Aric was a commander in the Interspace Brigade. His mission was to wipe out crime in the galaxy. He had appeared twice before, once in a cereal box, and once in a bag of microwave popcorn, to protect Earth from alien threats. Richard had helped him out both times, and both times Aric had complained a lot. Richard was used to it. He even kind of liked it.

  “So, Aric,” he said. “How come you’re here? Are you on a mission? Is there another threat to Earth?” Richard’s palms started sweating a little. He was one-third afraid and two-thirds excited. He knew Aric only came to Earth when there was trouble.

  A serious look came over the tiny alien’s face. But just as he was about to answer, Richard’s mother called, “Richard! Which would you like, Chocolate Joy Ride or Peanut Butter Fantasy?”

  “Whoops!” Richard whispered to Aric. “We’d better go up to my room.” He put the alien in his shirt pocket and headed for the stairs. “Uh, I’m not hungry after all, Mom,” he called into the kitchen. “I think I’ll go up and do my homework.”

  The minute Richard said this Mrs. Bickerstaff appeared in the doorway. She looked worried.

  “No ice cream?” she asked. “Are you feeling all right, sweetie?” She put her palm against Richard’s forehead.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” said Richard. “Really. I just forgot I have a lot of math to do.”

  “Well, all right,” she said uncertainly. “We’ll be up later to say good night. Won’t we, Bob?”

  “We sure will,” said Bob. “We sure—” Before he’d finished, Richard was up the stairs and in his room.

  “Earth is once again in danger,” said Aric the minute the door was closed. “A powerful group from the planet Dwilb has made it their target. They are businessmen—ruthless and greedy. They plan to take your planet over and make it into a theme park.”

  “What’s so bad about that?” asked Richard. He liked theme parks, especially the kind with water slides.

  “Let me describe what they have in mind,” said Aric. “They will turn Earth into a carnival of litter, chemical waste, and gross, disgusting rides. They will call it Toxic Waste Funland. Then they will sell tickets to their fellow Dwilbs, and to every other screaming, thrill-seeking, pollution-loving alien in the galaxy. By this time, you and your fellow Earthlings will be in their power. They plan to put you to work as guides. When the first tour ships arrive, Earth will be trashed. And you will be a slave in a funny hat.”

  “Yikes,” said Richard. It all sounded pretty bad to him, especially the part about the funny hat.

  “‘Yikes’ is right,” said Aric. “On Dwilb they call Earth ‘the Planet of Pollution.’ And they are so sure of success that they have already started advertising. They are running commercials for Toxic Waste Weekends on the Intergalactic Shopping Network.”

  “But why us?” asked Richard. “Aren’t there lots of other planets to choose from?”

  “I hate to be the one to break this to you,” said Aric. “But Earth is the most polluted planet in this sector of the galaxy.”

  Richard was surprised. He knew Earth was polluted. But was it bad enough to attract aliens?

  “They like what they see here,” said Aric. “The dirt, the waste, the chemicals. They think Earth will make them a fortune.”

  “Well, we can stop them, right, Aric?” asked Richard. “I mean, how bad can these guys be? Especially with a bogus name like Dwilbs! Who are they, anyway? How do we find them?”

  Aric sat down on a stack of X-Men comics. “According to Brigade Intelligence, they are here, in your very town. A heavy source of pollution has drawn them—”

  “I’ll bet it’s the chemical plant,” said Richard. “They’re being investigated for dumping toxic waste. Mom’s working on the case.” Richard’s mother was a lawyer. Her specialty was the environment.

  “Or maybe it’s the oil spill,” said Richard. Last week a tanker had leaked thousands of gallons of oil up the coast. Now the oil had reached Richard’s town. There were news stories about it every day.

  “Toxic waste and an oil spill?” said Aric. “For Dwilbs, that’s the perfect double feature.”

  “Well, so, let’s get them,” said Richard. “What do they look like?”

  “They look like humans,” said Aric. “And they say everything twice. This has a slightly hypnotic effect. The longer you spend with them, the stronger their hold over you gets.”

  “Really?” said Richard. “You know, I think I just met someone who says things twice. But I can’t remember who.”

  “That is part of their power,” said Aric. “You hear them, but you don’t remember. And every time you hear them—”

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Quick! Behind the X-Men!” whispered Richard. Aric hid.

  “Come in,” called Richard.

  Mrs. Bickerstaff and Bob stood in the doorway. “Bob’s come to say good-bye to you, sweetie,” said his mother.

  Bob gave him a big smile and a little wave. “Good night, Richard,” he said. “Good night, Richard.”

  Breakfast the next morning was not a happy meal. Every time Richard thought of the way Bob had said good night he practically choked on his waffle. His mother was dating an alien! And she didn’t even know it!

  “Richard, honey, you’re not eating,” his mother said to him from across the table. She put down the Sunday paper. “I’m beginning to worry about you.”

  And I’m already worried about you, thought Richard. Your new boy friend probably has an antenna behind his ear. But all he said was, “I’m o
kay, Mom. Just not too hungry.”

  “Try to eat a little,” said his mother. Then something in the paper caught her eye. “I don’t believe this!” she said. “The oil spill is getting bigger. And nobody seems to know why.”

  “Bad news!” Aric’s voice boomed into Richard’s head. Richard dropped his fork. He always forgot that the alien could speak to him this way—as if he were inside Richard’s brain. Actually, he was inside Richard’s pocket.

  “It is the aliens,” said Aric. “Pollution levels will rise sharply from now on. We must move with speed!”

  Richard jumped up from the table. “Got to go, Mom,” he said. “Think I’ll take a ride on my bike.”

  “Be back in time for lunch, Richard,” said his mother. “We’re having company.”

  “Okay! I hear you,” muttered Richard as he raced out the door. But he wasn’t talking to his mother. He was talking to Aric, who was telling him to get to the oil spill—fast.

  Richard hunched over his racing bars and pedaled hard. Ten minutes later, he was at the beach. He dropped his bike and walked down a wooden ramp onto the sand. The beach was empty. Richard was surprised. Lately there were always people here, working to clean up the spill—including Henry and a bunch of kids from their class. Henry was the captain of the school’s Green Patrol. He was really serious about the environment.

  Richard pulled Aric out of his pocket. “Funny that nobody’s here,” he said.

  “Look again,” said Aric. He pointed at the water.

  The sky was dark and overcast and the ocean was rough. At first all Richard saw were the waves breaking, and beyond that the spill—a great big sludgy mass of black liquid floating on the green of the ocean. It smelled bad—like rotten eggs. It had never smelled this bad before, thought Richard. And it did look a lot bigger than it had just a few days ago.

  Richard felt a little like choking. His eyes began to tear. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with his jacket sleeve. When he put his glasses back on, he finally saw what Aric was pointing at.

  “Eeyow!” he gasped. “I don’t believe it!” There, swimming right in the middle of the sludge, were four—no, five—guys! They were wearing bathing caps, and bobbing up and down in the slick as if they were on a trampoline. They were totally covered with black, smelly oil. Not only that, they were slapping each other on the back and laughing!

  “Meet the Dwilbs,” said Aric grimly.

  “Agh! Gross!” said Richard. He felt sick.

  And then they spotted him. “Hi, there! Hi, there!” they called. “Come on in! Come on in!” Richard backed away.

  “Aric!” he gasped. “How do we get rid of these guys? They’re really scary!”

  “Ah … Uh …” The little alien didn’t really answer. Richard looked at him in alarm. “You know how to get rid of them, right?” Was it his imagination, or had Aric turned a deeper shade of pink?

  “Of course I know,” said Aric. “Or to be more precise, I did know. Before I had to travel in that torture chamber you Earthlings call a fortune cookie. The trip has done something to my memory.”

  “Oh no,” moaned Richard. “You mean you forgot?” Richard’s heart sank. Aric’s memory was terrible.

  “It will come to me,” said Aric. “In time.”

  “Join us! Join us!” squawked the aliens again. “It’s fun! It’s fun!” Richard flinched. They sounded so cheerful! He wanted to leave, but it was hard to tear his eyes away from them. His feet felt as if they were planted in the sand.

  “Richard!” boomed Aric. “Snap out of it! Let us go back to your dwelling! Now!” Richard forced himself to turn away.

  “Do not worry,” said Aric as Richard pedaled home. “Things will get better—I swear by the Great Gazook.”

  But when Richard got home, things got worse. Bob showed up for lunch.

  “Great chili, Harriet,” he said. “Great chili.” Then he started talking to Richard’s mother about his business—Bob’s Mighty Movers.

  “A van for this, a truck for that—we’ll get you there in no time flat!” was his motto. He was thinking of using it in a radio commercial. “So, what do you think?” he asked Mrs. Bickerstaff. “What do you think?”

  “I like it! I like it!” she said.

  Richard’s jaw dropped. Was his mother turning into an alien, like Bob?

  “Uh, Mom, may I be excused?” he asked hastily.

  They hardly noticed when he left.

  On his way to school the next morning Richard kept thinking about the Dwilbs and the oil spill. Every time he did, he felt a little sick.

  Just as he got to the bus stop something hit his leg. It was a piece of newspaper. Richard picked it up. What was it doing here? He looked around. Newspaper, empty paper cups, and crumpled brown paper bags were everywhere. Normally the streets were pretty clean. Not now.

  Aric could read Richard’s thoughts. “Dwilbs,” he said tersely. “They—” He stopped. Richard had come to a sudden halt. Then he groaned.

  “What is it, boy?” The alien climbed out of Richard’s pocket.

  “Look, Aric. Over there!” They had come to the bus stop. A school bus had just pulled up and kids were climbing on. But Richard wasn’t pointing at them. He was pointing to the bus’s back fender.

  Two pale, flabby men wearing straw porkpie hats were crouching behind the bus. They were sucking on its exhaust pipe.

  “Agh!” exclaimed Richard. “They’re inhaling the fumes! And nobody’s paying any attention to them!” It was true. While the men took turns, kids just kept climbing onto the bus as if nothing was wrong.

  Just then the men noticed him. “Try some?” one of them asked with a big smile. “Try some?”

  “It’s really delicious,” said the other one. “Really delicious.”

  Richard stood there. Could they be telling the truth…?

  “Run!” Aric’s voice boomed in Richard’s head. Richard ran.

  He made it to school on time, but only because he ran the whole way. Once he was in class, though, his mind kept wandering. He kept seeing the Dwilbs at the bus stop, and remembering how he almost couldn’t move when they talked to him.

  Richard wondered if he should talk to Henry. Henry knew all kinds of facts and figures about pollution—he had turned into a real expert. Maybe he could come up with an idea to stop the Dwilbs. Somebody’s got to, thought Richard.

  He decided to grab Henry the minute lunch period started. He and Henry always had lunch together, even though they didn’t trade sandwiches anymore. These days Henry was eating raw vegetables and goat cheese.

  Richard couldn’t stand that healthy stuff. His idea of a good lunch was a Snickers bar and a jelly doughnut. Unfortunately, his mother didn’t see things his way. She made him tuna on whole wheat.

  When the bell rang Richard jumped to his feet. Mrs. Marks, his teacher, stood up too.

  “Just a moment, class,” she said. “Before you leave, I’d like some volunteers for beach cleanup.” She looked expectantly at Henry. He always volunteered.

  But Henry didn’t raise his hand, or even look up. He just tapped his foot as if he was bored. Mrs. Marks looked around the classroom. No one moved.

  “Green Patrol?” she said. “Don’t you want to help?”

  There was silence. “Not really,” said Henry slowly. Then he laughed. So did everyone else.

  Richard’s mouth dropped open. What was going on? Why was Henry acting so weird?

  “The Dwilbs are making progress.” Aric sent the thought to Richard. He sounded worried.

  “I don’t understand you kids sometimes,” said Mrs. Marks. She sighed. “All right. Class dismissed.”

  Richard grabbed his pack. Now it was more important than ever to talk to Henry. He hurried into the schoolyard. On warm days like today everyone liked to eat outside.

  There were crowds of kids in the yard, and they were all eating something Richard had never seen before. The stuff looked like soft ice cream or frozen yogurt, only it was a really dark
color—almost black. It smelled bad, too. Richard wrinkled his nose. He couldn’t quite tell what the smell was—just that it reminded him of something he didn’t like.

  Everyone was wolfing the stuff down. Richard was surprised to see that it came in Styrofoam cups, the kind nobody was supposed to use anymore. And kids were throwing the cups and plastic spoons on the ground when they were finished. What is going on? thought Richard.

  “The Dwilbs have reached your schoolmates,” Aric said. His voice was tense. “I do not like this. They are moving very quickly.”

  Then Richard saw Henry. His friend was making his way through the crowd to a little food cart at the end of the yard.

  Richard followed him, kicking his way through piles of empty Styrofoam cups. There were about twenty kids at the cart. They were all shoving each other and waving dollar bills and yelling, “Get out of my way!” “I’m next!” “No, I am!”

  Above their voices came the cries of the food vendors—two pale, flabby guys wearing red plastic Jughead hats. “Frozen Sludgies!” they squawked. “Frozen Sludgies! Come and get ’em! Come and get ’em!” The smell at the stand was strong—almost overpowering. With a shock, Richard realized it was the smell of rotten eggs—the smell of the oil slick.

  He started to feel nauseous. Aliens! They were showing up everywhere! And what were frozen Sludgies? For a second Richard’s mind stopped. The thought that came to him—that the aliens were selling a frozen dessert made from the oil slick—was so disgusting that he pushed it away.

  Then he saw Henry buying a Sludgie from one of the aliens. “Don’t eat it!” gasped Richard.

  But Henry didn’t hear him. As Richard watched, he began wolfing the mess down noisily, with his mouth open. He was acting as if he was in some kind of speed-eating contest. Sludge dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. Henry didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy eating.

  When he finished, he dropped his spoon and empty cup on the ground and headed back to the cart.

  Richard’s stomach knotted up. He felt dizzy Maybe it was the smell of the Sludgies. Maybe it was the sight of his best friend acting like a total gross pig. Either way, it was too much for him.