You Cannot Own Them

"Which is my 'best side?' That is what you call it, correct?" The translator never took his eyes off the alien potentate, seven feet tall and a mass of blue tentacles. Sweat shone on the translator's face as another alien, also a column of writhing blue, translated the Danish into alienese. "I don't believe in a person's best side." The painter looked over her easel at her subject. "I paint truth, not flattery."

The alien shivered and twitched, and the translator said, "For this, you are considered your people's greatest living artist." The translator's cheek twitched.

"Your people, now," the painter said as she painted. "You conquered us."

"True. You are my people. Just remember that I am not yours."

She shrugged. "Are you familiar with performance art?"

"Transient events as artistic statement, yes. They are worthless. You cannot own them."

"Makes this even better." She turned the painting around, revealing blue tentacles looming over Earth. Layers of paint caught the overhead lighting, casting the alien as angelic. She flicked a lighter to life. The oils caught immediately, and what had been heavenly turned demonic when lit from the flames below.

The translator fainted as the potentate shook with rage.

Mary's Choice

"So, who're you gonna shoot?" Mary pointed the big, fuck-off gun at the midpoint between her two choices of target. She stood between them and the door, and of the three people in the room, she was the only one who looked unique. The other two were perfect facsimiles of each other.

To be precise, one was the facsimile of the other. A demon of the old world, forgotten by cultures grown skeptical of such terrors, released by her brother's stupidity.

"C'mon, sis," whined her brother or the brother-thing. "If you don't shoot it, it'll destroy the world. Shooooot iiiiiit."

"I'm not the it," said the other. "I can prove it. Remember when I read your diary when I was eight? Well—"

"Of course you remember," the first sneered. "You stole my memories with my body, you monster."

"I'm not the monster, you are! Please, Mare, it's him. Shoot it. Please?"

Mary looked at each for a long moment, unable to to find even the smallest discrepancy. "You're forgetting something." Both canted their heads in the same confused way. "I never liked my brother. Besides, the needs of the many, and all that." Their eyes widened at the same time.

First Alley Left

Baby shower, first alley left. He barely caught the words as he drove past the hand-scrawled sign, but he looped around the block to look again. It hadn't changed, so he parked and went to see. Looking down the alley in question, confetti lay in scattered bunches leading between the dingy walls, back doors, and waste bins. He followed the trail to a cluster of sickly, half-deflated balloons hanging from a corner strung with soiled streamers. Stepping around the corner, he saw her. Sitting at a child's table, she was slight with stringy, dirty blond hair, a faded and torn dress, and a belly near to bursting.

"I didn't think anyone would come!" She threw her arms around him. He almost pulled away, but she seemed so earnest. "Please sit! We have Oreos!" She gestured him to a child-sized seat across from hers.

Part of him screamed to run and leave the crazy far behind him. He stayed. The woman was sweet and intelligent and promised to name the child after him. He promised to visit, and meant it.

A girl named Rupert would be strange, but she would never have been ordinary. He was looking forward to meeting her.

This Is What Happens

Larry reached the height of the pass and pulled down his scarf to feel the cold air on his face. His breath condensed as he stood in the snow and looked across Europe, laid out before him like an ancient map. Smiling, he pulled his scarf back up and kept walking. When he sat for lunch, he found someone else coming up a different trail. They got to talking and shared their food and drink, including a drop of whiskey from one to the other and a spot of rum in the other direction. Without ever discussing the matter, they walked on together. They traveled sometimes in silence, other times talking about family, work, retirement, love, life, and travel. Now and then their discussions turned into arguments, debates over various matters of political philosophy or practice. Each enjoyed the companionship immensely.

They traveled together for the remaining three days of the journey, and when their paths diverged in Zermatt, Larry said, "I don't think I'll ever forget this, Walt."

Walt agreed. "You see what happens, Larry?" Larry raised an eyebrow. "This is what happens when you find a stranger in the Alps." They hugged and parted, never to meet again.

This story is inspired by this clip.

What Just Happened?

"Okay," said the giraffe, "what just happened?" She was standing with three other giraffes in the Target parking lot. "I have no fucking god-damn clue," said another.

"Jason?" said the first giraffe, incredulous.

"What?" snapped the second.

"If that's you, then..." She looked at a third giraffe. "Wilson?"

"WIIIIIILLLSSSOOOOOOONN!" mock-yelled Jason.

"Oh, give me a break," said the third giraffe.

"It's him," Jason said.

"Which means you're Tara?" She looked at the fourth giraffe.

"Yup," Tara said. "Now what, Padma?"

"I dunno. This is crazy. Any ideas? Wilson?"

"WIIIIIILLLSSSOOOOOOONN!" echoed Jason.

"Dammit, would you cut. It. OUT!" A bright red beam shot from Wilson's horn-like protuberances at Jason. Jason flinched, but his protuberances shimmered and the beam bent away from him.

"What the hell," murmured Tara. She looked at the line the beam had drawn through — not in, through — the Target.

"So," Padma said, "we have turned into super-powered giraffes. Now what?"

"We find whoever did this and make them turn us back," Jason said.

"Okay, so... hey. Was that castle there this morning?" Padmam gestured with her head at a gothic structure looming above the skyline in the distance.

"Sure wasn't," Wilson said.

"Let's check it out."

She Was the Best

She was seventeen, and she was the best. She'd only had the sign job for a week, but already she tossed, spun, and danced the advertisement for new real estate better than anyone else. Not only didn't she ever drop the sign, but her performance attracted more attention than the others'. She'd sneaked a look at the sales numbers, and they'd gone up twenty percent since she'd started. This concerned her. She didn't want to be doing this forever. She wouldn't be able to, for one thing. What if there wasn't anything else that she was this good at? She wanted to study botany, but what if she didn't take to the organic sciences the way she took to this? Could she really work at something where she was only okay? Would she be robbing the world of its finest sign dancer?

It wouldn't be forever. She promised herself this. For now, she needed this, the paycheck, the job. But the minute she didn't, the minute she was free to pursue something deeper, more important, she would go, even if she couldn't be the best, even if it was hard. Until then, she spun the sign.

She was the best.

An Amazing Cat

The boy held his cat tight to his chest. "He's an amazing cat," the boy said, "and he needs an amazing home." He peeked up at the woman standing over him. She smiled. "Can you tell me what's great about him?"

"He can run faster than a cheetah."

She crossed her arms. "Oh, yeah?"

"Um, once he protected me from three pit bulls. At the same time."

"Okay." She didn't sound impressed.

"If you let him go outside, he can find gold for you."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Um, and his, uh, if he licks you, it cures cancer."

"Well, that's great and all, but I'm not sure I'm the right person for this cat."

Tears beaded in the boy's eyes. "What if he loves a little boy very much, and the boy just can't keep him anymore because we have to move to a place that won't take animals, and maybe we could visit him sometimes?"

She knelt and stroked the fuzzy head. "Now that sounds like an amazing cat. One I could give a good home and love forever. One that could have friends over." He sniffled, and they petted the cat together. The cat remained indifferent.