Bridgets Flame, week three story
For those of you who aren't familliar with Bridgets Flame, the prompt this week was Canary in a Coal Mine. Fair warning: there's some offensive language, but nothing too bad.
Steve Bard had not thought that he would be getting a glamorous job when he applied to be the bouncer at Joshua’s. He knew that he would probably have to break up a few fights, clear the bar after last call, and arrange rides for those who couldn’t drive. He would have to sit around, looking friendly or intimidating as the situation demanded, and chat with the bartenders and customers. Nothing more.
He had no illusions, and wasn’t disappointed. Joshua’s was the only bar in town, so the patrons generally behaved themselves: there was nowhere else for them to go if they got thrown out. Steve actually got a lot of reading done when it was slow, and that suited him just fine. Tonight, in fact, Steve was engrossed in The Sparrow, when Becky, the bartender, called urgently across the room to him.
“Hey, Steve?”
It was Monday night, and the bar seemed quiet, but he still put down his book and hustled over to the bar.
“What do you need, Bec?”
“The guy down there at the end of the bar? He seems pretty drunk, and he’s been acting all weird. Claims he’s an alien, as in from outer space,” Becky rolled her eyes.
“How many and what’s he had to drink?” Steve sighed; Becky should know better than to serve people until they were delusional.
“That’s part of what’s so weird, Steve; he’s only had three beers.”
“That is weird. Maybe he’s on some medication. I’ll go check him out. ”
Steve headed over to the end of the bar. The customer in question was leaning woozily against the bar, almost hanging off his barstool. Yup, the guy was drunk.
"Hey, Buddy, you OK?"
The man sat up, swaying on his stool, the yaw of his motion so great that he should have fallen. His eyes dilated in and out, but he could not focus on Steve's face.
“I- Yes, I’m O.K. I am just feeling the effects of your beverages.” He indicated the beer glasses next to him, knocking them over with his arm.
“You sure, buddy? ‘Cause Becky here says you only had three, and you’re acting like you’ve had way more than that. Did you start drinking someplace else? Are you on any kind of medication?”
"I," he was barely intelligible, "I have had only these three beverages, truly. I am just not accustomed to the . . . beverages here . . . on your . . . Planet.”
“Planet? What do you mean planet? You some kind of alien?” Steve was doing his best not to laugh. The guy seemed just drunk, harmless enough, but sometimes they got ugly if you laughed at them.
“I am the . . . advance man, the van- vanguard."
"Really? Who's vanguard? Say, what’s your name, anyway, buddy? And where are you staying?" This guy was a real character, quite the entertaining drunk.
"My name? It’s . . . Bob. And you wouldn't know us . . . down here in your primitive little so- so- society. No capabilities at all, none at all. You can't even make it to the outer edge of your star's gravity; we-" here he paused for a loud belch, "We have been watching you from just outside your star's gravity field for a good- good long time."
Steve looked at Becky; she was twirling her finger around her ear. He shrugged. Crazy the guy might be, nevertheless, he was alone, and Steve felt somewhat responsible for him.
"Really? So you're saying you’re an alien and you're here to check things out, for the rest of your friends? See if things are suitable for you here?"
"Yes; I'm here to check out the atmosphere, and availability of food and shelter, and what the natives are like."
"You got a spaceship?"
"Yeah-" Bob paused for another belch, "it's hidden just over there." Bob waved blearily in the direction of the forest.
"No way, you’re pulling my leg. You’re no more an alien than I am. You’re Bob, from Chicago or something, looking to get out of the city."
“No!” Another burp, “I really am from a far away galaxy. I will take you to my spaceship, and show you it.” Bob climbed gracelessly from his bar stool and began bumbling his way to the door.
“Wait, Bob!” Steve turned to Becky, “Bec, I’m going to take this guy to secure his car, and then I’ll take him to the Super 8 out on I-15, and get him checked in and put to bed.”
“You’re too kind, Steve.”
“Oh, I’m just avoiding headaches for us, ‘cause I can’t just let him go, even if he’s walking; we don’t need to get sued for whatever damage he does wandering around shitfaced, and I can’t call the Sherriff, ‘cause Doug’s on duty tonight, and he’ll have this guy in to the hospital, and no one’s gonna believe he got that drunk on three beers. Better to just settle him someplace to sleep it off.”
“Well, take care of yourself, anyway; this guy seems like a real whackjob.”
“Will do. See ya!”
He caught Bob just before he fell over a table. Grasping him firmly by the arm, Steve guided him out to his pickup. Bob seemed fascinated with the tools in the back; forcing Steve to stop while he picked up and examined a mallet, a tape measure, and a can of spray paint. Steve thanked whatever it was that had made him take the saw out that morning while bundling him, with much difficulty, into the passenger seat.
“So, Bob, why don’t we go lock up your car-”
“Spaceship!”
“Ri-ight, spaceship. Then I’ll take you out to a motel and get you settled for the night.”
“I’m not staying here that long; I’ve got to go.”
“Well, no offense, Bob, but you’re pretty shitfaced; I can’t let you drive, or really even walk, anyplace in that condition.”
“Shit faced?” Bob rubbed his cheeks “I have nothing on my face. And my ship will- will fly itself off this planet”
“Ohh Kay,” Steve sighed, “Tell me how to get to your spaceship, then.”
“All right, go- go, um, left? Here. NO! Right, then, go right.”
Bob directed Steve out of town and onto a dirt road that ended in an old, flooded quarry. Steve began to get nervous, thinking that maybe Bob wasn’t an alien so much as a psychotic nutjob going to hack him to pieces in the privacy of the forest. Steve reached behind his seat and slid the tire iron he kept there into a more accessible position.
When they arrived at the quarry, Bob hopped out of the cab, fell, and climbed back onto his feet, removing what looked like the remote for a garage-door opener from his pocket. He pushed a button, and something began to move in the depths of the quarry. Soon, a vehicle that looked very much like a space ship had emerged from the water.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Steve murmured, carefully removing the tire iron from behind the seat. “You really are an alien.”
“Yes! I told you. I will be returning to the- fleet- soon, to make my report.”
“So, you and your buddies are going to invade the earth?”
Bob stared blearily at Steve. “Well . . . yes. I guess so.”
“What will happen to us?”
“You and Becky have been most kind to me. I will speak to the Commander, and you will be placed in my care.” Bob belched, and grinned benevolently.
“So, Bec and I can be your pets, but I think you’ll probably do away with everyone else on earth.”
Bob looked at his spaceship. “I’m af- afraid so. We have little use for- um- primitives.” He pressed another button on the garage-door opener, and a hatch opened in the side of the ship.
“Would you like to see the inside of my ship? You’ve been so kind; I’m sure the Commander would love to meet you, if you wanted to come with me.”
“Sure, I’d love to see what it’s like inside.”
Bob staggered through the hatch, and Steve followed. Once they were inside, he hit him in the back of the head with the tire iron.
“But I’m not going with you, you son of a bitch. I’m going to make sure the Commander gets a real good impression of our ‘primitive society’.”
Steve grabbed the garage-door opener from where Bob had dropped it and returned to his truck for the insect fogger he had in the back. He blew insecticide inside the spaceship until it was good and full, pressed the buttons on the remote until the hatch started to close, then tossed it inside.
He figured that the ship would either return to where Bob’s friends were waiting for him, or they would summon it back eventually. Either way, Bob would hopefully be dead by the time he got back to his mothership, or whatever, and his fellow invaders were in for a very toxic surprise from Earth.
Steve got in his truck and drove away. He would have to tell Becky, how Bob really had been an alien sent to check out the habitability of earth, but he wasn’t sure she’d believe him. Maybe he wouldn’t believe it himself, in the morning. He just hoped that things at work never got this exciting again.
Steve Bard had not thought that he would be getting a glamorous job when he applied to be the bouncer at Joshua’s. He knew that he would probably have to break up a few fights, clear the bar after last call, and arrange rides for those who couldn’t drive. He would have to sit around, looking friendly or intimidating as the situation demanded, and chat with the bartenders and customers. Nothing more.
He had no illusions, and wasn’t disappointed. Joshua’s was the only bar in town, so the patrons generally behaved themselves: there was nowhere else for them to go if they got thrown out. Steve actually got a lot of reading done when it was slow, and that suited him just fine. Tonight, in fact, Steve was engrossed in The Sparrow, when Becky, the bartender, called urgently across the room to him.
“Hey, Steve?”
It was Monday night, and the bar seemed quiet, but he still put down his book and hustled over to the bar.
“What do you need, Bec?”
“The guy down there at the end of the bar? He seems pretty drunk, and he’s been acting all weird. Claims he’s an alien, as in from outer space,” Becky rolled her eyes.
“How many and what’s he had to drink?” Steve sighed; Becky should know better than to serve people until they were delusional.
“That’s part of what’s so weird, Steve; he’s only had three beers.”
“That is weird. Maybe he’s on some medication. I’ll go check him out. ”
Steve headed over to the end of the bar. The customer in question was leaning woozily against the bar, almost hanging off his barstool. Yup, the guy was drunk.
"Hey, Buddy, you OK?"
The man sat up, swaying on his stool, the yaw of his motion so great that he should have fallen. His eyes dilated in and out, but he could not focus on Steve's face.
“I- Yes, I’m O.K. I am just feeling the effects of your beverages.” He indicated the beer glasses next to him, knocking them over with his arm.
“You sure, buddy? ‘Cause Becky here says you only had three, and you’re acting like you’ve had way more than that. Did you start drinking someplace else? Are you on any kind of medication?”
"I," he was barely intelligible, "I have had only these three beverages, truly. I am just not accustomed to the . . . beverages here . . . on your . . . Planet.”
“Planet? What do you mean planet? You some kind of alien?” Steve was doing his best not to laugh. The guy seemed just drunk, harmless enough, but sometimes they got ugly if you laughed at them.
“I am the . . . advance man, the van- vanguard."
"Really? Who's vanguard? Say, what’s your name, anyway, buddy? And where are you staying?" This guy was a real character, quite the entertaining drunk.
"My name? It’s . . . Bob. And you wouldn't know us . . . down here in your primitive little so- so- society. No capabilities at all, none at all. You can't even make it to the outer edge of your star's gravity; we-" here he paused for a loud belch, "We have been watching you from just outside your star's gravity field for a good- good long time."
Steve looked at Becky; she was twirling her finger around her ear. He shrugged. Crazy the guy might be, nevertheless, he was alone, and Steve felt somewhat responsible for him.
"Really? So you're saying you’re an alien and you're here to check things out, for the rest of your friends? See if things are suitable for you here?"
"Yes; I'm here to check out the atmosphere, and availability of food and shelter, and what the natives are like."
"You got a spaceship?"
"Yeah-" Bob paused for another belch, "it's hidden just over there." Bob waved blearily in the direction of the forest.
"No way, you’re pulling my leg. You’re no more an alien than I am. You’re Bob, from Chicago or something, looking to get out of the city."
“No!” Another burp, “I really am from a far away galaxy. I will take you to my spaceship, and show you it.” Bob climbed gracelessly from his bar stool and began bumbling his way to the door.
“Wait, Bob!” Steve turned to Becky, “Bec, I’m going to take this guy to secure his car, and then I’ll take him to the Super 8 out on I-15, and get him checked in and put to bed.”
“You’re too kind, Steve.”
“Oh, I’m just avoiding headaches for us, ‘cause I can’t just let him go, even if he’s walking; we don’t need to get sued for whatever damage he does wandering around shitfaced, and I can’t call the Sherriff, ‘cause Doug’s on duty tonight, and he’ll have this guy in to the hospital, and no one’s gonna believe he got that drunk on three beers. Better to just settle him someplace to sleep it off.”
“Well, take care of yourself, anyway; this guy seems like a real whackjob.”
“Will do. See ya!”
He caught Bob just before he fell over a table. Grasping him firmly by the arm, Steve guided him out to his pickup. Bob seemed fascinated with the tools in the back; forcing Steve to stop while he picked up and examined a mallet, a tape measure, and a can of spray paint. Steve thanked whatever it was that had made him take the saw out that morning while bundling him, with much difficulty, into the passenger seat.
“So, Bob, why don’t we go lock up your car-”
“Spaceship!”
“Ri-ight, spaceship. Then I’ll take you out to a motel and get you settled for the night.”
“I’m not staying here that long; I’ve got to go.”
“Well, no offense, Bob, but you’re pretty shitfaced; I can’t let you drive, or really even walk, anyplace in that condition.”
“Shit faced?” Bob rubbed his cheeks “I have nothing on my face. And my ship will- will fly itself off this planet”
“Ohh Kay,” Steve sighed, “Tell me how to get to your spaceship, then.”
“All right, go- go, um, left? Here. NO! Right, then, go right.”
Bob directed Steve out of town and onto a dirt road that ended in an old, flooded quarry. Steve began to get nervous, thinking that maybe Bob wasn’t an alien so much as a psychotic nutjob going to hack him to pieces in the privacy of the forest. Steve reached behind his seat and slid the tire iron he kept there into a more accessible position.
When they arrived at the quarry, Bob hopped out of the cab, fell, and climbed back onto his feet, removing what looked like the remote for a garage-door opener from his pocket. He pushed a button, and something began to move in the depths of the quarry. Soon, a vehicle that looked very much like a space ship had emerged from the water.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Steve murmured, carefully removing the tire iron from behind the seat. “You really are an alien.”
“Yes! I told you. I will be returning to the- fleet- soon, to make my report.”
“So, you and your buddies are going to invade the earth?”
Bob stared blearily at Steve. “Well . . . yes. I guess so.”
“What will happen to us?”
“You and Becky have been most kind to me. I will speak to the Commander, and you will be placed in my care.” Bob belched, and grinned benevolently.
“So, Bec and I can be your pets, but I think you’ll probably do away with everyone else on earth.”
Bob looked at his spaceship. “I’m af- afraid so. We have little use for- um- primitives.” He pressed another button on the garage-door opener, and a hatch opened in the side of the ship.
“Would you like to see the inside of my ship? You’ve been so kind; I’m sure the Commander would love to meet you, if you wanted to come with me.”
“Sure, I’d love to see what it’s like inside.”
Bob staggered through the hatch, and Steve followed. Once they were inside, he hit him in the back of the head with the tire iron.
“But I’m not going with you, you son of a bitch. I’m going to make sure the Commander gets a real good impression of our ‘primitive society’.”
Steve grabbed the garage-door opener from where Bob had dropped it and returned to his truck for the insect fogger he had in the back. He blew insecticide inside the spaceship until it was good and full, pressed the buttons on the remote until the hatch started to close, then tossed it inside.
He figured that the ship would either return to where Bob’s friends were waiting for him, or they would summon it back eventually. Either way, Bob would hopefully be dead by the time he got back to his mothership, or whatever, and his fellow invaders were in for a very toxic surprise from Earth.
Steve got in his truck and drove away. He would have to tell Becky, how Bob really had been an alien sent to check out the habitability of earth, but he wasn’t sure she’d believe him. Maybe he wouldn’t believe it himself, in the morning. He just hoped that things at work never got this exciting again.