Morning in the City

“I’m back, you know.”

“Yes dear.”

The space ship sent by God was landing in the living room as the coffee brewed.  

“Have you had any more visitations?”  

“Just the one you witnessed.  The vegetables have been complaining of late. “

The little people stepped out of the saucer and opened folding tables and chairs on the counter.

“I asked you not to let them in.”  

“I tried but they materialized when I close the vents.”

“Have they said what they wanted.”

‘I don’t understand space language.”

“Well you took a linguistics course at university. I could only hope.”

‘Right.”

“So they like the apples and bananas and yoghurt.”

“It seems.”

The space ships had a lot of lights on it and the little furry cuddly looking creatures little more than an inch tall had setttled into their tea party on the counter every once in a while getting up to cut off bits of fruit.  They’d already punctured a hole in the yoghurt container with a pink weapon beam of some sort.

For a moment they watched them, drinking their coffee.

“Were they up north? “

“Yes, everywhere I went there were sightings.  We’re rather fortunate they like our place.  Others have never had a visit.”

“I wonder why.”

“Did you see the news?”

“Yes it was bizarre as usual.  One politician wanting to attack them, another incorporating them into a marketing jingo and the last one wanting to tax them. That’s appalling.  Very Canadian. Insisting they give over their secrets for using the air space.  Taxing their breath like they do the people.”

“We don’t even know if they use O2.’

“I know. It’s all so ridiculous.”

“But it’s taken our attention off war.”

“For the time. I saw a competition for microscopic weapons development and poisonous gas.”

“That should be something since we don’t even know what they breathe or even if they digest the yoghurt, bananas and apple.”

‘The coffee is good this morning.”

“Yes isn’t it.”