Eerie, Indiana triple drabble: Road Trip
The night sky was alive with stars, and the silvery whisper of their voices blazed bright comet trails across the velvet black firmament. An oblate spheroid (kind of round and squishy) hurtled by, the strange glyphs around it's midsection pulsing with rainbow-coloured lights. A long queue of flying saucers inched slowly towards the great office parks north of Saturn, the vacuum of space echoing with the impatient beeping of horns. A billboard of cosmic dust flickered red on black, warning drivers of another speed trap in the skies over Indiana.
"I heard they don't even use even real speed cameras," said one squirming mass of tentacles, crammed in the back of his progenitor's wood-panelled space craft with a dozen of his litter-mates. "It's just a couple of small humans with binoculars."
The youngest child shook her eyestalks wildly in disagreement.
"Nu-uh," she said. "One of my friends told me that his uncle worked with a lady who knows someone who got caught speeding on their way back from an Elvis concert. They got thrown in Earth-jail but they escaped because someone else wrote a lot of rude words in the cornfield and the men in rubber suits went out to chase them."
"The men in rubber suits are a total urban legend," said another child, whose tentacles curled tight around his many yellow-green eyes and gave the impression he was wearing spectacles. "Only hatchlings believe those stories."
The youngest child sagged back against her seat and stared at the ground. All her lower lips were trembling.
"Don't be a jerk, Bob," said the first speaker, and gave his sibling a good hard pinch on the ganglion for emphasis. Bob squalled, either at the pain or the insulting nickname.
"Keep it down back there!" their progenitor boomed over it's shoulder.
"I heard they don't even use even real speed cameras," said one squirming mass of tentacles, crammed in the back of his progenitor's wood-panelled space craft with a dozen of his litter-mates. "It's just a couple of small humans with binoculars."
The youngest child shook her eyestalks wildly in disagreement.
"Nu-uh," she said. "One of my friends told me that his uncle worked with a lady who knows someone who got caught speeding on their way back from an Elvis concert. They got thrown in Earth-jail but they escaped because someone else wrote a lot of rude words in the cornfield and the men in rubber suits went out to chase them."
"The men in rubber suits are a total urban legend," said another child, whose tentacles curled tight around his many yellow-green eyes and gave the impression he was wearing spectacles. "Only hatchlings believe those stories."
The youngest child sagged back against her seat and stared at the ground. All her lower lips were trembling.
"Don't be a jerk, Bob," said the first speaker, and gave his sibling a good hard pinch on the ganglion for emphasis. Bob squalled, either at the pain or the insulting nickname.
"Keep it down back there!" their progenitor boomed over it's shoulder.