Alien Coffee

Published by John H. Carroll at
Smashwords

Copyright 2011 John H. Carroll

Cover image Copyright 2011 John H.
Carroll

Cover photography by Tracy Carroll

Alien hand model: Jessica Jorgenson

This story is dedicated to Kit, who
constantly tries to drink from an empty cup.

All characters
appearing in this work are fictitious.
Any resemblance to real aliens, living or dead, is purely
coincidental . . . so far as you know.

Names have been changed to protect the
aliens.

Table of
Contents

Beginning

About the Author

Jillian tried to
take a sip of her coffee only to look at the barren mug in disgust
before setting it back down with a sigh. It was already the third
time her cup had inexplicably become empty that morning. She should
probably trudge downstairs to make a fresh pot, but didn’t want to.
Knowing her, she’d probably load the dishwasher and clean cat puke
from the carpet again.

The sound of birds singing came through the
open window to provide a stark contrast to the band “Letters From
The Fire” playing in the background.
Jillian
paused the hard rock music with her remote
and walked over
to look out the window at a beautiful spring morning. A light
breeze carried the scent of pine trees through the air and she
inhaled deeply, feeling tension in her shoulders release. She was
startled when a young bull moose called out in a baritone moan from
the thick trees below.

The amount of wildlife outside her house
never ceased to amaze Jillian. Bears, raccoons, wolves, deer and
numerous smaller animals traveled through the secluded mountain
forests where she and her husband lived peacefully. They moved to
Priest Lake in Northern Idaho three years earlier after a
multi-week expedition spent looking for a place to relocate from
New York.

Summertime would draw a lot of tourists
zipping around the lakes and camping along the shorelines, but
their house was far enough away not to be bothered. In the
distance, she could see a few boats floating casually on the
tranquil waters, high from spring runoff after a winter of heavy
snow. It was too far away to tell if the people were fishing or
just out for pleasure underneath the clear blue skies.

She stretched muscles tight from hunching
over manuscripts. Later on, she would do her daily yoga, which
helped keep her mentally focused and physically healthy. Jillian
didn’t consider herself very pretty. She had short brown hair,
muddy green eyes her husband Raymond loved to stare into, and a
complexion pale from staying inside way too often. It was all
wrapped up in an adequately shaped five foot five package.

Jillian looked sadly at the empty mug before
picking it up and heading downstairs. A half hour later, she came
back upstairs. The dishwasher was loaded and two spots where the
cats had thrown up were clean.

The manuscript she was editing was yet
another paranormal romance. It consisted of a misunderstood
zombie-vampire who was in love with a weretroll. Luckily she only
had to copy edit instead of content editing or else she’d just burn
it, but there were so many mistakes it looked like her red pen was
bleeding all over it.

She went to take a sip of her coffee only to
realize she hadn’t brought it with her. With a groan of
exasperation, Jillian stomped back downstairs to retrieve it. It
was sitting on the counter, half-empty.
I must have been
drinking it while loading the dishwasher.
She didn’t remember
drinking any, but staring at manuscripts all day made her
absent-minded.

A few minutes later, she was sitting back at
her desk, deep into editing. Time passed as she crossed out extra
words, unnecessary sentences and fixed numerous punctuation errors.
The writer had decided that everything needed semicolons instead of
commas. Jillian sighed and attempted another drink of coffee.

It was empty.
Again!
She could have
sworn she hadn’t drunk all of it, yet there wasn’t even a drop in
the bottom. With a growl of frustration, she slammed her pen on the
manuscript and stood up. Jillian grabbed the cup and stomped down
the stairs yet again to refill it.

Fifteen minutes later she climbed back up the
stairs with a bowl of fresh cut fruit. Jillian set it on the
computer desk and prepared to check her favorite sites. Before
sitting, she stomped back down the stairs to get the coffee she had
forgotten yet again.

A short while later she was reading an
article on how ereaders were nearing their death. It seemed silly
considering they had only just become popular. Before taking a
drink, she looked at the cup. Sure enough, it was empty again.
Jillian was
certain
she had only taken a couple of sips.

“Alright! Who drank my coffee?!” she called
out while standing up suddenly. “Raymond, are you doing this?”
Jillian knew her husband wasn’t there, but couldn’t think of who
else might be taking her drink. In frustration, she swung her arm
back and forth violently as she walked back to the stairs.

Her arm slammed hard into something unseen at
the top step, causing Jillian to freeze in shock. Everything was
still and silent for a brief moment before a vague silhouette
appeared halfway down the stairs then tumbled to the bottom. The
thud of a body hitting the bottom was abrupt and loud.

Jillian stared at the alien figure that
materialized. Its skin was yellow green and mottled, appearing
somewhat slimy. The being was dressed in a tight silver suit with a
utility belt and what appeared to be a holstered gun on one of its
three legs. The limbs were set at even intervals, two to the sides
and one behind like a tripod. Its face was wide with three
horizontal, deep-set blue eyes. It had four ears, two set
vertically on each side of its oversized bald head. Its mouth was a
tubular appendage with big puckered lips like those found in a bad
comic book.

“You pushed me down the stairs, dude! That
hurt!” it accused. Odd sounds came from the puckered lips while the
words Jillian heard came from the collar of its silver suit. She
instantly got the impression it had some sort of translating device
like sci-fi authors wrote about in several of the stories she
edited. Its voice wasn’t tinny like in those stories, it was high
pitched and nasal, yet sounded vibrant as though spoken with a
human’s tone.

The creature grabbed a railing with one of
its three hands, if that’s what they were, and stood up. Each arm
had three fingerlike appendages with suction tips like an octopus.
It was comprised of threes: three arms, three legs and three eyes.
The four ears and one mouth seemed very much out of place. Jillian
couldn’t see any sort of a nose.

“Dude! Are you just going to stare like a
nitwit? You pushed me down the stairs and broke the invisibility
thingy.” The alien, as Jillian figured it must be, smacked a square
silver box on the left side of its belt a few times. The device had
a blue pad that looked to be cracked. All three eyes focused on
her. “I know you can speak. How about an apology, Jillian?”

The fact that it knew her name alarmed her.
Jillian opened her mouth to speak, only to let out a long, piercing
shriek of terror instead. She was dismayed by her own delayed
reaction. Only girls in horror movies were supposed to behave like
that. Jillian was a sensible woman who could handle emergencies, or
so she thought before being faced by a slimy looking creature who
knew her name.

The alien cringed at the sound, pulling back
and covering its ears with two hands. After the scream died down,
it put one hand on a hip and a second out to the side in a gesture
of disbelief. The third, which was in the middle of its back,
reached up and rubbed its bald head. “Really? You push me down the
stairs, stare at me like I’m a monster or something and then scream
at me?” It continued to move its lips and make the odd squishy
sounds.

“Wha . . . wha . . . who . . . how . . . I .
. . gah,” Jillian stammered. She was very proud of herself for
saying that much instead of fainting considering how lightheaded
she felt.

“That didn’t even translate a little bit. Was
that the apology?” it asked. It had a single, ridged eyebrow above
all three eyes. “Tell you what, you make me a fresh cup of coffee
and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

“Coffee?” Jillian asked incredulously.
Realization dawned and she took a few angry steps down the
staircase, momentarily forgetting that she was speaking to an
alien. “Wait a minute, you’re the one stealing my coffee?” She
snapped her fingers. “I knew I wasn’t going crazy!” Jillian looked
at the alien staring at her from the bottom of the steps and
changed her mind about the crazy part. “Then again . . . maybe it’s
worse than I thought.”

“Oh, you’re not crazy.” The alien rubbed its
chin with the right hand. “You
are
in a lot of trouble
though.” It stopped rubbing the chin and waggled a suction cup
finger at her. “You aren’t supposed to see me. This is really
bad.”

Jillian became irritated. “I’m in trouble?
You break into my house, steal my coffee when I’m not looking,
complain about me knocking you down the stairs when I can’t see you
because you’re invisible,” she gasped in a breath, “and then you
tell me
I’m in trouble
? You’ve got a lot of nerve!”

It folded its front arms and kneaded its head
with the third. “Hmm . . . The door wasn’t locked so I didn’t
technically break in.” Jillian’s only response was to hold her arms
out to her sides in disbelief. The alien looked around and then
back at her. “Let’s not argue about the details. Make us some
coffee and we’ll figure out how to get you out of this mess.”

“I’m not making anything,” Jillian stated
firmly. She pointed at the door. “Get out of my house and don’t
ever come back.”

“Dude! I need coffee!” The alien blurted
desperately. It began pushing and pulling against its face with the
fingers of the left hand. Each time they would make a little
sucking noise. Its right hand gripped the stair rail tightly. “I
need coffee
real bad
.”

It was acting like an addict looking for the
next fix. “You’re starting to scare me,” Jillian told it. As the
words came out of her mouth, she realized she was far beyond
scared.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” it said, holding out
both front hands to reassure her. “Listen, you can call me Sclurp.
That’s about as close to my name as your language can get.” It took
a few steps into the living room and looked around. “You’ve got a
really nice place.”

“Gee thanks . . . Sclurp. I’d still like you
to leave and never come back.” Jillian pointed to the door again.
“Please go.”

“Listen . . . I’m an amazing kisser and I’m
good at other things too. I’m male if that matters, and your
husband doesn’t have to know.” Sclurp waggled his fuzzy eyebrow.
“Just make me some coffee and I’ll show you.” He made kissing
sounds with his lips.

“Eww! Go away!” Jillian’s voice broke in fear
as she looked around for something to throw. The only thing within
reach on one of the steps was the cat’s little plastic ball with
jingly bells in it. She picked it up and heaved it at the alien.
The bells made a tiny dinging sound as it bounced off the round
head.

“Really?” he responded flatly. “That’s what
you’re going to throw at me, a little jingly ball? Wow. I better
leave before you hit me with something deadly . . . like a
feather.” He crossed his front arms again. “Seriously, I need a fix
real bad. Make me some coffee and I’ll go away. Dude, you can trust
me.”

“Would you quit calling me dude?!” Jillian
really didn’t know what to do. She debated calling Raymond, but was
afraid the alien would zap her if she moved toward the phone. The
fact that it offered to kiss her was really freaking her out.
Sclurp was about six feet tall, skinny and not at all attractive,
let alone the fact he was an
alien!

“Make me some coffee or . . . or I’ll keep
calling you dude!” It began speaking in rapid-fire succession.
“Dude, dude, dude, dude, dude . . .”

“Fine! I’ll make you coffee, but you have to
promise to go away and stop saying dude!” she pleaded
desperately.

“I will totally go away,” it bargained
readily. “Coffeeeeeee.” Sclurp did a fist pump and quickly shuffled
into the kitchen on all three legs. When Jillian didn’t follow
right away, he stuck his head back through the kitchen door.
“Coffeeeeeee.”

“Okay!” Jillian stomped down the stairs in a
daze, wondering what she could possibly do to get out of the
situation. On the way down, she pinched her arm hard to make sure
she wasn’t in a nightmare. The alien was still there so she pinched
again just to be on the safe side. It didn’t work.