Aliens for Dinner (2 page)

Breakfast the next morning was not a happy meal. Every time Richard thought of the way Bob had said good night he practically choked on his waffle. His mother was dating an alien! And she didn’t even know it!

“Richard, honey, you’re not eating,” his mother said to him from across the table. She put down the Sunday paper. “I’m beginning to worry about you.”

And I’m already worried about you
, thought Richard.
Your new boy friend probably has an antenna behind his ear
. But all he said was, “I’m okay, Mom. Just not too hungry.”

“Try to eat a little,” said his mother. Then something in the paper caught her eye. “I don’t believe this!” she said. “The oil spill is getting bigger. And nobody seems to know why.”

“Bad news!” Aric’s voice boomed into Richard’s head. Richard dropped his fork. He always forgot that the alien could speak to him this way—as if he were inside Richard’s brain. Actually, he was inside Richard’s pocket.

“It is the aliens,” said Aric. “Pollution levels will rise sharply from now on. We must move with speed!”

Richard jumped up from the table. “Got to go, Mom,” he said. “Think I’ll take a ride on my bike.”

“Be back in time for lunch, Richard,” said his mother. “We’re having company.”

“Okay! I hear you,” muttered Richard as he raced out the door. But he wasn’t talking to his mother. He was talking to Aric, who was telling him to get to the oil spill—fast.

    Richard hunched over his racing bars
and pedaled hard. Ten minutes later, he was at the beach. He dropped his bike and walked down a wooden ramp onto the sand. The beach was empty. Richard was surprised. Lately there were always people here, working to clean up the spill—including Henry and a bunch of kids from their class. Henry was the captain of the school’s Green Patrol. He was really serious about the environment.

Richard pulled Aric out of his pocket. “Funny that nobody’s here,” he said.

“Look again,” said Aric. He pointed at the water.

The sky was dark and overcast and the ocean was rough. At first all Richard saw
were the waves breaking, and beyond that the spill—a great big sludgy mass of black liquid floating on the green of the ocean. It smelled bad—like rotten eggs. It had never smelled this bad before, thought Richard. And it
did
look a lot bigger than it had just a few days ago.

Richard felt a little like choking. His eyes began to tear. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with his jacket sleeve. When he put his glasses back on, he finally saw what Aric was pointing at.

“Eeyow!” he gasped. “I don’t believe it!” There, swimming right in the middle of the sludge, were four—no, five—guys! They were wearing bathing caps, and bobbing
up and down in the slick as if they were on a trampoline. They were totally covered with black, smelly oil. Not only that, they were slapping each other on the back and laughing!

“Meet the Dwilbs,” said Aric grimly.

“Agh! Gross!” said Richard. He felt sick.

And then they spotted him. “Hi, there! Hi, there!” they called. “Come on in! Come on in!” Richard backed away.

“Aric!” he gasped. “How do we get rid of these guys? They’re really scary!”

“Ah … Uh …” The little alien didn’t really answer. Richard looked at him in alarm. “You
know
how to get rid of them, right?” Was it his imagination, or had Aric turned a deeper shade of pink?

“Of course I know,” said Aric. “Or to be more precise, I
did
know. Before I had to travel in that torture chamber you Earthlings call a fortune cookie. The trip has done something to my memory.”

“Oh no,” moaned Richard. “You mean you forgot?” Richard’s heart sank. Aric’s memory was terrible.

“It will come to me,” said Aric. “In time.”

“Join us! Join us!” squawked the aliens again. “It’s fun! It’s fun!” Richard flinched. They sounded so cheerful! He wanted to leave, but it was hard to tear his eyes away from them. His feet felt as if they were planted in the sand.

“Richard!” boomed Aric. “Snap out of it! Let us go back to your dwelling! Now!” Richard forced himself to turn away.

“Do not worry,” said Aric as Richard
pedaled home. “Things will get better—I swear by the Great Gazook.”

    But when Richard got home, things got worse. Bob showed up for lunch.

“Great chili, Harriet,” he said. “Great chili.” Then he started talking to Richard’s mother about his business—Bob’s Mighty Movers.

“A van for this, a truck for that—we’ll get you there in no time flat!” was his motto. He was thinking of using it in a radio commercial. “So, what do you think?” he asked Mrs. Bickerstaff. “What do you think?”

“I like it! I like it!” she said.

Richard’s jaw dropped. Was his mother turning into an alien, like Bob?

“Uh, Mom, may I be excused?” he asked hastily.

They hardly noticed when he left.

On his way to school the next morning Richard kept thinking about the Dwilbs and the oil spill. Every time he did, he felt a little sick.

Just as he got to the bus stop something hit his leg. It was a piece of newspaper. Richard picked it up. What was it doing here? He looked around. Newspaper, empty paper cups, and crumpled brown paper bags were everywhere. Normally the streets were pretty clean. Not now.

Aric could read Richard’s thoughts.
“Dwilbs,” he said tersely. “They—” He stopped. Richard had come to a sudden halt. Then he groaned.

“What is it, boy?” The alien climbed out of Richard’s pocket.

“Look, Aric. Over there!” They had come to the bus stop. A school bus had just pulled up and kids were climbing on. But Richard wasn’t pointing at them. He was pointing to the bus’s back fender.

Two pale, flabby men wearing straw porkpie hats were crouching behind the bus. They were sucking on its exhaust pipe.

“Agh!” exclaimed Richard. “They’re inhaling the fumes! And nobody’s paying any attention to them!” It was true. While the men took turns, kids just kept climbing onto the bus as if nothing was wrong.

Just then the men noticed him. “Try some?” one of them asked with a big smile. “Try some?”

“It’s really delicious,” said the other one. “Really delicious.”

Richard stood there. Could they be telling the truth…?

“Run!” Aric’s voice boomed in Richard’s head. Richard ran.

    He made it to school on time, but only because he ran the whole way. Once he was in class, though, his mind kept wandering.
He kept seeing the Dwilbs at the bus stop, and remembering how he almost couldn’t move when they talked to him.

Richard wondered if he should talk to Henry. Henry knew all kinds of facts and figures about pollution—he had turned into a real expert. Maybe he could come up with an idea to stop the Dwilbs.
Somebody’s got to
, thought Richard.

He decided to grab Henry the minute lunch period started. He and Henry always had lunch together, even though they didn’t trade sandwiches anymore. These days Henry was eating raw vegetables and goat cheese.

Richard couldn’t stand that healthy stuff. His idea of a good lunch was a Snickers bar and a jelly doughnut. Unfortunately, his mother didn’t see things his way. She made him tuna on whole wheat.

When the bell rang Richard jumped to his feet. Mrs. Marks, his teacher, stood up too.

“Just a moment, class,” she said. “Before you leave, I’d like some volunteers for beach
cleanup.” She looked expectantly at Henry. He always volunteered.

But Henry didn’t raise his hand, or even look up. He just tapped his foot as if he was bored. Mrs. Marks looked around the classroom. No one moved.

“Green Patrol?” she said. “Don’t you want to help?”

There was silence. “Not really,” said Henry slowly. Then he laughed. So did everyone else.

Richard’s mouth dropped open. What was going on? Why was Henry acting so weird?

“The Dwilbs are making progress.” Aric sent the thought to Richard. He sounded worried.

“I don’t understand you kids sometimes,” said Mrs. Marks. She sighed. “All right. Class dismissed.”

Richard grabbed his pack. Now it was more important than ever to talk to Henry. He hurried into the schoolyard. On warm days like today everyone liked to eat outside.

There were crowds of kids in the yard,
and they were all eating something Richard had never seen before. The stuff looked like soft ice cream or frozen yogurt, only it was a really dark color—almost black. It smelled bad, too. Richard wrinkled his nose. He couldn’t quite tell what the smell was—just that it reminded him of something he didn’t like.

Everyone was wolfing the stuff down. Richard was surprised to see that it came in Styrofoam cups, the kind nobody was supposed to use anymore. And kids were throwing the cups and plastic spoons on the ground when they were finished.
What is going on?
thought Richard.

“The Dwilbs have reached your schoolmates,” Aric said. His voice was tense. “I do not like this. They are moving very quickly.”

Then Richard saw Henry. His friend was making his way through the crowd to a little food cart at the end of the yard.

Richard followed him, kicking his way through piles of empty Styrofoam cups. There were about twenty kids at the cart. They were all shoving each other and waving
dollar bills and yelling, “Get out of my way!” “I’m next!” “No, I am!”

Above their voices came the cries of the food vendors—two pale, flabby guys wearing red plastic Jughead hats. “Frozen Sludgies!” they squawked. “Frozen Sludgies! Come and get ’em! Come and get ’em!” The smell at the stand was strong—almost overpowering. With a shock, Richard realized it was the smell of rotten eggs—the smell of the oil slick.

He started to feel nauseous. Aliens! They were showing up everywhere! And what were frozen Sludgies? For a second Richard’s mind stopped. The thought that came to him—that the aliens were selling a frozen dessert made from the oil slick—was so disgusting that he pushed it away.

Then he saw Henry buying a Sludgie from one of the aliens. “Don’t eat it!” gasped Richard.

But Henry didn’t hear him. As Richard watched, he began wolfing the mess down noisily, with his mouth open. He was acting as if he was in some kind of speed-eating contest. Sludge dribbled down his chin and
onto his shirt. Henry didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy eating.