Plugs

Kat Beyer’s Cabal story “A Change In Government” has been nominated for a BSFA award for best short fiction.

Jason Fischer has a story appearing in Jack Dann’s new anthology Dreaming Again.

Read Daniel Braum’s story Mystic Tryst at Farrgo’s Wainscot #8.

Read Rudi’s story “Detail from a Painting by Hieronymus Bosch” at Behind the Wainscot.

Archive for the ‘Trent Walters’ Category

In Service

Friday, March 4th, 2011

We humans have found ways to cope with the Ratters’ “friendly invasion.”   Cowards stain carpets with hara-kiri.  The blithe pretend that the aliens have not arrived, driving to work while ignoring saucers whirring overhead.  The timid hide in sewers and damp basements–the first places the Ratters look.  And sycophants believe they are the future of humanity, ratting out fellow humans.  The only true survivor is you who hold this reading slate, you who cannot be a Ratter because the slate would self-destruct if your reflective eyes gazed upon it, you who cannot read this aloud because it would detect spoken language and explode with enough force to bring a Ratter ship crashing to the earth.  You desire to undermine their place on this planet until they can be properly exterminated.  Presently, three methods of success include lip service, pay, and pompous yet low roles in the government.

Foremost, give lip service.  Admire their strength and their tails’ roughened metallic texture.  What separates you from the sycophants?  Palm moisture:  Sycophants sweat in awe of rats and in fear of being cornered by humans.  We will lure the Ratters into the arena.  Stage boxing matches between humans and aliens.  Let the aliens win.  “Ooh” and “aah” their prowess.  But reserve one human champion.  Pay whatever it costs to buy the fight because humans need hope.  Remember:  We are among the weakest of Earth’s predators, yet we reign supreme.  Viva Darwin!

Yet we best not underestimate their evolutionary climb.  Seek to undermine their will in other ways:  paying them less, or paying more while taking away other privileges.  Don’t pay in cheese, or if you do, severely limit their diet.  Low-calorie diets keep them prepubescently under six foot.  High-calorie diets allow them to tower to twelve foot, intimidating to any human.  Find ways to restrict hiring any creature over six and a half feet–low ceiling heights, small offices and closets, etc.  This hurts a few humans as well, but we can compensate these humans in other ways.

Neither of these methods alone would stop the Ratters from getting suspicious.  Therefore, we need to elevate their statuses artificially.  Promote them into prominent yet piddling roles in business and government.  Presidents are fine so long as their human cabinets and CEOs make the critical decisions.  If trouble arises, accidents can happen.

We humans presently appear to have the short end of the stick, but our evolutionary genius has helped us beat stronger predators before.  It will again.

Dive

Monday, January 31st, 2011

Dear editor:

Your blog doesn’t have the guts to print this.   Aliens are menacing our streets.  They’re invading our borders, making love to our women, and taking our jobs.  The time to act is now.

The aliens first arrived in an iridescent bubble, freely crossing Earth’s atmospheric border–our first mistake.  That’s what my friend Mustafa told me.  He said they shook hands with the president–our second mistake.  Anyone, that I know who likes them, has been brainwashed.  If they even brush your skin, they skim your mind and learn what pleases you.  Everybody knows what they do to anuses.  If we’d just patrol or, better yet, shut down our borders, we wouldn’t have this problem.

Second, women are falling head over heels for these guys.  I mean, come on, they look like rodents with their big black eyes, long snouts, white fur coats that make them look like doctors or mad scientists, and long, whip-like metallic tails, which can slice open a can of sardines or batter innocent young children when no one’s observing.  Who could fall in love with that?  But women do.  One lady was walking hand-in-hand with an alien near Times Square.  When he stopped to buy hot dogs from a vendor, I asked why she was with him.  She shot me a disgusted look (me a fellow human being while the alien she loved).  She said he kept creeps like me away.  I asked Mustafa if he’d gotten any since the aliens arrived.  He said no.  I hadn’t either.

Third and most important, they’re putting us out of work.  I have friends, now unemployed, who worked as sewage divers.  Lounging in the Baptist Shelter, they said aliens have swarmed the industry.  They’ve taken over animal-insemination businesses and major political offices.  Reporters tell us aliens only do the jobs that nobody wants, but have they asked the people who became unemployed?  The kicker is that politicians made it so only properly licensed individuals can dumpster dive.  That’s my trade.  Neither Mustafa nor I live legally, crouching fearfully in fragrant dumpsters as aliens in patrol cars siren passed.  Why is it that all licensed divers look like rodents?

So who’s next?  Today, it’s the dumpster divers, tomorrow the trash collectors.  When will it be your job?  The world is in dire straits.  If we don’t act soon, we may be destined for the compost pile of extinction… or worse.

Signed,

Dumpster Dave

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