|The Story||The Authors|
|Thus preoccupied by sorrow and the growling of his stomach, Officer Hickey sped through the night unhindered until the deer got in the way of his cruiser... at least, he thought it was a deer as he felt it ka-moof-kah hit the car and go under and he slammed on the brakes cursing swearing at too much death already in one day and now this, goddamnit, mother, taking the heavy flashlight from his belt and flicking it on and squatting slowly down on his haunches, about to peer beneath the car, when all of a sudden the most undeerlike of groans — followed by a series horribly squishy flopping sounds — escaped from the dark space under the car.|
|He shook his head, gulped, turned the luminescence on the flashlight to High, took a deep breath, and looked under the car...|
|and he saw a hideous face. It was green with orange teeth. He screamed and jumped back. He turned and ran down the road to his house. The green monster under the car...|
|ran after him. He was afraid that the man would run away and he would not be able to explain who he was. He wasn't really an alien. He was just an experiement gone wrong. His name was Alferd and he just wanted help.|
...a pair of yellow eyes blinked brightly back at Officer Hickey... |
"BOO!" came a voice...
Hickey leapt back as if from a striking snake,
tumbled over on his ass, smarting himself painfully on the forehead with the heavy flashlight.
"Sonofabitch!" he swore. "Scared you, didn't I? Nyuck nyuck nyuck nyuck nyuck." Jeremy Crink leapt up giggling from beneath the police cruiser. "Learned that trick offa CIT at Camp Komahnawanalaya Summer of 1978. Heh heh heh. You silly bastard, Hickey. Just ran off like that, leavin' yer poor Mammy on the floor..."
"What the hell are you talking about you goddamned looper?" exclaimed Hickey, leaping to his feet, slightly woozy from the flashlight's blow (which was already growing into a large discolored goose-egg protruding from Officer Hickey's sweat-streaked brow
"Hey — is this, like, that police brutality thing I keep reading about in the newspaper, dude? You guys need to chill out... I bet you get too much red meat in your diet..."
"What in Christ's name are you talking about, you, you, you nincompoop? My mother just hung herself and you're playin' goddamn pranks on me! I oughta haul your ass in..."
"Your mother's why I'm here, Matthew. I can't do anything with her body until you sign the death certificate in triplicate, not to mention the necessary release forms and other paperwork, so that we can get started on the complicated process of Bereavement Type-D Plan # (Indicate Client's Choice Here) Fulfillment. Not to mention the important factor of your personal formaldehyde selection."