101 Words

A huge alien spaceship suddenly materialized over Chicago, joined moments later by two others.

Immediately, the U.S. army mobilized, but they held their fire. Communications were sent up, but for one anxious hour, nothing came back. Then the ships began broadcasting the same indecipherable message: Xxalktrrp44#50-71-kdr#jj?

The message kept coming. Many feared war.

All cannons, laser beams, and top-secret weapons were aimed at the ships.

Just before firing, the army’s line rang.

“Don’t fire!” the intelligence officer yelled. “The linguists cracked the code!”

“War?” the general asked, heart pounding.

“No, they want to know if they can get their parking validated…?

“What are you doing with that on your head?” Molly screamed at her youngest son, who paced without pants and a pumpkin around his head. She seized his hands, pressing her ear against the vegetable.

“I was carving pumpkins for our party tonight, Mom. With George. Then he did this to me,” he turned his palms to the ceiling.

Before Molly could make out those words, another pumpkin smashed through her head. A convulsed chuckle filled the room. George held his belly tight so that it wouldn’t burst. Amidst the muffled screaming and laughter, three knocks echoed from the front door.

“Not dying, Doctor; I’m dead.”

“Come come, my dear, have I not just felt your pulse? A little quick, a trifle erratic, but I assure you, very much alive.”

“Ah, Doctor… It is not my pulse you felt. And it fades, fades fast… Soon, alas, it will beat no more and to survive I must draw vital life from another. That is my unholy pact with the devil!”

“Nonsense. A morbid fantasy. I do not, cannot, believe in the devil. Nor do I believe in the undead.”

“No? Then you can’t possibly believe it will be your life I steal next!”

“Loan approved!”

Finally, I’d raised the funds to finance our family vacation.

Every morning was mimosas and toast, every sunset a new shade of orange. The kids snorkeled with sharks! VR recordings to relive at home. But then I missed a payment. Interest piled up. Phone calls every hour.

The loan terms were clear. I led my family, droopy-eyed, back to the bank.

~

“Please, take your seats in the repossession modules.” The loan officer beckoned to a row of chairs bolted with straps, metal skullcaps dangling from above.

They’d take the car later. First, they’d have to repossess our memories.

Dad repaints the kitchen walls white. Mother painted it lavender before she left.

“White’s sensible,” he says. “Orderly. That’s a kitchen.”

He paints with cold precision. Any fleck of purple is suppressed.

Mother loved lavender.

“The color of dreams and expression,” she said, brushing away tears. “Sadness too.”

“Dad’s a realist,” she added.

I wish I responded. Maybe she’d have taken me with her.

Wish in one hand, shit in the other, Dad says.

One night, I start painting. Lavender. I paint with swiftness, imagining her smiling. I imagine a father who can dream. I try to smile. It’s too crooked.

“I always count all Facebook comments on my posts and compare the total to the number shown.”

Jackie’s face didn’t know what to do. “Why? Why would you do that? Why would anyone feel the need to do that?”

Maud raised her hands as if invoking the gods of rain. “I have enemies.”

Jackie played along. “And these enemies, what do they do? Manipulate the comments to mess with your head?” She shook her head and started to walk away. Maud stood squarely in front of her, blocking her path, prayer hands fisted.

“You have blocked me.”

“Indeed, I have. Touche.”