To the casual observer, Jacob Jr. was just a kid galumphing through puddles in his galoshes. But, I knew better. I had seen Jacob Jr. and his “family” snacking on the toxic blooms that had overtaken their fenced-in yard. Also, once a month, the elder Jacob took a baseball bat to a hapless chick, after which, the six of them would take turns slurping up blood and down.
Puddle-jumping was the aliens' way of communicating. I had no idea how that worked, although it seemed to be very effective. Within minutes, Rosie, Eden, Bobby and Emily had joined Jacob Jr. in the yard, where they huddled over a particularly large puddle. They joined hands and–suddenly–wriggling antennae sprouted from their heads like airborne polliwogs.
The puddle began exploding with a wild profusion of nightshade and pasqueflower. The “kids” jumped into the center of this deadly flora and began gesticulating in an oddly mechanical, automated dance. The whole muddled mess fused into a stubby tree that looked just like an upside-down pineapple. Grey flowers, surrounded by purple and pink leaves, speckled the monstrosity.
After about five minutes, Jacob Sr. came out, hacked open the plant and let his spawn out. I watched the reentry of Jacob Jr., Eden, Bobby, Emily, Rosie…and, what was this? A new blob, bright pink with purple stubs for limbs, crawled from the trunk. The other six licked it clean and swaddled it in a beach towel.
That does it. I'm calling management. There are clearly too many folks in that house!
Copyright © 2019 by Mitchell Allen
Originally appeared on CreativeCopyChallenge #579.