Danny Flash and the Alien Crash

CHAPTER SIX:

Inside there were no wires at all.  At least none that I could see.  There was a tiny captain's chair, and an array of lights and buttons and knobs; all so small that if I were to put my finger inside and try to press one I'd probably press four or five in the process. The captain's chair was empty.

"This isn't a missile," I realized. "It's a rocket ship.   I leaned far to the right to peer as deep into the rocket ship as I could.  There was no one or nothing to be seen, other than the flashing lights of the dashboard, and the small arched handles of what looked like a control stick in front of the captain's chair.

I repositioned my body, and leaned far to the left, and saw more of the same lights, but as I looked down at the base of the floor, I saw a tiny shoe.  I reached out to touch the shoe. As my finger was placed gently on top of the smooth red surface of the shoe it retracted and pulled back. Suddenly the tiny, green face of a little creature peered out from the hole, arms reaching around the opening, to keep its balance.

I doubled back and tripped over the leg of one of my chairs, landing hard on my butt.

"Ouch," I screamed.

"Oww-wouch," the thing said.

I stood up, and cocked my head to the side quizzically, looking at this tiny miniature... alien?

"What are you?" I asked.

"What are you?" the thing replied.

"I asked you first." I said.

"I asked you first," the thing replied. I realized it was simply repeating what I said.

I wheeled my chair back over to the desk, sat down, and leaned my face in a little closer than was comfortable. The thing stepped out from behind the concave in the ship where it was hiding, and stood feet planted firmly, shoulder length apart, facing me. It didn't seem scared, more protective.  It realized that it was smaller, but it wasn't afraid that it was smaller. The green thing wore, as I mentioned, tiny red shoes. The surfaces were smooth and looked like rubber.  It had on a silver jumpsuit with tiny little stars sparkling in the light.

Around its waist it had several vials and tubes, which wrapped around its waist on some type of belt. It might have been leather, but it was so tiny it was hard to tell. The tubes pumped and swirled and moved, driven by some inner mechanism. All the tubes were interconnected. You could see the fluids moving from one to another, back and forth, back and forth, mixing all the colors of the rainbow; I squinted because I thought that maybe there were some colors in there I'd never seen before.

On his chest there was some type of emblem. It was a circle, and it had rings like a planet, but the rings went up and down. I looked down at my own pajamas, where there was a planet with the rings that went up and down.

The thing saw me break my gaze, and stare down at my own clothing, and so it too dropped its gaze and naturally stared at my pajamas.

"Za Lockie," it said.

I looked back up at the little thing.

"Zucchini?" I asked.

"Za Lockie," it said again, pointing one of its three fingers on its right arm, up towards my pajamas. At the end of its finger was a tiny suction cup.  Almost like you would see on a frog, but more disproportionate to the tiny little digits that spewed out from its palm.

"Za Lockie," I repeated, and pointed at the planet. I outstretched my finger towards the thing, and took a step back, but only to make sure that I wouldn't touch it. Again, it was not looking scared, just protective. I centered my finger on the emblem, on his suit.  It looked down, looked back up, pointed at its own chest where the emblem was and confirmed, "Za Lockie."

"Is that where you're from?" I asked.

"Is that where you're from?" it repeated.

"No," I said.

He looked back at me and simply blinked.

I took this to mean that he somehow understood that if he repeated me here he would discredit the true nature of what he was trying to tell me that Za Lockie was his home planet.  Communication is an interesting thing.  They say that fifty-five percent of all communication is non-verbal.  Well, if I was going to understand this little thing it'd have to be one hundred percent.

"Danny," my mom yelled out. I stumbled back again, this time catching my balance before I fell on my butt. I was getting quicker on my feet.

The little thing disappeared back in the enclave, inside the ship, where it had been hiding before.

"Danny," my Mother yelled again.

"What on earth is all this mud doing on the floor?"  Her voice shot like an arrow up the stairwell to my room.

You never forget that you're living with your parents, but I was the closest thing to forgetting at that moment.  Her voice startled me. I was so engrossed with the rocket ship and tiny being in front of me,  I had forgotten that I had parents in the house and a school that I was supposed to be getting ready for.  What was I going to do? I couldn't very well pick up the ship and hide it with this little thing inside.  It may stay in the ship for the remainder of the day until I came back but most likely it wouldn't.  Most likely it would roam around the house and get into my sister's things and she, who didn't have to go to school yet, would probably find it and think it was a doll!  Oh, the horrors it would experience if she were to pick it up and shake it around and drool all over hits head!

I reached my hand out and put it at the base of the door.  The thing peeked its head out again, making eye contact with me, its little, black eyes conveying a quizzical look.  I put my hand on my chest.

"Friend," I said, not really knowing if I was a friend.  I felt like perhaps I could be.  I knew that I was a nice boy.  I knew that if unprovoked, I would not be the one provoking.  But I wasn't sure if this little thing was truly a friend.

But still, I carried on and patted my chest again.

"Friend," I said.

The little thing came back out, patted his own chest on top of his emblem.

"Friend," it said, as it hopped into my hand.