"So," I ask, a bit unsteadily, "what are you doing here?"
There is the crinkling sound of a bag of potato chips opening in the passenger seat next to me. I keep my eyes fixed on the road, and my hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Most people agree with me when I say that I am a pretty imaginative person. Given that, of course, I have pictured this scenario countless times before.
However, nothing quite prepares a person for the real thing.
The tiny, fuzzy creature—alien—next to me trills. It is no bigger than a softball and has six cute eyes. I think it sounds happy, so I nod and smile encouragingly.
"That sounds like a lot of fun," I reply.
Honestly, what else could I say? I turn and take the next on-ramp to the freeway.
"Any particular place you want to go?"
The alien trills again, this time in a series of varying pitches, and I want to hit my head against the wheel in defeat. This conversation is going nowhere.
"Wonderful," I say.

YOU ARE READING
And the Stars Answered
Science FictionIt's not an adventure without alien hitchhikers, a little lost time, and the entire multiverse collapsing. This is a collection of science fiction and slipstream stories, all under 500 words, from throughout the multiverse. It's weird and crazy-and...