area 22
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“How can you taste anything if you can’t smell?”
I was busy in the kitchen making biscuits.
“I don’t know, Patrice, you tell me.”
She didn’t say. I could see heat waves off the oven. It was 11:32 on a Sunday. Long night last night.
Our horrible dog kept running around and licking my legs. I put it in the backyard and threw a stick. The dog jumped and missed.
Patrice was inside eating butter out of the container with a spoon. I went into the day room and looked out the window. The clouds looked up. There was dust in the air and the window broke.
It was so loud and bright I forgot about the coffee table until it shattered. The sirens started as I hit the floor. Apparently we were prepared. I wasn’t.
I thought it was funny that UFOs looked exactly like on cartoons. Flying saucers!
Patrice was out back and the dog launched a stick up in the air with its mouth. She jumped and caught it. “What the fuck?” I ran upstairs and grabbed the shotgun. If aliens come, I’ll show up.
There was a knocking on the door. I was all sweaty. The handle turned. “Fuck, I forgot to lock the door.” A tall green man stood there. He had two little gray guys behind him. “Ayy, lmao.” They just stood there.
I unloaded two shells and they just stood there. “Ayy, lmao?” I slipped and fell back into the kitchen. They came inside. Outside through the glass door I saw Patrice and the dog. They were dancing or something. I grabbed a knife and eyed the stairs.
The aliens came into the kitchen. They opened the oven. One of the little gray guys tried to pick up the baking sheet and burnt his hand. “Ayy, lmao!” it cried out in pain. The other gray guy squirted some foam on the first one’s hand. “Ayy, lmao,” they agreed as they hugged each other. The green guy looked at me.
I put on oven mitts. I took the biscuits out. They gathered around. The green guy placed a device over his mouth and spoke: “How can you taste anything if you can’t smell?”