They bunched them up, trying to avoid the wind and rain. The leaves were supple like good leather.
The requirements were communicated through a series of minute movements and ancient ritualistic fluttering of the eyes. It was exhausting.
She saw the bruise spread quickly over her torso. The alien alphabet was clearly discernible. She wondered how much toothpaste was left in the house.
True–recitation of the sacred poem was jumbled, but claims that most of it was improvised was a crude, inflammatory accusation.
Instructions were relayed via a sequence of short, explosive and toxic gastrointestinal events.
Three suns rose that morning. The astronauts slathered themselves with fresh butter for the final ceremonies.
Being accepted into the colony meant having to feed them in new, unusual ways. This task was delegated.
When the primeval bird-thing grabbed the rubbery legs of the mammoth rog there were shrieks of jealousy from the others on the perch.
“When we meet them you must remember to never look at their proboscis–never, ever look directly at their proboscis.”
The glow of monitors devoured the emptiness of endless alien inquiry.
Selecting the wrong option from the twelve obscure alien languages in the kiosk will result in long term aphasia and possible transmigration.
The alien couple wanted to negotiate over the pulverized remains of the crew that was piled politely into perfect boxes.
The broadcast continued for millenia, that wet, squelching sound beaming directly into space.
The landscape looked like a coffee stain, and the sky was peppered with angry points of light.
Over the next few days slabs of it heated up and slid off the alien roofs–leaving mounds of the stuff blocking escape tunnels.