Soldering the two antennae together was more difficult than it first appeared–the squirming was violent and distracting.
That bucket was half full of primordial soup, the other half was roaming around trying out exciting new flippers.
The soundtrack was familiar, the rhythm intoxicating, the man-eating plants dissuading.
The flesh pods were meant to be assigned, however hoarders decimated the supply, resulting in mounds of unallocated biomass.
“We found it bundled up in an old army blanket in the trunk. It almost matches the others, except it has too many fingers.”
A dozen self-driving trucks rolled into town that night, each decorated with the friendly, colorful and trusted Yum Incorporated logo.
The team first believed these were birds’ nests, on closer inspection they proved to be a delightful alien incursion.
There was a sign in red lettering above the control room: “ONE MUST OBEY THE MIND SPIDERS”.
“Beyond an hour, we’ll have to send out the probes. The last thing you want to hear is ‘we’ve sent out the probes’.”
The outside surface appeared vast and crystalline, the inside was close and like old leather.
He turned off the empty highway, the car lights catching sight of people penned in, naked and milling around.
Afterwards he switched on the emergency radio where static was punctuated by occasional grunting.
They swarmed into the hall, corralling the guests into lucrative pods.
A screaming terror arrived that morning, also everyone’s joints hurt and they were a little headachy.
Two sets of eyes peered at them over the top, that’s when the claxons went off.