Earth's Irken Visitors
Ava, Raz, Star, and Kal are four regular Irken citizens with boring, minimum-wage jobs. But they all win a much-needed vacation to "Earth." They each board on their ships and fly to Earth, where the havoc begins.
I groaned and went on sleeping, choosing to ignore my shouting alarm clock. I'd been delivering pizza for the past two hundred years (your job doesn't sound so bad now, does it?) and I was utterly, positively, extremely SICK. OF. IT. I had to wake up every morning at four a.m. and I didn't get home until nine p.m. And that was one of my lucky days.
My clock was squawking its head off, annoying me half to death. I sleepily reached out toward my side table and pummeled it until it was silent. Then I got up and slipped on my dancing pizza uniform.
I traipsed outside, unlocked the Crusader, and climbed in. Well, I thought as I blasted off at 10 million mph, at least I don't have to clean toilets like Raz. Raz was one of my three best mates, and she worked the night shift at McDonald's (yes, we have a Mickey D's here in Irk). Believe me, after chowing down on one of our infamous Bic Macs, you'll really need to use the restroom.
My other two friends, Star and Kal, are somewhat lucky. Okay, okay, Star is way more than somewhat lucky. She's a millionaire, so she doesn't have to work at all. Sometimes I really hate her.
Kal is also irritatingly rich, but she works anyway as if she needs the extra moneys. Her 'job' is pretty good though; she's a news reporter. I'm pretty sure she just likes being in the spotlight. And she always is - she wears such weird clothes.
Anyway, I'm probably boring you with all this chatter, so I'll continue with the story.
I reached Foodcourtia and parked the Crusader. Stuffing my keys into my pocket, I walked into Greasy's Pizza to begin my shift.
"Three milliseconds seconds late," my manager barked, "I expect better from you, Miss Ava. Would you like to get fired?"
"No, sir," I replied. I looked up at the TV. And plastered on the wide screen was the face of none other than Kal.
"It's raining SIRs today," she announced, dodging a falling robot, "literally!"
"No rubbernecking on the job! You have pizza to deliver! This goes to, um, 9376322 on Destruction Alley." My manager threw a grease-stained white box at me.
I caught it. "Yessir!"
I drove around in the Crusader for quite a while (hey, 9376322 is a lot of houses down the road), only half-paying attention to where I was going. I had really loud music blasting. My excuse? It was classical.
Not long before house 9376322, I noticed another ship wheeling straight toward me. I veered to the left, but unfortunately they veered to the right. The two ships connected in a deafening crack. I screamed and rushed out. My head was bleeding a bit, but I was more concerned about the other driver.
The other driver wasn't moving a muscle. I shrieked in fear when I flung open the door. I did not just commit a murder, I thought, checking for a pulse. I felt one, and breathed a sigh of relief. I fished around in their pockets for some kind of identification card. I found one, whipped it out, and studied it. Their name was "Rice" or something, but what really popped out to me was the address: "9376322 Destruction Alley." I gulped. I suddenly felt clammy and sick. I could've run off, back to Greasy's Pizza, and told my manager the house had been empty. I could've gone on home and ignored the whole thing. But instead I got out my phone and called the police. I explained the situation, and before long sirens wailed down the street.
Still feeling weak, I looked down at the floor of the ship. A piece of paper had fallen out along with the ID card. I picked it up. I knew it was rude to be nosy, but I wasn't very smart at the time.
"Win a vacation to Earth," it read, "in our singing contest!"
I can't sing, and I have no idea what Earth is, I thought, but my hand, with a mind of its own, stuffed the ad into my pocket.
My clock was squawking its head off, annoying me half to death. I sleepily reached out toward my side table and pummeled it until it was silent. Then I got up and slipped on my dancing pizza uniform.
I traipsed outside, unlocked the Crusader, and climbed in. Well, I thought as I blasted off at 10 million mph, at least I don't have to clean toilets like Raz. Raz was one of my three best mates, and she worked the night shift at McDonald's (yes, we have a Mickey D's here in Irk). Believe me, after chowing down on one of our infamous Bic Macs, you'll really need to use the restroom.
My other two friends, Star and Kal, are somewhat lucky. Okay, okay, Star is way more than somewhat lucky. She's a millionaire, so she doesn't have to work at all. Sometimes I really hate her.
Kal is also irritatingly rich, but she works anyway as if she needs the extra moneys. Her 'job' is pretty good though; she's a news reporter. I'm pretty sure she just likes being in the spotlight. And she always is - she wears such weird clothes.
Anyway, I'm probably boring you with all this chatter, so I'll continue with the story.
I reached Foodcourtia and parked the Crusader. Stuffing my keys into my pocket, I walked into Greasy's Pizza to begin my shift.
"Three milliseconds seconds late," my manager barked, "I expect better from you, Miss Ava. Would you like to get fired?"
"No, sir," I replied. I looked up at the TV. And plastered on the wide screen was the face of none other than Kal.
"It's raining SIRs today," she announced, dodging a falling robot, "literally!"
"No rubbernecking on the job! You have pizza to deliver! This goes to, um, 9376322 on Destruction Alley." My manager threw a grease-stained white box at me.
I caught it. "Yessir!"
I drove around in the Crusader for quite a while (hey, 9376322 is a lot of houses down the road), only half-paying attention to where I was going. I had really loud music blasting. My excuse? It was classical.
Not long before house 9376322, I noticed another ship wheeling straight toward me. I veered to the left, but unfortunately they veered to the right. The two ships connected in a deafening crack. I screamed and rushed out. My head was bleeding a bit, but I was more concerned about the other driver.
The other driver wasn't moving a muscle. I shrieked in fear when I flung open the door. I did not just commit a murder, I thought, checking for a pulse. I felt one, and breathed a sigh of relief. I fished around in their pockets for some kind of identification card. I found one, whipped it out, and studied it. Their name was "Rice" or something, but what really popped out to me was the address: "9376322 Destruction Alley." I gulped. I suddenly felt clammy and sick. I could've run off, back to Greasy's Pizza, and told my manager the house had been empty. I could've gone on home and ignored the whole thing. But instead I got out my phone and called the police. I explained the situation, and before long sirens wailed down the street.
Still feeling weak, I looked down at the floor of the ship. A piece of paper had fallen out along with the ID card. I picked it up. I knew it was rude to be nosy, but I wasn't very smart at the time.
"Win a vacation to Earth," it read, "in our singing contest!"
I can't sing, and I have no idea what Earth is, I thought, but my hand, with a mind of its own, stuffed the ad into my pocket.
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