Page 27 - Extraterrestrials, Foreign and Domestic
P. 27

The Hermits

        had  a  hard  time  getting  any  useful  work  out  of  me,  and  my
        attention wandered one time too many.”
          “Don’t you ever get bored?”
          “Not if I can help it. What about you?”
          “Me?  Oh,  maybe  a  little  now  and  then.  But  not  as  much  as
        when I was working.”
          Al  was  reminded  of  the  future  and  its  uncertainties.  If  Ricky
        died first, then Al would bury him before dawn in the back yard,
        air out the upstairs rooms, and be no worse off than before the
        alien  arrived.  On  the  other  hand,  if  Al  predeceased  Ricky,  the
        situation could become sticky. The state would seize the property
        and sell it at auction, after burying Al in a cemetery and airing out
        the downstairs rooms. The alien certainly could not remain in the
        house during those proceedings!
          “Listen, Ricky: what would you do if I suddenly, ah, died?”
          There was no pause before the answer floated down the stairs.
        “Either leave or find a way to stay here. You have no heirs, and
        there’s nobody else I trust on this planet. We were very lucky to
        find  each  other, Al.  I will  devote  some  time  to considering this
        eventuality, although it appears there is very little preparation I can
        do for it. In the meantime, try to eat fewer potato chips.”
          Al felt better after hearing Ricky’s remarks on the subject. His
        responsibility  definitely  terminated  with  his  own  life;  Al  hated
        dangling expectations, never wanted any sort of dog or cat he’d
        have to worry about endlessly. Ricky was, above all, reasonable. Al
        liked that. He sat down at his kitchen table, turned on the radio,
        and  opened  a  magazine.  Retirement  had  become  more  like  a
        vacation  since  Ricky  had  moved  in.  Money  no  longer  was  a
        problem; it was as simple as that.
          He was suddenly startled by a light tapping on the screen door.
        The  old  man’s  gaze  jerked  from  Sports  Illustrated  to  the  figure
        silhouetted on the porch.
          “Eh?  Who’s there?”
          “Uh, Mr. Osmoser, it’s me, Wilson from next-door.”
          Al  stood  up  too  fast.  His  head  spun.  “Who?  What  do  you
        want?”
          “Uh, Mr. Osmoser, Lorraine told me to give this to you.”



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