Earth Customs

(I missed all of you last week.  It was very busy with my family here from Germany, and I was just worn out. Just had no energy to write about that prosthetic limb, but I’m sure it would have made a good Zing and Zang story.  I think I’m back on track now 🙂  )

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

“Oh NO!  This is too horrible! How can these earth people treat each other in such a terrible  way!  I want to go home!”  Zing trembled with fear and horror as he gazed at the cage.

Zang was a bit more brave. “Zinnia, what is this about?  What are those grinning heads hanging from the branch?”

Zinnia spoke softly. “This is Halloween. That is not a real person, but only a dummy. Soon, small children will go around collecting treats from their neighbors. It is called Halloween. Celebrating their dead.  Strange, indeed.Grotesque and bizarre.”

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What’s Fun?

disc-golf-basket

Zing, Zang, and Zinnia (oh, yes–Peony had told them her Zekonian name) got settled into the ramshackle old house. Assuming the form of human children, they explored outdoors.

“It’s pleasant,” commented Zing. “I like grass. But what is that  piece of equipment with the chains?”

“Zing, you’re too curious!”  Zang was cranky.

“It’s a game humans play,” said Zinnia. “See those plastic discs in the basket? They toss the discs into the chains and get a score when the discs drop into the basket.”

“But why?” asked Zing.

“Just for fun, Zing. It’s called Frisbee.”

“Fun?”  Zang grumped. “What’s that?”

 

Getting to Know You

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“Baskets?”

“Hats?”

“Neither,”said Peony. “Earth people like to make odd designs and use them for decorations”

“How do you KNOW this?” demanded Zing. Who ARE you?”  His antennae quivered with both fear and indignation.

“I am Peony.  I am from your planet.  I have been looking after you, protecting you. You are both very innocent.  Too trusting.”

“What is our planet’s name?  Who is our Leader?” asked Zang, doubting.

“Zekon, of course.  And our Leader is Zedion the Great.”

“But your name—it starts with that “Puh” sound. Not a Zekonian name.”

“It’s for undercover work, Silly!”

A Cold Assignment

photoprompt@DaleRogerson

Zing, I want to go back to where the water was warm and the sun was hot,” muttered Zang.  “This is unbearable.  What a strange place is this Earth!”

Zing shivered, too.  His antennae quivered from his shaking. But their assignment had been clear. They must analyze “snow” to see if it could be weaponized and used against them.

“Zang, do you remember the little girl who watched us from her window?  I wonder what she’s doing now.”

“Enjoying the warmth of the sun, of course. Splashing like a fish in the warm water. Not freezing, like us.”

Be Careful!

PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

The stacks of warm hats looked like  children  facing the window, aching to get outdoors and play until their little noses froze and they had to come back inside for hot chocolate with marshmallows.

However, they were more sinister by far than they appeared.  Innocent shoppers had no clue that what they were seeing had been devised by a government think tank. The yarns were embedded with brain scanners that recorded every thought and sent it back to the Big Brother Computer deep in the bowels of the earth.

Make your own hats, people.  It’s safer.

Fibber McGee’s Closet

closet

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Judy and Uncle Bill  opened the door to  Aunt Reenie’s storage closet. They both stood speechless, taking in the  years of accumulated  miscellany.

“It’s Fibber McGee’s closet!” said Uncle Bill.

“Who?  What?” asked Judy.

“It’s an old radio program. Look it up.  Well, let’s get it done.”

Aunt Reenie was Uncle Bill’s aunt, nearly 100 years old when she decided to die.

“What useless junk!”  Judy  declared.

“Maybe. But Aunt Reenie was thankful for everything she had. There are some good stories in this closet.”

“Really?  Like what?”  The time flew as they cleared it out.

 

 

 

I’m Not Sure

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Ann Hall

“Mother, what are these?” Ann asked.

“I’m not sure, Dear. We could ask someone.”

“Well, I guess they could be candle holders.  Look at this orange one. What would you put in that shell thing on top?”  Ann reached up to trace her finger over the curve, fascinated by the texture, when the top piece suddenly came loose.   Ann  captured it before it fell.

Mother grasped the rocking pillar, gasping as she looked into the hollow piece.

A white-faced curator arrived, taking the pillar. “What are you doing? Oh, my!  What have you done!”