We flushed the remnants of the alien spacecraft

We flushed the remnants of the alien spacecraft down the toilette.

"That can't be good for the sewage system," Craig remarked, but I ignored him. I knew it had to be done. After all, the aliens had made their intentions clear, no matter that they

spoke through their eye lashes which twinkled like fiber optics, I knew that they were going to party, party "all night long." I learned this after I had said, "Hello" to the alien

fembot, who offered me a wink and a drink. "You here to party with us too?" she asked. "No matta what?" I nodded, mesmorized by her glittering eyelashes and laserbeam stare.

She moved me as only a fembot could, throwing me over her tin shoulder and, making tiny clanks, carrying my limp yet warm body into the car park. "You're in over your head Mr, she

pouted. "If I were you, I would leave now before things get even more heated". She placed me on the bonnet of a 1950s old mobile, and with her long chrome finger pointed east, "see

. I drove the '67 Mustang to the edge of town. I spotted the weathered billboard with the crudely painted Mastiff. "Big Dawg's Flea Market Next Right." I had to be there early.

My prize jumping flea Taavi had to weigh in before the 'Big Dawg Flea Olympics'. He'd put on weight since living on Hercules rump. Even though he wasn't a sandflea the triple-jump

was his best event. I positioned his weight scale in front of the window. I figured he'd enjoy that. Taavi jumped on the scale. 11 milligrams. Taavi was going to the Olympics.