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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
  • that gigantic dog-sign?" I nodded. It was an awful sign. "When you get there you'll know what to do" And with those parting words, she left me with the keys to the classic car
  • . 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.

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