Four writers for the price of one blog
Tentacle & the Alien Abduction
Another case just like the last : five incidents in five weeks.
The glow of the desk lamp casts a pale green light on the peeling paint of the station walls. A fluorescent light sputters above them.
“Alright,” says Joe. “Let’s start over.”
“Yes, Sir, Officer.” The young woman answers.
“And I’m sorry but I gotta’ ask, Hon,” Joe shifts. The old chair creaks under his lanky weight. “Were you wearin’ anything provocative?”
“No Sir!” The blonde earnestly shakes her head. “Ain’t never. I was just walkin’ home from cheerleader practice.”
“So,” Frank chimes in. “You were in your cheerleading outfit?”
Frank glances at him. “What? She was in a cheerleading outfit. Perfectly normal.”
Joe glances at Frank, then rubs his forehead. “All right, Hon,” Joe continues, “let’s go over this again. You left practice and instead of walkin’ straight home you decided to take a shortcut back of George Talbot’s field?”
“And David Carnelli was the last one to see you?” Joe glances up at the tall boy – the school’s forward tackle.
“That’s right, Sir,” the girl answers. “Just David, if you don’t include Ryan, Jud, and Taggart.”
Joe rubs his temples again. He turns to the boy, wearing his football team’s orange and green jersey. The boy’s hands fidget in his jean pockets. “And the last you saw her was in the field?”
“Sir,” the boy answers. “Yes, Sir.”
“Because you had to buy warm milk for your grandmother?”
“And how’s Grandma, Dave?” Frank interjects.
“She’s in fine shape, Mr. Parcell.”
Frank smiles and leaned back with his hands clasped behind his head. “You’re an upstandin’ boy, David.”
“Frank!” Joe snaps.
“I’m just bein’ neighborly, Joe.”
Joe sighs and sorts through his notes. “Mrs. Carnelli says she didn’t see you til… 8:30 P.M. That was an hour after the store closed…”
“I saw you in Church last Sunday,” Frank interrupts. “You like the sermon?”
“Sir. Yes, Sir,” the boy answers.
“Can I ask the boy a question?”
“What do you wanna’ ask him, Joe? He’s a good boy. He goes to church and buys his grandmother milk. What’s more to know? He’s a good, Christian boy.”
“So,” Joe turns back to the boy, “Mrs. Carnelli says you also bought a 32-pack of Coors Lite.”
“That was for Church, Sir.”
“There, you see?” says Frank.
Joe turned back to the girl. “Alright hon, what happened when you went into the field?”
“I saw the light!” the girl chirps.
“It was a flyin’ saucer hoverin’ right over my head. It was big as a house, officer, and all lit up like a Christmas tree.”
“No kiddin’. Big as a house? Like a house done up for Christmas?”
“Then… well… this door opened in the middle and that’s when I saw the light.”
“You saw the light?”
“I couldn’t move, you know?” The girl leaned forward. “Seein’ it, I just froze. That light washed over me like a realization –you know?– like what happened to the Saints. I fell to my knees just like that. It was like I was called.”
“That door, you say, didn’t look like a garage door, did it?”
“Oh no, Sir. I mean, I don’t know anything ’bout flyin’ saucers, so maybe that’s where the little ships go into the mother ship, but all I know is I saw the light.”
“Then the light lifted you?”
“Like a leaf on wind, Sir. I was carried straight to the mother ship.”
“Yes Sir. I was lifted right off the ground?”
“I just sort of felt myself lifted right off the ground.”
“I don’t know, Sir. You see, I was dazed and all.”
The girl glances as though she’ll be overheard. “The first thing happened is it put somethin’ in my mouth.”
“The alien, sir, the monster.”
“Can you describe it?”
“Oh, Sir, it was like an Octopus ‘cept it wasn’t.”
“Kind of like a squid ‘cept it was like an Octopus too and sort of hovering?”
“Just floatin’ like it was underwater ‘cept it wasn’t. Oh Sir, it was horrible. It was orange and green and–”
“Orange and green?”
“Yes Sir, orange and green.”
“You don’t say.”
“No Sir, I wouldn’t forget that. It’s eyes–”
“That squid wasn’t wearin’ a jersey, was it?” Joe glances at the boy.
“Oh no, Sir. It wasn’t wearin’ a jersey. It’s skin was green and its eyes were orange. And, Sir, all those little suctiony things on its tentacles were orange and –”
“Tentacles? How many tentacles?”
“Eight, sir. I remember that clear as a bell. Eight.”
“And you said David was the only boy with you?”
“That’s right, sir, just David if we’re not countin’ Ryan, Jud, and Taggart.”
“Tentacles, sir. Those weren’t arms and it was wearin’ a helmet.”
“Like a football helmet?”
“Oh no, Sir. Nothing like that. More like a space helmet but I couldn’t see too well, what with my mouth bein’ all full of tentacles.”
“In your mouth?”
“It was smooth,” she says. “And filled my mouth so I couldn’t talk.”
“Did you try to talk?” Frank interrupts.
“Yes, Sir,” the girl answers. “I did.”
“You wanted to tell them to stop, didn’t you, sugar.”
“Frank!” Joe glares at him.
“Yes, Sir,” answers the girl, “but I couldn’t speak or nothing. That long smooth…” The girl blushed, bit her lip, and whispered, “I went deep in my throat and I almost choked on it.”
“You mean it was trying to choke you?” Frank asks.
“Oh no, I mean, it just kept squirting this gooey, gluey white stuff in my mouth. I never tasted anything like it.”
Joe shifts uncomfortably. “White stuff?.”
“It started pumpin’ it in my belly and there was nothing I could do for it but swallow, like it was some kinda’ aphrodisiac or something. It just kept pumpin’ goo straight down my throat til I was feeling all warm and hot inside and couldn’t think straight, and my eyes were all rollin’ and I felt all stretchy, like I wanted to stretch and open all up. You know what I mean? It’s like when you wake up first thing in the morning and all you want to do is curl your little fists up against your cheeks, stand right up on your tippy-toes, and raise your arms right up and arch your back until your tail bone goes pop. That’s such a good feelin’. Your boobs get all tight, your tummy gets all flat and stretchy, and your belly button gets all long and stretched straight up and down. Don’t ya’ll stretch like that in the morning?”
“You okay, Joe?” Frank asks.
“My wife does Yoga,” says Frank to the girl. “She has her own private sessions at the Dikram– ”
“–Bikram,” Joe corrects.
“–Bikram, that’s right, Bikram Yoga Studio with a fine young fellow –hair so long you’d almost think he was a girl– named Hercules.”
“She ain’t talkin’ about Yoga, Frank.”
“Well, it sure sounded like what my wife–”
“Frank!” Joe glares.
“Alright then. Just sayin’. I mean, don’t let me interrupt. Just tryin’ to put her at ease.”
“So,” says Joe turning back to the girl, “this –stuff– was it alcoholic?”
“Well it did have this beer-like after-taste.”
“Like Coors Lite, maybe?”
“Yeah and kinda’ salty too and soon as one tentacle was done another went wriggling in my mouth until I was all full of that goop.”
“It just kept pumpin’, Sir. ” She traces her finger’s tip between her breasts, “Some of it spilled and ruined my outfit.”
“That’s right, Sir. It never once took off my cheerleading outfit. All those tentacles just worked around and under it.”
“Then what?” Joe asks.
“Well, when I was good and pumped full, when I was all soft and gooey inside, the alien’s tentacles held me by my ankles so I couldn’t close my legs and held my wrists together, over my head, so I was all stretched and couldn’t move.”
“They held you on the ground?”
“No Sir, the tentacles held me right up in the air like I was light as a feather.”
“And they forced your legs apart?”
“Bent my knees until my heels were right up against my bottom, Sir. I couldn’t so much as twitch. My stomach was stretched tight as a drum. Then all its tentacles started touchin’ my all over – feathery light, little touches. They were under my cheerleading outfit and had suction cups all along one side. They made me do things. Those little suction thingies started suctioning on my – ” She wrinkles her nose. “– on my nipples. They made me do funny things.”
“They made you do things?”
“Things I’d never done before?”
“Uh – like what?”
“Yeah, you know, strange noises I’d never made before.”
“They hurt you?” Joe keeps writing.
“Oh no, sir, not those kinds of noises. And they made me move like I’ve never moved before. You know, all twisty, breathing funny and moving my hips all strange.”
“You didn’t tell them to stop?”
“I kept wantin’ to ask the tentacles: Why? Why are you doin’ this to me? But those little suction thingies on my boob felt like they were suckin’ the juice right out of me and making my eyes go all funny.” The girl blushes again. “And then there was, you know, another tentacle down there.”
“Down there?” Joe asks.
“You know,” the girl squirms. “Between my legs. One of the tentacles pulled aside the crotch of my cheerleading skort and the tip of another one, just the tip, like a little tickle at first, started to go up inside me –” The girl blushed furiously and bit her lip. “It made me do things. That tentacle just kept going up and in me and in me like there was no end to how deep in me it could go; and the deeper it went, the bigger-round the tentacle got. Another one – another – you know – went in my intestines. They both kept going deeper and deeper and – and it made me do things. I couldn’t help it. I started twistin’, movin’ my hips up and down, gruntin’ and pantin’ like if you’d heard me you would’a thought I was dying but it wasn’t like that at all. I started feelin’ funny all over and the more I was moving and twisting on those things inside me, in my mouth, my bottom and up inside my belly, the funnier I was feelin’ until all at once I couldn’t have stopped the feelings if the earth itself had stopped. All I remember is it felt like every muscle in my body was going off like a bomb – like a bomb I couldn’t stop and didn’t want to – and I was twistin’ and turnin’ and every time that bomb’d go off I’d arch and squeeze everything inside me until I was makin’ all those tentacles squirt and squirt goo straight inside me – like I was squeezin’ the goo right out of them. They didn’t stop until my insides were all warm and gooey. And it was like they made me do it. I just didn’t know anything could make me do that!”
“Anything else,” asks Joe.
“I think it was tryin’ to breed me.”
“Are you – ?”
“Am I what, sir?”
“Oh, yes sir,” the girl blushes. “That alien bred me. There’s no denying that. I still feel all gooey inside.”
Joe closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How did you get away?”
“I woke up in the field and the tentacle monster was gone,” answered the girl, “and all those juices were leakin’ out of me – out of every part of me – into the crotch of my panties, into the grass, down my legs, into my socks and shoes–”
“And you’re sure your pregnant?”
“Two weeks now.”
“Thanks,” Joe sighs.
“Nope, you can go home and you too Dave. Why don’t you two go home together.”
Frank stands and leans over the table. “Sweetheart, we’re gonna’ get to the bottom of this, so help me God. Bless you, child. God bless. You’re a brave girl.”
Joe stands and Frank follows.
They walk into the long hallway with its yellowed linoleum floor. Joe thorws his notes into the trashcan.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Frank steps in front of him. “What in the name of sweet Jesus are you doing?”
“You didn’t actually believe all that?”
“Joe, those are God-fearing kids out there.”
“Frank!” Joe gazes at the ceiling. “She’s eighteen years old!”
“She’s just a child in God’s eyes.”
“Frank!” Joe walks in a short circle and bangs his forehead with the palm of his hand. “You think that maybe this abstinence program isn’t working? This is the fifth girl–”
“That’s knocked up!”
“Joe!” Frank shakes his head. “I… am… shocked…”
“I don’t EVER want to hear talk like that. That’s crazy talk. You understand, Joe? Crazy talk. This is a Christian, god-fearin’ country and you, Frank, YOU, of all people, are duty bound to honor and PROTECT.”
“God as my witness, Joe,” Frank grits his teeth and grinds his fist into the palm of his hand. “The day I get that orange and green cock-sucker in the sites of my Kimber 8400 Tactical. Joe, there’s gonna’ be hell to pay. I just want to know why? Why do they always come after our women? Why? They travel half way across the universe for what, Joe? For our women?”
“Weren’t you and your partner anally probed?”
“That’s right,” Frank answers. “That’s right. Hell is gonna’ be paid.”
“Your partner quit, right.”
“Can’t talk about it, Joe. Just can’t.”
November 20 2009