El Moore phone home…

Close Encounters

“Tell me more about this …Detroit…”

Deputy Supreme Commander and Captain Vixra 5!, seated in the command navigation module next to Vixra 5?, who had asked the question, waved his five arms back and forth in the commonly understood demonstration of joy and exultation. His three sets of eyes, located at the ends of long branch-like stalks that extended from what appeared to be a forehead glowed a comforting green, then purple.

“Seriously?” asked Vixra5?, a look commonly recognized as perplexed amongst the Vixren muddling his otherwise smooth face. That is, the face located on the front of his third head, most commonly used for intra-species communication. The other faces appeared non-committal and somewhat bored.

Vixra5! began waving his arms about even more furiously, this time slapping his sixth arm on the table next to him/her (the Vixren were bisexual to the fullest extent) for emphasis.

“I could not possibly be more serious! I have studied these people for a generation, and I find them supremely fascinating and worthy of more engagement. You know, of course, that The One Known as Prince (blessed be his memory) owed much  of the start of his magnanimous career to this city. Do you not?”

Vixra5? began suddenly waving his arms about his head even more furiously than his co-captain, his eyes flashing back and forth between purple and red.

“I did NOT! I did NOT! Where is this Detroit Vixra5! We must land there immediately and make friends! But first we must find appropriate lodging.”

The two of them broke into a quick and spontaneous Vixren rendition of Raspberry Beret.

“Already done Supreme Commander! Now if you will look here on this map…”

************************

Jason Peet looked somewhat confused, which was not a normal look for Jason Peet. He was standing in the lobby of the El Moore, his cell phone to his ear, apparently trying to make sense of what he was hearing on the other end of the line. Two of the residents stood nearby, made curious and somewhat nervous by his increasingly agitated reaction and conversation.

“I’m sorry but I don’t think I can help you, and I really do think you have the wrong…I mean…how did  you get my number anyway?”

“….”

“Whoa, wait a minute…what?  Look, it’s late, it’s dark outside, and I have to be…

“….”

Jason closed his eyes, lowered his head, then exhaled a tired whistle of air and sighed.

“Look, if I do this means you’ll leave me alone, right? For good?”

“….”

“OK. Fine. I’m going outside right now.”

Jason slid his phone into his pocket, then tried to offer a relaxed smile to the two guests who had been standing nearby, listening in with concern.

“What is it, Jason? Not to pry, but…I mean…sounded kind of serious…”

Jason shook his head.

“Nothing to worry about. You guys stay here while I go outside, OK? I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Maybe one of us should.”

“Stay inside.”

“OK. Geez.”

Jason stepped out into the parking lot, feeling a bit foolish for even agreeing to do this. After all, whoever it was had to be a bit deranged, which wasn’t that person’s fault for sure. Probably a nice enough person in other ways, but still.

Then Jason took a deep breath and looked upward into what he fully expected to be a clear and open Detroit sky. Except…

“Oh. My. God. It’s…huge…”

His phone rang again. Slowly he reached into his pocket and withdrew it, then placed it next to his ear.

“…”

“Oh yes. I see it. I mean…yes. I see it. It’s bigger than the entire block so how could I not…”

“….”

“Sure. We’ve got room. Just two…?

About Keith Owens

Keith Owens is a freelance writer, columnist, blogger and musician whose most recent work has been featured in Model D Detroit, BLAC Detroit, and the national political affairs blog PoliticusUSA. He has also published three novels through Detroit Ink Publishing (www.detroitinkpublishing.com), the eBook publishing company he co-founded with his wife, Pamela Hilliard Owens. Keith and Pam live in a 100-year-old home in the Historic Boston-Edison District a few miles north of the El Moore.

El Moore