Blerp the Alien

Do you like aliens and government conspiracies? Then have I got the short story for you:

            Blerp knew he was in trouble as soon as he entered the underground base. Blerp was not his real name, but the incompetent humans could not pronounce his real one. Not that he blamed them. Their brains could not comprehend his language.

            1947 was the Earth year his small fleet crashed into the planet. It was not his mission to make contact. Observe. Listen. Take note. Those were his tasks. But then that damn asteroid shower hit out of nowhere.

            Out of the four ships in his small patrol, only one was captured. Blerp could have easily used his technology to get it back, but authorization had not been granted. Besides, it was probably too late. The ships were most likely already taking root in the soil. Instead, he did what any other sensible creature would do. He went to the politicians.

            But his grey exterior and yellow glow screamed suspicion.

            “Alien!”

            “Get him!”

            Twenty soldiers surrounded him.

            “I come in peace. Take me to your leader.”

            The big one in front waved his gun and snorted. “Yeah, right.”

            Blerp grunted. But in the end, his many escorts took him to an isolated base in the desert.

            Next came hours of waiting while soldiers stared and poked until he was finally taken to some place of importance. He was then introduced to two men. Both were older with appalling silver hair. One wore glasses and had his hair combed to one side. Everyone called him Mr. President. The other, called Sir, was obviously the ass kisser.

            Mr. President shook his head. “Aliens. This is bad.”

            “Indeed. Not good.”

            “Smells fishy.”

            “Yes, fishy.”

            This went on for a while.

            “Four of my ships crashed,” Blerp said at last.

            “Four? We only recovered one. It’s very … unusual.”

            “Very unusual.”

            “Compared to your metals, I can see how our ships might seem strange.”

            In simple terms, Blerp’s ships were not merely flying devices. They were living organisms. The problem with crash landings was that ships went into survival mode and buried themselves into the land.

            “They will eventually grow,” Blerp explained. “Like a … tree. I suspect it is already happening.”

            “Grow?”

            “What kind of aircraft grows like trees?”

            “It is what you might call recycling.”

            “Well, we cannot have that.”

            “No, indeed.”

            Mr. President considered. “What will it look like?”

            “That depends.” Blerp was brought some drawing supplies. “That is a guess, of course. It can be …” He quickly did Earth calculations. “… 185 to 580 meters high. I know not Earth soil, but growth could last years.”

“Strange. It looks like some sort of modern structure. Like a space . . .”

“Needle!” Sir finished.

“Yes, a space needle. I like that. Write that down.”

“Removal will be difficult,” Blerp said.

“We cannot draw attention to this.”

“No, we can’t.”

“The people will disapprove. I can see headlines now.”

“Alien invasion.”

“I propose a cover up.”

Sir nodded. “Cover it up.”

Mr. President scratched his chin. “Where did your ships crash?”

“Out of four, you have one, another is in the northwestern, one is in a place called Toronto, and the last in, I think, Germany.”

“Isn’t the Pacific Northwest due for a world fair?”

“Not for another fifteen years, Mr. President.”

“Perfect. A Space Needle will be a new attraction.”

“Attraction, Mr. President?”

“Yes, I can see it now. With an elevator that goes up to an observation deck and a restaurant that views the city. That’s solved. Now, let’s get in touch with Canada and Germany." 

And that's why, to this very day, alien spaceships are untraceable.

(written by me, Nicole Hopkins)

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What happened in 1947? The supposed Roswell UFO crash/cover up. Which was the basis of this show from 1999. Ah, Roswell.