Ralf meets Chot while peeping in Martha's window. Chot invites Ralf for a bite to eat and then things spin completely out of control. But that's what happens when a murderous alien fiend(Chot) befriends a somewhat less than intelligent human(Ralf). Words in italics are those of the author, a person who feels the need to add commentary to narrative rather than writing narrative that makes perfect sense without commentary from the author.
Ralf William Barker, age thirty-one, wine aficionado and mean spirited jerk fell down an elevator shaft and died, thus eliminating the possibility that this story would be about him. I’m not saying his story isn’t interesting. I mean, if you like snooty, arrogant people, then maybe his story is the one you want to read. If that’s the case, then stop reading. This story isn’t for you.
So, we need a protagonist. I find the most difficult character to think up is the protagonist. So much energy is spent rounding out the protagonist, making them believable and maybe even likable. Honestly, I think it’s really just a bunch of rubbish. Meet Ralf(not the Ralf from above). Ralf is a man. He has red hair, a body, wears flip-flops even in the winter, and rents a small apartment in a small town in a small state where nothing important ever happens. He has done nothing that anyone with any modicum of intelligence would call interesting or relevant. There, that’s my protagonist. Let’s have him do something.
Ralf picked his nose and ate it.
Pretty easy, right? So, anyway, this is Ralf’s story for now. Of course, we’ll have some other characters to mix things up a bit. Maybe Ralf will fall in love with Sheila. Sheila is a supporting character who won’t get much attention here, but will be really sexy and evil and will secretly have a crush on Brian Porter, a man who doesn’t know Sheila exists. Then there’s Bert, Ralf’s sorta best friend. Bert likes badminton because of the word shuttlecock and eats string cheese almost exclusively. He has a bum leg and says “wicked” a lot. He’s not terribly bright, but then neither is Ralf, so they are perfect for each other. All good so far. I guess we need some sort of thing to move the plot along. Maybe Ralf wins the lottery. Too boring. Maybe an alien visits Ralf as he is peeping into his neighbor’s bedroom window. Ralf does that a lot. Bert doesn’t know that yet, but he’ll find out and when he does he is going to try it for himself, but I won’t describe that at any point in the story because it is completely irrelevant. Sheila will probably find out, but will think it’s gross, although I won’t write about it because it really isn’t terribly important..
Aliens. Little green men? Blue, four eyed, four legged, omnivores? What’s so special about them? Are they telepaths? Maybe they communicate by farting. That would be a problem for Ralf since he has a rather limited sense of smell. I think the alien should just speak English. Makes writing this a lot easier. Can you imagine having to spend three hundred pages describing and translating farts? Painful. So the alien, a blue, bipedal carnivore with two strikingly beautiful eyes and a lipless mouth, can speak English, Yiddish, Russian, Portuguese, and Canadian. The alien is a murderous fiend, but takes a liking to Ralf. Ralf appreciates that, but doesn’t approve of the alien, Chot, killing people.
Aliens have spaceships, don’t they? I don’t know. Maybe this alien has some sort of device it uses to get around, something the size of a marble…actually, one of his eyes.
Ralf crept around the side of Martha Patterson’s home, stopping in front of her bedroom window. Keep in mind that Martha is a seventy-year-old widow who is wonderfully easy on the eyes, especially when naked. Martha always leaves a crack in her blinds so that Ralf can see in. Yes, she knows what he is up to and enjoys the attention even if that attention is being given by a thirty-one year old man of limited intellectual capabilities.
Martha undressed and lay naked on the bed as Ralf peered through the crack in the blinds. Martha did a thing or two that need not be mentioned. Ralf stared at the object of his affection until he was interrupted by a nearby voice.
“Whatcha doin’, pal?” said a man’s voice, maybe three feet away from Ralf. Ralf turned his head and saw a five-foot tall, pale(in this light Ralf can’t tell what color the alien is. I assure you the alien is a pretty pale blue), bipedal alien with faintly glowing orange eyes.
Ralf stammered out something along the lines of “Uh, what?”
“This some sort of mating ritual?” said the alien.
In this second, the alien, Chot Nar, considers eating Ralf. In the next second, he abandons that idea in favor of befriending Ralf.
“What? What are you?” said Ralf.
“Chot Nar. Call me Chot. I’m Canadian, and not one of those folks from the uppermost part of North America. So, what are you doing?” said Chot.
“I’m, um, not doing anything,” said Ralf.
“Looked like you were looking at a well endowed, naked woman,” said Chot.
“I, well, you see, I wasn’t…fine, you got me. What of it?”
“Nothin. You want to go grab a bite to eat?” said Chot.
Now going through Ralf’s little human mind right about now are thoughts of going out to grab a bite to eat with an alien. What would people think? Would the government swoop in and abduct the alien? What did aliens eat? What Ralf doesn’t know—well, Ralf doesn’t know a lot of things—but, what he doesn’t know is that Chot’s idea of a bite to eat is a nice, tasty human, usually eaten in some quiet, dark place.
“Uh, you sure you want to be seen?” said Ralf.
“Nobody can see me other than you,” said Chot. “Follow me.”
Chot, leads Ralf out onto the street, heading toward downtown, about a half mile away, an area full of unsavory characters, the types of victims that readers won’t my me killing in a story like this.
Chot is sensitive to readers’ wishes and for the duration of this story will only kill people who really have it coming. Well, maybe. Me? I think everyone should be given a chance to live a long fruitful life, even if that life is absolutely miserable and meaningless.
So, should Chot kill a serial killer or a mass murderer? Tough choice. You know, there are a couple of young boys roaming the streets looking for trouble right about now. They would make nice victims. Let’s say they’re thirteen years old and are looking to break into a convenience store to steal beer. Let’s say they manage to get into the convenience store and Chot sees them and leads Ralf into the convenience store where Ralf pounces on the two young boys and kills them. That could work. But, what Chot doesn’t know is that the owner of the convenience store is sleeping in the back of the store because his wife threw him out of the house(he had been cheating on her, the bastard.) So, the owner will come out with a shotgun, will see the dead boys and Ralf standing there with a look of horror on his face. Of course, Chot is completely invisible, so the owner doesn’t see Chot pouncing on him. Yes, the convenience store’s owner gets killed too. So much for not killing innocent victims.
Chot finished eating and looked at Ralf. “You want some?” he said.
“You killed those people,” was all Ralf could get out.
“Hey, a guy’s got to eat. You should try it. Humans taste great.”
“I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll be arrested,” said Ralf.
“Relax, buddy. Watch this,” said Chot.
Chot pointed at the bodies one at a time. Each of the bodies disintegrated, leaving only a thin layer of dust on the floor.
“We have to get out of here,” said Ralf, but what Ralf meant was that he had to get out of there and as far away from Chot as possible. Ralf wanted his teddy bear, Sam, a cup of cocoa and to watch his favorite show, The Real Housewives of Orange County.
“Well, we shouldn’t go out the front,” said Chot. “Cops.”
“Follow me,” said Chot. Chot went to the back of the convenience store, through a door into a storage room and exited the building through the back door. Ralf raced after him.
Okay, so the cops don’t catch them. I don’t feel like writing about Ralf getting arrested for breaking and entering and getting him out of jail and all that. Of course, Chot could have killed the cops and disintegrated them and he and Ralf could have stolen the police cruiser and raised hell in the neighborhood, but this isn’t that type of story. Suffices to say, Ralf and Chot go back to Ralf’s house to relax. I should note Ralf fears for his life right now. He thinks Chot is going to eat him. Don’t worry. Chot likes Ralf. Like Ralf, Chot is a peeping Tom. So, he feels a connection with Ralf that he doesn’t feel with other humans. Later in the story, Ralf and Chot might go peeping together, but that will be on another planet in a galaxy far far away.
“You can’t go around killing people like that,” said Ralf.
“I was hungry. Anyway, there are billions of people. It’s not like I’m going to make a dent in the population,” said Chot, sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels with the remote.
“They have families, people who love them,” said Ralf.
“Look, if it makes you feel any better, they were going to die anyway,” said Chot.
“The boys were going to get killed by the guy in the convenience store and the guy in the convenience store was going to kill himself. I made the whole process a lot less painful for them,” said Chot.
“You’re lying,” said Ralf.
“A Canadian never lies. It’s a genetic thing,” said Chot.
“Are you going to eat me?”
“No. Well, if you want me to I will, but I’d rather get to know you,” said Chot.
Chot glanced down at the coffee table and saw a lottery ticket. He picked it up and examined it. “Looks like you have a winner,” said Chot.
So, maybe Ralf wins the lottery. I didn’t say I wouldn’t make that happen. I just said it was too boring. Anyway, Ralf wins two hundred million dollars and his life changes, but he swears he won’t change and that all of his friends, what few he has, will remain his friends and he will buy a nice house in Montana. However, Chot doesn’t like the Montana idea so much because there are far fewer people to eat, so there is a bit of a struggle. Ultimately, Chot wins and the two of them move to a nice house on Mulholland Drive in beautiful Los Angeles. Of course, Ralf leaves Bert and Sheila behind, never thinking of them again. So much for them.