Column: You Don’t Say: I Think My Grandson Is an Alien

I think my grandson is an alien. I found this out quite by accident during his recent three-week summer visit to my home here in the ‘Burg. Don’t get me wrong, we’re not talking all “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” or anything like that, but the kid is kind of weird.

He looks just like your average, gawky 14 year-old, all loose jointed and gangly; with a bushy head of auburn hair and the requisite facial blemishes. Like many others his age, he has a tendency to sag his pants despite my having explained to him the exact nature of the social message this is intended to convey. I don’t believe the aliens have fine-tuned their translation software yet because he seems not to understand – and yes, I did enunciate clearly and speak slowly. So go figure.

The first clue I had was his apparent inability to look me in the eye. I googled this and found an absolute treasure trove of You Tube videos on the subject — something about alien reptilian people, and them not wanting you to accidentally see their lizard-like little eyes. He never dropped his guard and I never did see them — that with the hair and all, so the jury’s still out on this one.

His walk was another tell. It was like he was used to living in outer space and the Earth’s gravitational pull was elongating his arms to below his knees, which would then swing in this odd, disjointed manner as he literally loped wherever he was going. Think of the classic Don Martin cartoons of big-footed and geeky people in “Mad” magazine.

Then there was this thing with his hands. They were just stuck there, these pale, thin, long-fingered things which seemed to have been something of an afterthought in the alien genetic engineering program. They sort of looked like regular human hands, albeit kind of pale like I said before; almost waxy; the fingers oddly jointed and strangely curled back instead of under like my own hands. And they had no apparent ability, other than the most basic: to facilitate the use of small hand tools or cutlery. They just wouldn’t work right and seemed like extremely clumsy appendages when tasked with any activity or chore which did not involve a keyboard and a screen. Come to think of it, excessive pounding of keys may explain the odd, bent back fingers.

Besides punching keys, the only other activity the hands seemed quite adept at was pushing food into the voracious maw of this alien creature.

Copious amounts of comestibles were consumed on a rigid schedule beginning when he awoke and continuing throughout the day and evening until he finally passed out. When food supplies ran low, I was overcome with a very bad feeling, and locked my bedroom door at night in case of a midnight snack attack.

I believe this particular alien species, while advanced enough to accomplish the use of computers, space travel and shape shifting, is possessed of a very rudimentary physiology, the gastro-intestinal system of which is much like our common worm here on earth. From front to back it’s a straight shot, if you get my drift. These aliens seem to require non-stop feeding and quick access to toilet facilities at all times.

I caught the alien communicating with others of his kind on devices which looked very similar to our laptop computers and smartphones. This usually took place in the middle of the night when I thought he had gone to bed. I overheard some of the strange alien speech, but didn’t recognize any words, although he was able to approximate human speech when pressed.

I got the feeling these guys had been orbiting Earth for a while and monitoring our media for some time. This alien spoke only in sound bites and betrayed his true alien nature by defaulting to pre-programmed and looped synth-speech, which allows them to continue to speak while actually mentally and verbally disengaging from further meaningful discourse. Apparently, this was designed as a type of hypnotic shield, which renders adult humans either comatose or so frustrated they can no longer think straight or speak. This is a very powerful weapon, and one the aliens use quite often and to great advantage when they detect a chink in their shape shifting and cloaking armor.

I think I’m going to keep my eyes on this particular alien.

He may be augmenting the poor alien translation software with his own curious intellect, and adding to his store of information about Earth and human beings. I’ve decided I’ll try my best to help him see the value of all humans, and human life here on Earth in the hope he decides to do something meaningful to help preserve it and not to aid some invasion plot by alien hordes. Before he left, he did say next year he’s bringing his brother. It looks like this may be it for planet Earth as I know it.

Van Elburg has been a local resident for more than 30 years. He is semi-retired from a multi-faceted business career and currently teaches classes on blues music for the Christoper Wren Association. He is a musician, a writer, on-air personality and programming director for mobile radio station, TheBluesAlley.com.

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