While this was not my first meal aboard the mighty spacecraft that is the jewel of the Glovorkian Fleet, I got the sense that the last second invitation meant that my Alien friends had something important they wanted to discuss.
These Deep Thoughts were confirmed when, upon exiting the shuttle craft, I was immediately ushered into the Officers’ Dining Room, and discovered that I was the only person in a space that can easily fit two hundred beings.
The scent of bacon was in the air, though, so my stomach’s needs took priority over my curiosity for the moment.
When the server appeared with an ice cold Snapple, I thanked him and immediately ordered chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a mound of bacon.
Even though the Glovorkians are from a galaxy far, far away, they have perfected the art of the All-American breakfast. If I hadn’t been staring down at Earth through the window next to my table, I would’ve sworn I was in some fancy New York restaurant.
As I enjoyed my food in silence, the Mothership hurtled through space until it was orbiting Saturn. It was the perfect view, and our arrival at the ringed planet also meant I would finally get some answers as to why I had been invited to brunch.
“I hope you find your pancakes to be most delicious. The bacon smells delightful!” Zyg, the Glovorkians’ Chief Intelligence Officer, said when he appeared at my table.
The Glovorkians are tall, thin, large headed Aliens with enormous eyes, but they move in stealth mode. I never hear them coming.
Even though Zyg was dressed in casual Glovorkian garb, I knew he was on official business. I invited him to join me, and he sat down across from me with a forced smile on an otherwise pained face.
“I think we have a problem, Austin,” the Alien Spymaster told me grimly. “The Supreme Leader is quite concerned about this Donald Trump character.”
“There is great concern that if this Trump is elected the next American President, he will no longer grant our people asylum in Maine,” Zyg explained. “Your President Obama has been very welcoming, but based on what Mr. Trump has said about deporting Mexicans and other illegal human aliens, we fear how he would react to learn that there are hundreds of thousands of Intergalactic Aliens living in and above Maine.”
Zyg definitely had a point. The Glovorkians kept a very low profile in Maine. Those who chose to live on planet and interact with other Mainers disguised their appearance when people from away were in the vicinity.
The Mothership and the other ships in the Glovorkian Fleet, where most of the Aliens resided, were hidden from view by elaborate cloaking devices. It was Alien technology that would never be penetrated by any Earthly technology.
If you didn’t live in Maine, and you didn’t have the need to know, you most likely had no idea that visitors from another galaxy lived here (unless you read my blog!).
“Should he win the election, he would have to be told of our existence, correct?” Zyg queried with deep concern in his voice.
I picked up a piece of perfectly cooked bacon and munched on it as I formed Deep Thoughts on how to answer that question.
“What if President Trump decides to banish us to deep space?” Zyg asked as he studied charts of early Republican polling numbers. “We could survive there, of course, but my people have come to love life in Maine. It was hard enough for them to leave their home planet behind, and I fear that having to leave their adopted home planet would just be too much for them to handle.”
After I got over my initial panic at hearing the words “President Trump”, I assured Zyg that it was highly unlikely that the belligerent billionaire would win the election.
“But what if he does, Austin?” he persisted. “It is my job to gather intelligence and brief the Supreme Leader so he is prepared for any possible threats to those he has sworn to protect. Right now, this Trump is a very serious threat to the Glovorkian race.”
I pushed aside my plate and looked Zyg straight in his giant eyes. “If Trump wins the election, Americans are going to riot and beg your Supreme Leader to take over the country until common sense prevails.”
The Alien Spymaster smiled slyly and shook his big head in understanding.
He asked the Captain to set a course for Pluto, and while we enjoyed the view on the way to the ex-planet, Zyg and I discussed less stressful things like his love of baseball, why Independence Day is his all-time favorite movie comedy, and how much he’d love to have Foo Fighters give a concert on the Mothership.
Not only did I manage to defuse a possible intergalactic catastrophe that day, but I also got a great lesson in why it is so important to be accepting of those different from me.
Now if I can only convince Dave Grohl and the boys to rock out on the big ship…