Observations of The Urban Spaceman 
This Abduction’s Bed – Flash Fiction Challenge
Friday? Check.
Chuck Wendig Flash Fiction Challenge? Check.
Today I used this link to generate the following scenario:
The story starts when your protagonist wakes up in the wrong bed.
Another character is a pilot who is hiding a body.
The result is me using all I’ve ever learnt about Spanish from the TV in a story called…
This Abduction’s Bed
I get abducted by aliens.
Most people laugh when I tell them that.
It happens three or four times per year. I’m taken from my bed, beamed up or whatever to the mothership, possibly probed, and then returned to the Earth. The problem is, aliens—my abductors, at least—aren’t particularly choosey about where they return me to. First time it happened I woke up in France. I don’t speak French, and I hate snails, so that was a challenge for me. Second time it was Australia, and then Japan, and then Uzbekistan; if you’ve heard of it, you’re already doing better than me. I didn’t know the damn place even existed, until I woke up there.
Have you ever been to Guatemala? I hadn’t either, before today, when I woke up in a goddamn temple, of all things. I kid you not. Opened my peepers and found myself lying on some bloody stone slab in what looked like an Indiana Jones set. I suppose I’m lucky there weren’t any snakes around… or tourists. I hate tourists. Didn’t used to, but that’s what happens when you’re forced to become the world’s (probably) first unwilling tourist.
Guatemala’s nice. I’ve managed to find myself a little village, about three hours’ hike through the jungle. Hot, sweaty, trees, birds, you get the idea. Don’t know why, but ever since the little grey and/or green men started taking me, I’ve developed homing-pigeon-like senses. All I have to do is think of a place, and I know the direction it lies in. Even if I don’t know the name of the place, or anything more about it except “the nearest village that has indoor plumbing.”
Sometimes I wonder if the aliens are downloading information into my head. Maybe I’m their human puppet, dancing on their radio-strings. I really have no memory about what happens once the white light engulfs me, so it’s entirely possible they’ve installed a computer in my brain. Or at the very least, an amazingly clever Satnav.
So I’m sitting just outside this little village, underneath a sort of palm-leaf parasol, sipping what probably passes for a mojito. The locals don’t speak much English (they do, however, understand wild-gesticulation for ‘please give me a mojito’) but I just asked the local barman if guacamole is made in Guatemala and he looked at me as if I was nuts. Though maybe that’s something to do with the fact that I’m still wearing the fluffy bunny jammies I got abducted in last night. Not my fault. I’m sure he would wear fluffy bunny PJs if he had to endure Canadian winters.
As I’ve been sitting here, a little biplane has just pulled up on what they laughably call an air-strip. This is my ride out of here, and not a moment too soon. This mojito tastes suspiciously like snail. Maybe it’s French.
The pilot jumps out of the plane, a tanned guy wearing a straw hat and a pair of shorts with a mango motif on them. This does not instil me with confidence. I like my pilots to wear suits, or at the very least, proper shoes instead of piecemeal leather sandals. But beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose, so I approach him with my best disarming smile.
“You my pick-up, yes?” he asks, in broken English.
“That’s right. Just take me to anywhere with an international airport, and I’ll pay you handsomely.”
“Si, Si. Refuel first, otherwise we go nowhere. Si?”
“Si,” I sigh, wiping the sweat from my brow and wishing my jammies weren’t so stifling. I speak fluent Spanish, now. And French. Even know a few words of Chinese. You pick up these things, when aliens play Russian Roulette with your life.
Curious about the state of the plane, I peer into it, and notice a sole inhabitant within. The guy’s obviously a tourist, white-grey skin, huge black sunglasses perched on his nose, massive straw hat on his head. And, weirdly, he’s opting to stay in the plane whilst the pilot refuels, instead of coming out to sample the local snail-juice. God, he must be baking in there; it’s into the nineties here, and that’s in the shade. Airtight metal fuselage like that is enough to cook meat, in this weather.
Wait a moment. White-grey isn’t the normal colour for human skin.
“Hey, I think this guy’s dead,” I call to the pilot.
“No, no ha muerto. Is alive,” the pilot returns as he hauls a large canister out from behind the bar and over to the plane.
“Loco,” I hear the barman say to the pilot, making the universal sign for ‘crazy’ beside his head.
There’s definitely a strange whiff coming from inside the plane, I can smell it even from here. But I shrug, and wait for my pilot. What do I know? I’m just a tourist.
Glorken
The Urban Spaceman
Observations of The Urban Spaceman 
Great description and a lovely story. I love the laid back attitude he’s developed to life and being abducted. I assume he keeps a credit card in his bunnie jammies now!
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Why thanks, I’m glad you enjoyed it! There’s no credit-card-pocket in the jammies, but there is a well-maintained paypal account!
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Mr Spaceman, you really gotta stop being among the first to share, you are such a hard act to follow!
Great story, I loved the rambling inner monologue, remind me never to drink mojito’s again. But I have one major complaint! Seriously, you can’t just stop the story there! I need to know the rest!
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Aww, thanks, Trine! 🙂 And sorry, I’ll tell my typing pool of monkeys to try and go a little slower next time… I just have a thing about procrastinating, though. Like to get things done ASAP so I don’t have to worry about them anymore!
If I get the chance, I’ll definitely continue telling this tale in another flash fiction! Cheers for the props, and I’ll hopefully catch you next flash-fic. 😉
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Hehe, naw don’t worry about it. It’s just envy, thats all. I let my procrastination get the better of me way too often.
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I thought it was hilarious. Ditto to the comments about the bunny PJs. Great touch. Really good job.
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Thanks, I’m happy it tickled your funny-bone!
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Great job! You make it look so easy. 🙂
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Thankyah! Though to be honest, I did have to refresh the generator a dozen times to find a prompt that I thought I could work with. Dunno if that counts as cheating, but glad you enjoyed the story.
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Spaceman, you continue to be my hero. I had a blast reading this flash. Always a terrific time! And the PJ’s! What a hoot, man. I dig it.
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Awww, man, now I have that awful Mariah Carey ‘Hero’ song stuck in my head 😦
I’m happy you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it, however. That more than makes up for dreadful head-music!
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My bad. I feel awful that I struck you with horrible head music. It was not my intent, and I’ve never heard the song so I can only imagine how bad it must be. I have a quick fix!
David Bowie- Heroes. Hope it helps. 🙂
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Hurrah, much better, thankya! 🙂
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Fluffy bunny pyjamas? Hmmm… yeah, not the thing to wear in South America. 😛
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Indeed, it was rather unfortunate, though amusing 😛
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My question is how did you get this flash up so quick. I haven’t even looked at the prompt yet.
Really great story, I love how the guy is so ‘blah blah more crap I gotta deal with blah’.
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Well, I knew I only had about 40 minutes to write (was mid-way through cooking chimichangas and was about to hit a crucial spice stage) so I just refreshed the prompt until I found something that looked both easy and entertaining, and then paid my team of helper-monkeys three extra bananas in overtime to churn out the story pronto.
I’m also very good at rambling, and this story was essentially one big ramble. Glad you liked it, because I (and my monkeys) had super fun writing it. Can’t wait to see what other people come up with!
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Wonderful story! I wish oh how I wish I had your imagination! Or even a fraction thereof. My mind is too stuck in the where is what is mode. Sigh.
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Thanks very much for the kind words! To be honest, I feel like some of my stories are hit and miss. This one turned out as a hit, I think… just felt good to write it. Don’t give up, and you’ll get to where you want to be eventually 🙂
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Little edit : I think you meant “THEN Uzbekistan.”
Great story! Very amusing and strong voice (as always) I like how you just snuck the dead body in at the end.
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Oops *quick edit* thanks, amended 🙂
And cheers. Yes, those dead bodies sneak in everywhere… airplanes, story endings, god knows where they’ll turn up next!
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I thought it was an alien at first—one finally come out in the daytime. I love how blase the protagonist is about it, but I suppose being abducted all the time would put things in perspective!
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Sometimes a dead body’s just a dead body. I hope Chuck gives us a “dead body” prompt soon so I can explain what it’s doing there 🙂 But yeah, I think someone who’s abducted on a regular basis and abandoned halfway around the world wouldn’t blink twice at a corpse.
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That’s true—and the way you put it in there still had a purpose without it being a murder mystery just because there’s a body. I’m sure you’ll find a way to twist the next prompt to include dead bodies if you so choose 🙂
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Yeah… though that kinda makes me sound like some fetish weirdo! 😉
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Well…
Just kidding. I think 99% of the time if you write it for Chuck’s prompts, people will think nothing of it.
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