text: [Themes: Alien Visitation, Satire, child protagonist, aliens, Comedy]
  
  > look at your surroundings
  Normally the backyard is boring, but not tonight! Tonight the lawn
  has been crisped by the arrival of the silvery ship. It sits there, gleaming under the bright backyard lights your dad installed a while back. Its shadow stretches across the brick patio and Weber grill. Your house is to the south.
  
  With the sound of a thousand cats yowling a thousand different songs, a piece of the saucer lowers, forming a ramp. For a few seconds, the only things coming out of the ship are gouts of white gas which quickly dissipate.
  
  Then the aliens step forth.
  
  Full of might and majesty, two shapes drift down the ramp and onto the zoysia grass. One is purple and cylindrical, with several tentacles dangling. The other is green and much more blobby, though he too is be-tentacled.
  
  The purple alien squints for a moment at the bright lights, then produces a small box with a rotating antenna on it. He punches some buttons on the box. It responds with bleeps and blips. The purple one nods and puts the box away. "Scan for life signs in immediate vicinity complete. Two adults, one child, no tabloid reporters found."
  
  "Good," the green one says. "We now must--" He stops, staring right at you. You blink.
  
  "Zigurt," the purple alien says to the green one. His voice is thick with worry.
  
  "Shh," the green alien replies. "I am cogitating."
  
  "Ziiiiiguuurt," the purple alien whines.
  
  "Shh!"
  
  "But ZIIiiIIiiIIiiguuuurt, the child can see us! Why is that?" The purple alien turns to the green one, filling the air with his flailing tentacles. "You said the neurotron would prevent our detection. You said that this would be a slight wind, that this would be without difficulty!"
  
  "Silence, Floban." The purple alien falls quiet. "We will unravel this conundrum in due time. For now, I have closed the child's avenue of retreat." You spin around--sure enough, a curtain of energy has sprung up between you and your house.
  
  > enter the ship
  The aliens move to block you.
  
  The two aliens begin whispering back and forth. "Obviously the child is the Ambassador Plenipotentiary for this planet."
  
  "A child?"
  
  "Certainly. The Zufans' intelligence, while fearful in their young, diminishes with age. All of their civil servants are children. Why not with Terrans? Have you not seen the their `sit-coms,' in which the children are all-knowing and their elders impotent fools?"
  
  "Fine, fine, fine. But can the child understand us?" Zigurt responds by displaying a plain metal rod. "Ah, yes. I had forgotten of the translator."
  
  > Hello
  "Kindly hold your tongue until we have decided your fate."
  
  Zigurt makes a sound like that of gravel being crushed underfoot. "Floban, would this not be an opportune time to present our demands to the Ambassador?"
  
  Floban looks hurt. "I was preparing the list mentally," he says truculently. "There is no need for you to clear your esophageal passages at me.
  
  "Human child!" The latter is directed at you, making you jump. Floban moves forward, looming ominously. "We are here on behalf of all spacefaring races who must cope with the mess your species is making. Must you shout your news across all radio frequencies?"
  
  "Mmm, Floban," says Zigurt.
  
  "Must I hear of your puny world wars? Must I deal with the endless chatter of a semi-sentient race? Must you flood the universe with your `top-ten lists' and `buzz clips'?"
  
  "What about our demands, Floban?"
  
  "Must I sully the tips of my tentacles by dipping them in the muck of this world? Must I stop your stupid, stupid development of Solarnite? Must I spend more time on a backwards planet, educating the--"
  
  "FLOBAN! FOOD!"
  
  Floban winces. "Not so loud," he hisses to Zigurt. "One moment, please, Ambassador," he says to you as he rolls back to Zigurt.
  
  > Wait
  Time passes...
  
  Zigurt and Floban have a hurried, whispered discussion. Finally, Zigurt moves closer to you. "Our trip has been a long one, and we are in need of sustenance. You will bring us rock salt, so that we might de-hydrate."
  
  "And some Ho-Hos," Floban interjects hopefully.
  
  Zigurt glares at Floban. Finally, grudgingly, he adds, "And some Ho-Hos. You will--"
  
  "And a memento!" says Floban.
  
  This silence lasts longer than the previous one. Slowly Zigurt swivels around to stare at Floban. "A...memento?" he asks.
  
  "Oh, my, yes! The preliminary scan--" he waves around the small box you saw before, "--showed a high concentration of mementos somewhere within the domicile. We should obtain...one to...add..." Floban's words trail off under Zigurt's glare.
  
  Zigurt sighs before turning back to you. "Bring us rock salt, some Ho-Hos," he pauses and glares again at Floban, who ducks his head, "and a memento. You will bring them to our skrrbtz..." Zigurt frowns, shakes the translator. "Enter our fzzgt..." His frown is deeper this time. "Our gblzzt..." He waves his tentacles, distressed.
  "`Universal translator' my anterior appendage!" he shouts.
  
  "Please, not so loud!" Floban brings out an open white bottle and pops a pill from it. "I am experiencing a horrendous headache. If you would but wait a moment." From somewhere he finds a large book, which he consults. "The word you want is `sheep'."
  
  Zigurt pauses, rolling the strange word around in his mouth, tasting its sounds. "Bring the rock salt, Ho-Hos, and memento to our sheep.
  We will wait."
  
  > look at the grill
  Roundish, red, with three legs and wheels. Occasionally dad uses it to flash-burn meat into flaky, charcoal lumps.
  
  Zigurt and Floban drift back up the ramp. When they are near the top, they stop. "Oh, and tell your world governments' spacefarers to clean up after themselves in orbit," Zigurt says.
  
  "Yeah, especially that Mir."
  
  Zigurt negligently waves a tentacle, making the curtain of energy vanish, and the two aliens disappear into their ship.
  
  > open grill
  No thanks. Last time dad cooked something in it, it almost exploded from all the lighter fluid. If you open it and get soot all over you, you'll probably have to clean it.
  
  > Go south
  A short hall lined with dark wood panelling. It connects the
  kitchen, to the west, with the living room, to the east. The backyard is north of here.
  
  > go east
  The living room is the rumpled center of your home. Comfy floral furniture, a few shelves filled with knick-knacks, a window, two parents, and a TV. The hallway to the kitchen is west, and the unimportant rest of your home (mentioned here merely for the sake of completeness) is south.
  Mom is here, knitting away.
  Dad is slowly going through today's paper.
  
  Mom says, "You better be done with those dishes, kid," and smiles.
  
  > look athe knick-knacks
  Collectibles out the wazoo. Well, out the shelves. Hummel figurines, Franklin Mint plates, even a bunch of plastic smurfs. One entire shelf is filled with Precious Moments dolls, all of them staring at you with wide eyes, exuding eerie cuteness.
  
  > take the doll
  Mom glances at you. "Leave that stuff alone, kid."