THE TURQUOISE PEN

OUT OF THE BLUE

Noël R. King

Well, I saw a spaceship once, in a movie when I was young. So I knew what it was when I pulled up in front of my house and there it sat, in the driveway.

My husband wasn’t home, or I would have left it all to him. He is much better with strangers than I am, and I really was plenty tired, a long day at work.

I was going to at least wait until after I had changed clothes and had had something to eat and drink before dealing with it, but as I walked past it—stepping one foot into the grass just to get by—its hatch opened on the side. A little space being stepped out.

I could hear it talking in my head—I guess it was using that thought stuff, telephony or whatever they call it—and it basically asked very politely if it could park its spaceship there for a while. Apparently it had a flat tire or something that needed to be fixed.

I was a little exasperated, to be honest. Why did it have to choose my driveway, my house, to land in?

But I realized the thing probably couldn’t take off again with a flat tire, and, truthfully, it made my house look more modern and balanced, architecturally speaking, than it really was.

I said, "Of course. Let me know if you need any help," and the space alien dipped its head and scurried back up the hatch.

Later, when my husband came home, he said, "What is that in our driveway?" It was dark then, so of course he couldn’t really see what it was.

"It’s a spaceship," I said. "They’re fixing a flat."

"Oh."

Then. . . . "Well, how long do they plan to be there?"

"Don’t know. Didn’t say."

The next morning I looked out the window and the spaceship was gone. So were all the tires on our cars.

"Fancy that," said my husband.

"Yeah," I said. "Wow."

You know, I really kinda wish I had asked that thing the meaning of life.

—As circumstances warrant, through her Turquoise Pen column Noël R. King, South Riding, Virginia, reports on strange and wonderful things, including spaceships with flat tires.