Article: 178432 of talk.bizarre
From: (d.)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: That Alien Feeling
Date: 1 Dec 1994 07:33:56 GMT
Organization: Old Dominion University CS Dept.
Lines: 66
Message-ID: <3bju94$>
Status: O

Part of his shoulder had been blown off by the gun the shouting
creature had shot at him, and the pain was unendurable.  Stumbling
through the alien forest, he came upon a small shack.

There were some sort of guard creatures out front.  He paused, first
from caution, then from curiosity.  They were half dog, half turtle it
seemed.  Doggie feet, doggie legs, doggie head, doggie tail, turtle
shell.  He would have laughed from the strangeness of it all if the
day hadn't gone so badly already.

Ok, Greg had been an alien.  Ok, Greg had captured him and brought him
to this alien planet in a flying saucer.  Ok, some betentacled thing
was getting its kicks hunting him down with some sort of acid spitting
gun.  This had all sunk in as he had run through the strangely
earth-like forest.

But these dog-turtles, these durtles!

"Mnerw Mnerw Mnerw," one commented.

"Mnerw Mnerw Mnerw," the other added in a higher pitched voice.

There didn't seem to be much more to do, he just walked up and brushed
past them.  He entered the shack and they didn't even move a muscle,
only looked at him curiously with soft brown doggy eyes.  He sighed
out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and looked around.

Round shack, rising up into an open cone point.  The walls were all
covered with cabinets made of some dark wood.  A large crystalline
tree dominated the center of the room, catching the light from the
skylight in an amazing way.

He had turned to begin searching the cabinets for something to treat
his shoulder with when something touched him on the shoulder.  He
turned to find the crystal tree looming above him, grasping him
gracefully with those clear branches and lifting him into the air.
Screaming all the while, it carried him away from the cabinets and
then something sharp pricked him in the neck...

When he woke he felt rather good, actually.  It took him a moment to
realize he was lying in the center of the shack staring up through the
skylight at the night stars.  While clambering to his feet he realized
his shoulder no longer hurt.

He looked over at it and nearly threw up.  Where there once had been a
half-melted hole in his shoulder there was now a pulsing slimy
baseball-sized glob.  It seemed to have a small opening facing towards
his head, looking uncomfortably like a mouth.

A touch at his shoulder.  He turned to view the crystalline tree
again, which gracefully moved its branches in an odd dance before him.

"He says you owe him 15 triskids," the mouth on his shoulder told him

When he recovered from his faint, he found that nothing else seemed to
surprise him anymore.


Truth, tears and tirades.