Weekend Freewrite: Artichokes and Aliens

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Who would have thought that a simple trip to the grocery store for my wife would have resulted in this? I was in the produce aisle looking for mushrooms and artichokes when a voice behind me said, "Harold Wilson? Is that you?" Turning around I saw a middle-aged woman with bright orange hair, a tattoo of a monkey on her arm, and a nose ring. She was wearing a bright purple shapeless dress and some of those hippy sandals. I took all of this in very quickly, searched in my mind for a memory of anyone who looked at all like this, and came up empty-handed.

"Yes, I am Harold," I replied. "But I'm afraid I don't recognize you. Should I?"

She let out a peal of ear-shattering laughter and instantly I knew: I once dated a young woman with a scary laugh just like that! Hoping my eyes weren't giving away my horror at realizing who she was, I waited for her to say, "Remember me? Elizabeth Marks? Your old girlfriend?"

"Oh yes," I sputtered, " I would never have recognized you. You've changed a great deal." Oops, that probably wasn't the right thing to say, but it came out of my mouth.

Another piercing cackle came from her throat. "When the aliens come get me this Saturday, I'll be sure to tell them I've seen you around town. They'll be coming for you next!" My mouth dropped open. Okay, this woman was always a little weird, even 40 years ago, but now she must have gone completely over the edge.

"Aliens?" I cautiously asked. " Do they make appointments or something?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I've been in contact with them for years! They keep promising they'll pick me up when they are in the area, and this Saturday is the day! I can't wait!"

"Are you unhappy with your life here?" I asked. I was genuinely concerned about her now, but unsure how to follow this impossible train of thought.

"I hate my life," she announced flatly. "Nobody has ever loved me. Nobody wants me around. I'm different, and people are uncomfortable around me. I really think will get along much better with the aliens than I ever have with earthlings."

"Well, I am quite happy with my life here, " I explained to her, "and I would prefer it if no aliens came to take me away. Right now I need to finish picking up these groceries for my wife and get back home, so if you'll excuse me, I'd better get moving." She chuckled impishly. "Be sure to tell Marge you saw me, and tell her I said hello."

That dirty window in the car had been annoying me for weeks. I'd never think to wash it once I got home, but there it was, taunting me every time I got in to drive again. Taunting my poor memory. Yes, that poor memory that had forgotten all about Elizabeth until she laughed. What did I ever see in her? Oh yeah. I was only 16, and all a guy sees at 16 is the big boobs and the shapely legs. We only lasted for six months, though. I am quite sure she never thought an original thought in all her life. She was always quoting movie stars and talk show hosts, trying to sound important without knowing anything at all about anything. And here she was with her ghastly hair, piercings, and tattoos, still trying to be somebody she wasn't. Wait. Maybe that's who she really was all along! Maybe she finally figured out who she really is. But aliens? How did the aliens fit in? Did she have mental problems now? Wait, maybe she was still quoting movie stars and talk show hosts. Maybe her memory was slipping, too. Maybe she was thinking about that old song, "Come Saturday morning, I'm going away with my friends." Perhaps her friends really were aliens. Maybe not outer space aliens, but illegal aliens. Maybe she was just going to Mexico for the weekend. No, she mentioned earthlings. Creepy.

I pulled into my driveway, parked the car, and made yet another mental note to wash the window. When I walked into the kitchen I found a note on the table. "Harold, the spaceship came while you were at the store. I'm leaving now. If you can find Elizabeth you can come with her on Saturday. Love, Marge"

Never heard of a weekend freewrite? There are three prompts. You look at the first prompt and write for five minutes. Then you look at the second prompt and keep the story going for another five minutes. Then you look at the third prompt and finish your story in five minutes. It's often quite a challenge to work the prompts into the story you have started, but it is a lot of fun! Check @mariannewest's page to find the prompts!