Elizabeth Stockmeyer's Most Unusual Morning

Through her glasses, with lenses thick as a soda bottle bottom, sixteen-year-old Elizabeth Stockmeyer spotted a flash of bare human flesh through the woods about 20 yards down Stickle Road from her family's farm. Snipgridix, the teenage alien hermaphrodite shapeshifter, wandered out of the forest. Unfortunately, he hadn't yet mastered the art of being human. His sky blue left foot was a size 6 and his right sky blue foot size 18. The right side of his body was white while the left side was black. Otherwise, he appeared average height, weight, brown hair and forgettable face. He had one purple eyeball and one orange.

The most interesting thing, of course, for young Elizabeth was she now knew what gentleman kepthidden beneath their khakis. She suspected the weather on this November morning in 1946 may have affected the young man's, uh, “equipment” which the stranger made no attempt to cover. She had heard from the other girls to expect the young man's thingie to be much larger.

“Buenas dias,” said the youth. “You wouldn't happen to know where I could obtain some of those outer coverings you creatures wear, would you?”

“You must be freezing. Here, cover yourself with my coat.” Elizabeth removed her navy blue wool A-line jacket and handed it to the stranger.

“Thank you.” The newcomer attempted to put the coat on upside down. Then he twisted it sideways to wear like a wrap. He smiled at Elizabeth. “Ist gute, ya?”

“You'd think you never in your life wore a coat before. Let me help you.” Elizabeth moved behind the man and held up the jacket. “Slip your arms in these holes.” From this position she missed seeing the young man conform his body to the size of the A-line. “Oh, my, a perfect fit, but how is that possible? Come to my house where you may borrow my father's clothes. They'll be way too big on you, but you can't go about naked and half frozen to death even if you are a Nazi spy.”

While her Mom assisted the young visitor with his apparel needs, Elizabeth waited in the kitchen with a well-sugared and creamed cup of coffee by the wood stove. She sauntered down the hall where she called the sheriff's department on the telephone to report the arrival of the odd-colored naked stranger. The sheriff ended the conversation by suggesting Elizabeth make a fresh pot of coffee.

Within a short time, her mother returned with the young man behind.

“Your father's clothes fit,” Mom said.

“But that's not possible,” Elizabeth said. “My coat fit him before. Besides he lost some of his color and now his feet match. What's going on here?”

“We can worry about that later. I'll drive you to school, but first, let me pour Fred a cup of coffee.” Mom picked up the coffeepot.

“Sorry, Mom, but I called the sheriff. We should wait.”

“Don't worry. I'll make breakfast for Fred in the meantime.”

Thirty minutes later, Fred, or Snipgridix as his home world folks named him, watched out the window of the kitchen as Sheriff Tate liberated his oversize mid-section from behind the wheel of his Chevy in the driveway. An unmarked black Ford sedan parked next to the sheriff's Chevy and ejected four tall, thin men dressed in black suits, black neckties, white shirts, black hats and black shoes. They wore black sunglasses.

THE END

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