Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

            Nevada, circa 1951.

            On a rural desert road in southern Nevada, a 1949 Chevrolet 3100 cruised to the tune of Les Paul and Mary Ford’s ‘How High the Moon.’ Behind the wheel of the Chevy was the cheery Bobby Wright, an 18-year-old mechanic in the small, humble town of Rachel. He had just gotten off work that Friday night and was right on his way to see his sweetheart, Betty Weaver, at the local diner. Nothing could bring him down or wipe away the smile he had on his face since the moment he left Pat’s Repair Shop.

            That was before his radio suddenly dropped into static – no longer was he able to hear the soothing, swinging voices of Les and Mary.

            “What the hey...?” he muttered in confusion.

            It only got stranger when his engine suddenly died, slowing his Chevy down to a complete stop there in the middle of State Route 375.

            Now Bobby’s cheery smile and demeanor were gone.

            He allowed himself time to shout out several expletives – words he would never say in front of Betty, his mother, or any other member of the fairer sex – before he got out to check under the hood and investigate the issue. Thankfully, he kept his tools in the truck bed for such an unfortunate circumstance. The merits of being a 24/7 working mechanic.

            It was the strangest thing: there were zero signs of any damage to the engine.

            The darn thing was still practically brand new, despite being a few years old.

            As Bobby mulled it over with the scratch of his head, something brighter than the sun shone over his head. He looked up in curiosity, suspecting that it might have been some sort of aircraft. Too low to be a plane. Could it have been one of those new crafts? A ‘heely-copter’ or whatever it’s called?

            The oddest part about it was that he didn’t even hear the thing pass over.

            None of it mattered. He needed to get his Chevy running again to make it in time for his date.

            If only he could figure out how to get it running again.

            But then the overhead light returned...and this time it stayed shining right specifically on Bobby and his Chevy. Looking up with a hand outstretched to block the mysterious gleam, through his fingertips, he was able to make out a circular, metallic shape floating more than twenty feet in the air.

            Bobby was struck with awe and fear.

            He had heard the stories from the local farmers...about the UFOs that would come and steal their livestock. Up until then, he figured they were all ghost stories to spook the cow tippers.

            Whatever was flying above him that very second was anything but a story.

            It was a real, honest-to-God UFO.

            Frightened, he attempted to run but was suddenly paralyzed...not by fear, but by some strange invisible force that held him in place long enough to lift him off the ground and straight up to board the UFO.

            All he could think in those unsettling seconds was how disappointed Betty was going to be.

Chapter Text

Part One

            The following morning, near the scene of the alien abduction, another ship manifested in the area. This one, however, had a more subtle arrival — this one was the one-and-only ‘Type-X’ model of a time-ship known as a ‘TARDIS’ (short for ‘Time And Relative Dimensions In Space’), piloted by Aznavorian the Tinkerer — a Deltan-born Time Lord and super skilled inventor/engineer. As a Time Lord, Aznavorian’s appearance and personality changed through a process of molecular readjustment called ‘regeneration.’ As such, the one landing their Type-X TARDIS along Route 375 was a tall black Englishwoman who called herself ‘Tiffany.’

            She emerged from her white orb-shaped ship alongside her companion, Starla Becker — a 20-year-old human woman from 21st century Earth of Tiffany’s home dimension. Both women were dressed in attire appropriate to the era they arrived in: Tiffany in a dress suit that consisted of a white blouse, a fitting jacket, and a pencil skirt; and Starla in a polka-dotted dress and black choker with a pinup hairstyle to complete the ensemble.

            “Good ol’ Nevada in good ol’ 1951!” Tiffany announced in zeal, breathing in the hot desert air. “Only 411 miles and four years away from Disneyland!”

            Starla wished she had added a pair of sunglasses to her outfit, finding herself shielding her eyes from the sun blistering above them. “Disneyland would’ve been a better place for a massive rift surge to appear. We’re literally in the middle of nowhere.”

            “Not necessarily ‘nowhere,’ luv,” Tiffany debunked. “We’re standin’ right along what will one day be the Extraterrestrial Highway.”

            Starla looked, with renewed interest, on the rural desert road near their arrival point. “For real? That means we’re not too far from Area 51!”

            “Another thing that won’t be along for another four years,” Tiffany elaborated.

            “Hold up, we’re in 1951,” Starla recapped. “Is that the reason you benched the Stump Kids inside the TARDIS?”

            “Yep,” Tiffany verified.

            “They seemed pretty upset about it — Kelsey, most of all.”

            Tiffany sighed at this. “It’s for their own protection, luv.”

            “From what? Utter boredom?” Starla snickered, only to stop herself immediately afterwards when she saw the seriousness in Tiffany’s face. And then it dawned on the 20-year-old, as she thought of one of the three Stump Kids specifically — Omar, a black child. Starla felt terrible for making light of it. “Oh, Tiff…I didn’t realize…I’m so sorry.”

            Tiffany offered her a kind smile and a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, luv.”

            “But, wait, what about you?” Starla asked Tiffany — a black woman.

            “Who? Me?” Tiffany scoffed. “I’m not worried. I’ve been to Earth eras like this one before during my two previous lives. I’ve faced prejudice as a black man and an Asian woman. After awhile, I’ve toughened up to it…” She then concluded with a burdensome sigh, “…still, it’s something that disgusts me to see happen to people who aren’t doing anyone harm.”

            “Likewise,” Starla concurred. “The scariest part is how much it hasn’t changed, even in the 21st century! I used to be afraid for my ex-boyfriend, Deonte, every time he would drive over the speed limit, just to piss off any white officers on patrol. He was always an idiot…probably the reason why I broke up with him.” Realizing she was rambling on, she dropped the topic altogether and refocused on why she and Tiffany were there in the unforgiving hot climate. “Any-who, where should we start on finding this rift?”

            “The town of Rachel isn’t too far from here,” Tiffany said. “Let’s start at the one place where everyone will be this time of the day.”

            Starla frowned, wishing she had brought her phone to check the time. “Exactly what time is it?”

            “Lunchtime,” Tiffany answered with a wink.

            Starla got the gist of Tiffany’s meaning once they made it through their half mile long walk to Rachel and went into a place called Jerry’s Diner. The inside of the diner was as bland as the outside, but neither Starla nor Tiffany expected anything less from such an establishment in a small town in the 1950s.

            Neither was it all that much of a surprise to see how segregated it was between the black and white patrons, with one side for ‘White’ and the other for ‘Colored’ (with signs to correspond the difference). The very sight made Starla sick to her stomach, despite the aroma of delicious foods that welcomed visitors like themselves.

            Tiffany seemed to have noticed how uncomfortable she was, whispering to her, “Don’t worry, luv. We won’t be here for too long. Just enough to get answers.”

            “Maybe it’s not all that bad,” said Starla, with a sudden air of hopefulness. “Take a look there.” She pointed to the center of the counter, which happened to be the juncture of the segregation line. There sat two elderly farmers — one black, one white — engaged in a friendly exchange, regardless of their racial differences.

            “Now that is a comfort,” Tiffany said with an approving smile. “A rare one, of course, for this troubled period in American history.”

            “I heard from ol’ Benny Thompson that Bobby was taken by stinkin’ Commies,” the white farmer said.

            “Ol’ Benny is a natural born liar,” the black farmer disputed.

            “It’s the Reds, I tells ya,” said the white farmer, after a sip of his morning coffee. “That young Wisconsin senator…what’s-his-face…McCartney…he knew it before everyone else. They’re in our schools, at our jobs…hell, word has it that they’re even in Hollywood.”

            The black farmer chuckled. “The Great Hollywood Invasion, eh? So, what? You thinkin’ pretty boys like William Holden are Commies?”

            “You laugh, but don’t be surprised if they find Bobby Wright dead.”

            The black farmer scolded his friend with an austere shushing. “Now why ya have to go and say somethin’ foolish like that, when Betty’s standin’ right over there?” He specifically gestured to a 17-year-old waitress behind the counter. She was in the middle of cleaning the countertop when she stopped mid-wipe upon hearing the white farmer’s words.

            “Oh, Betty,” he muttered in shame. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

            Betty put on a brave smile. “It’s quite alright, Mr. Gregory. I know you meant nothin’ by it.” She abandoned her cleaning to refill the two farmers’ coffee cups. “And I think nothin’ of it myself. I know my Bobby’s still out there somewhere, and he’ll be found again. We all know how he’s always up to something.”

            “What would that ‘something’ be?” Tiffany suddenly interceded.

            Starla’s ears pricked at the American accent her Time Lord friend put on, sounding like Judy Garland.

            Betty and the two old farmers regarded Tiffany’s presence there in the diner with fascination and confusion. “Just...the type of nonsense he’s usually up to…when he’s not with me, of course,” said Betty, seeming very guarded in her answer. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

            “A curious journalist from Carson City,” Tiffany answered, flashing her psychic paper to convince the three locals of her cover identity. “I’m here with my cub reporter.” She gestured to Starla, who smirked at her assigned cover. “Where was Bobby last seen?”

            “They found his Chevy along Route 375 earlier this morning,” Betty said. “Twenty miles from town, to be exact.”

            Tiffany and Starla exchanged a quick knowing glance.

            That specific route was precisely where they landed a mere hour ago.

            Believing this to be a lead in their investigation, Tiffany and Starla started on their way out of the diner, all while Tiffany said to Betty, “Thanks for the tip, sweetheart.”

            “And we’ll find Bobby…I promise,” Starla sympathetically added.

            Tiffany smiled on her young companion, admiring her way of inspiring hope. But, truthfully, she did not know whether or not Bobby would be found…or if he was even alive.

Chapter Text

Part Two

            Returning to the future Extraterrestrial Highway to follow on their lead in investigating the mysterious disappearance of Bobby Wright, Tiffany and Starla relied on Tiffany’s sonic screwdriver to work as a detector — scanning for nuage energy. Their signal detection brought them to a farm on the edge of town. Near the farmland were heavy traces of nuage energy.

            “And…what does that mean?” Starla was getting used to asking that, being around Tiffany for as long as she had been.

            “It means, luv, that whatever took dear Bobby Wright was not from this reality,” Tiffany disclosed.

            “He was taken by the rift?”

            “He was taken by something that came out of the rift.”

            “What’s a rift?” A little curious voice asked, all of the sudden. Starla and Tiffany looked to each other, both knowing neither of them asked the question. They then looked down and, to their surprise, there stood a little 8-year-old African-American boy in overalls and a newsboy cap; he seemed to have been big on news, with an oversized newspaper bag slumped around his tiny frame.

            He was absolutely adorable in the eyes of Starla and Tiffany, the former of whom knelt down to his level and sweetly said to him, “It’s kinda like an invisible hole into another dimension…like The Twilight Zone.”

            The little boy frowned. “What’s The Twilight Zone?”

            “A TV show about stories in other dimensions?” Starla said knowingly.

            The little boy shrugged.

            Starla fleetingly glimpsed at the nearby farmhouse from where she presumed the boy to have emerged. “You don’t watch a lot of television, lil’ dude?”

            “Is you a weirdo or somethin’?!” the little boy asked her. “What the blazes is ‘television’?!?!”

            Confused, Starla felt Tiffany’s hand come down on her shoulder. “You’re eight years early, luv,” the Tinkerer told her with a giggle. She then focused on the little boy and inquired, “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Starla noticed how Tiffany didn’t hide her English accent around the kid.

            “Folks call me ‘Scoop’,” the boy said proudly. “Is y’all lookin’ for Bobby Wright? It was them aliens that took him.”

            “Aliens?!” Tiffany and Starla bellowed in sync.

            “What else did you see, honey?” Starla asked him.

            Scoop pointed directly to the spot along the side of the road where Tiffany picked up on the heavy traces of nuage energy earlier. “He gots plucked right up likes a daisy right there — gots pulled right into the UFO by a tractor!”

            “You mean a tractor beam?” Tiffany elaborated, and Scoop nodded.

            “It was the same UFO that’s been stealin’ my Paw-Paw’s cows,” Scoop added.

            “Have you told anyone else about this UFO, Scoop?” Tiffany asked.

            “I tolds the cops…they laughed at me.”

            “No, they didn’t!” Starla was visibly disgusted to hear this. “That’s a horrible thing to do to a little boy!” She couldn’t help but to give Scoop a hug. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

            “Me, too, luv,” Tiffany supported. “They shouldn’t have done that.”

            Scoop didn’t let it faze him; instead, he moved on to ask them, “Are y’all reporters? I wants to be a reporter when I grows up. Reporters don’t gets laughed at or laughs at anybody. Y’all didn’t laughs at me.”

            “Because we believe every word of what you say, baby,” Starla said. “And you’re right — we are reporters. You’ve got good intuition to spot that.”

            “You also have a very attentive eye, luv,” Tiffany told Scoop.

            Scoop scratched his head through his newsboy cap. “What does ‘assentive’ mean?”

            “Attentive means that you saw the UFO take Bobby Wright — something no one else has seen,” Tiff explained.

            Scoop beamed at this. “I also seens where it lands! It lands in one spot in the desert, every midnight! If y’all want, y’all can stays at my house and watch it with me!”

            Tiffany and Starla both gave consenting nods and smiles.

            “Sounds like a deal,” Starla told Scoop. “And, to make it even sweeter, we’re gonna make you our honorary cub reporter.”

            Scoop’s eyes twinkled at this esteemed prospect.

            Tiffany and Starla were treated to a whole pleasant afternoon in the cozy farmhouse where Scoop lived. They ate the most amazing apple pie with some nice cool milk to wash it down. For Aznavorian, it reminded them of the years they lived on the Georgia farm as their original incarnation — Steven Curtsinger — with their wife, Kristin, and their daughter, Candace.

            As much fun as it was being there, Starla couldn’t ignore one concern she had, especially as sundown approached. “Scoop, where are your mama and daddy? You don’t live alone, do you?”

            After taking a long gulp of his milk, Scoop answered, “I don’t gots a mama and daddy — just my Paw-Paw and Granny.”

            “And where are they?” Starla asked.

            Scoop hesitated to answer for a long moment. “Cans I tell y’all a secret?” he finally said. Once Starla and Tiffany gave their permission, he continued, “My Paw-Paw and Granny were taken by the UFO.”

            Tiffany and Starla stiffened in shock over this news.

            “Sweetheart, when did this happen?” Tiff asked.

            “Last week,” Scoop said.

            Starla felt like crying. “And you’ve been here by yourself the whole time?!” Scoop gave her a sad, timid nod — his head shamefully hung low. “Why didn’t you tell anyone about it?”

            “He did,” Tiffany told her. “Remember the laughing cops?”

            The apple pie sitting in Starla’s stomach dared to come back up, hearing all of these revolting details. She felt sad for poor Scoop, angry towards the discouraging police, and determined to do the right thing. Fighting back tears, she took the little boy into her arms and told him, “We’ll get your grandparents back, lil’ dude…I promise.”

            Tiffany joined them in the hug, sharing her young companion’s resolve.

            Their combined warmth helped Scoop to feel an overwhelming wave of relief that his little body deserved after seven whole days alone in that cozy (albeit empty) farmhouse.

            At last, midnight had arrived…but the UFO did not.

            Tiffany and Starla managed to keep themselves awake with cup-after-cup of coffee. Scoop was merely driven by his own natural child energy, plus the excitement of seeing the alien spaceship again. And yet, somehow, he did see it, pointing out the window to the spot where Bobby Wright was abducted and shouting repeatedly, “There it is!”

            Starla and Tiffany looked out the window with him but only saw a dark, vacant desert. “Scoop, I’m sorry, bud…I don’t see anything,” Starla reluctantly admitted.

            “But it’s rights there, I tells ya,” Scoop grumbled. “It’s plains as days!”

            Tiffany reached into her suit jacket and retrieved a pair of eyeglasses that were pocketed away. They weren’t just any normal specs — they were her own brand of sonic glasses, functioning the same way her sonic screwdriver would. Putting them on, she was amused to finally see the UFO. “Now that is wicked,” she uttered in awe.

            “What is?” Starla turned to her. “And what’s up with the glasses?”

            “Sonic specs,” Tiffany clarified, removing them for Starla to try on. “Enables you to see through objects camouflaged by nuage.”

            Sure enough, Starla finally saw the UFO once she put on the specs.

            “Whoa,” she chuckled. “It’s really there!” She removed the specs, leaving her naked eyes to see the ‘empty’ space again, and handed them back to Tiffany. “But, one thing I don’t get is how lil’ Scoop here can see it without those glasses?”

            “I suppose his little brainwaves are in tune with the nuage’s energy waves,” Tiffany gathered, arms crossed. “It’s been known to happen — every now and then — to certain beings who’ve never once left their reality.”

            Starla scoffed. “It amazes me how you can say all that and still make sense to it.”

            Tiffany gave her an excited grin. “I am greatly tempted to see what’s inside that UFO.”

            “Me, too,” Starla concurred.

            “Me three!” Scoop cheered.

            They were already at the front door. Tiffany had it opened, only to close it immediately when a squad car pulled up to the farmhouse, its headlights briefly catching them. “Welp, that puts a wrench in the gears,” she nervously regarded the situation.

            “What do they want?!” Starla griped.

            “They’s probably comes to check up on me,” Scoop inferred. “They’s the same cops I tolds ‘bout the UFO.”

            Starla’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, they are.” She then boldly instructed her two friends, “You two go on ahead. I wanna have a word with the laughing hyenas behind those badges.” Tiffany could see the anger-fueled anxiousness in her face and decided to leave her young companion to it, sneaking out the back screen door with Scoop.

            Two middle-aged Caucasian officers — one tall, the other short with a mustache — stepped out of the squad car. Of course, Starla mentally reflected in disgust. “Evenin’, officers,” she greeted them with her best put-on, southern-accented innocence. “What seems to be the trouble?”

            “Evenin’, young lady,” said the tall officer as he adjusted the waistline of his uniformed pants. He considered Starla’s presence there. “Any reason for you being here?”

            Starla didn’t think how off-putting it looked — a white girl coming out of a farmhouse owned by black people in a segregated era. “My car broke down several miles from here, and I had no other choice but to check with the nice people of this farm for a phone…to let my folks know I’m alright,” she fibbed on the spot.

            The tall officer scowled in suspicion. “Uh-huh. You do know the people who own this farm are coloreds, right?”

            Starla winced at the outdated term. “Yessir,” she confirmed. “It was a bit of a shock, to say the least, but they seemed like nice folk to me.”

            “Oh, they are,” the mustached officer spoke up for the first time. “But, uh, their grandson is something of a handful. Talks of UFOs and little green men and all that nonsense.” He and the tall officer began to snicker.

            Starla wanted to slap the smugness off both their faces. The only thing that restrained her was seeing Tiffany and Scoop rushing up to the invisible UFO, a short distance away, and vanishing from sight thereafter. “That does sound like quite the tall tale,” she told the officers, mimicking their amusement.

            The officers’ demeanor suddenly shifted back to sincerity. “You wouldn’t happen to have been at Jerry’s Diner this morning, would you, young lady?” the tall officer inquired. “We received a tip about a colored woman and a young white girl in a polka dot dress — a lot like the one you’re wearing. Both claiming to be reporters, asking around about Bobby Wright and his disappearance.”

            Starla bit her tongue. Someone at the diner was trying to rat them out just for helping. The only plausible individual she could figure on doing such a thing was Betty Weaver, out of fear.

            “No, sir,” she fibbed again. “I didn’t even know there was a diner near here. Like I said, my car had…”

            “…broken down,” the tall officer finished her statement. “Yes, you did say that.”

            “And, as y’all can see, I’m not here with any colored woman reporter,” Starla indicated with a titter. “Why, I didn’t even know such a thing existed in these parts.”

            “They don’t,” the mustached officer noted. “According to our tip, this one claimed to be from Carson City — there aren’t even any colored male reporters there, last I checked.”

            “I see,” Starla uttered. “That is disconcerting.”

            “Do you need a tow for your vehicle, young miss?” the tall officer asked.

            “My vehicle?” Starla nearly lost track of her own narrative. “Oh! Yes, my vehicle. No, sir. My pa will take care of that. He’s a mechanic.”

            The officers both nodded. “Well, you have a good evening, miss,” the mustached officer told her.

            Starla was relieved to see them leave in their squad car, being unable to carry the conversation on any longer. If she had to hear the words ‘colored’ or ‘negro’ for another minute, she was going to flip out; she felt the urge to wash her mouth out for even uttering the former of those terms. As soon as the squad car was far enough away, she made a beeline for the UFO.

            “Golly-lee! This sho’ is amazin’!” Scoop’s eyes twinkled from all the high-end alien tech inside the UFO. It was understandably a dream come true for a little boy from the early 1950s — a time in which space exploration was still considered science fiction rather than science fact.

            Tiffany, by contrast, was very cautious the entire time. “It is quite impressive, luv, but stay close to me, yeah?” She kept a protective hand on Scoop’s shoulder as they traversed the many corridors inside the alien ship.

            “Do ya really thinks we’ll find Bobby Wright somewheres in here?” Scoop asked her.

            “I hope so, sweetheart,” Tiffany said.

            Scoop’s enthusiasm suddenly dwindled. “I hope we finds Paw-Paw and Granny, too.”

            Tiffany noticed the tears that started to stream from his little eyes. “Hey now,” she softly said, crouching down to look him in the eyes. “Let’s have a little hope, eh? I’ve never let friends like you down, and I don’t plan on startin’ anytime soon.”

            Scoop cleansed his face with his right sleeve. “We’s friends?”

            “Of course, luv.”

            “Friends tells the truth, ain’t that right?”

            “Correct.”

            “Then tells me the truth…cans I’s be a reporter likes you one day? Paw-Paw’s always tellin’ me that n*ggers can’t bees reporters, ‘cause none of us cans reads or writes.”

            This heartbreaking assumption made Tiffany sigh. “Lemme ask you this, Scoop: can you read or write?”

            “Justs a little,” Scoop said.

            “Well, I say you’re gonna prove your Paw-Paw wrong. ‘Cause as long as you can read and write, I think you’ll make one of the greatest reporters ever one day. Just promise me one thing, yeah?”

            “Sure. Whatchu want?”

            “Don’t say ‘n*ggers’ again, please?”

            Scoop frowned. “Why? It’s whats we are, ain’t it?”

            “We are many things, Scoop…but that dreadful word isn’t one of them. Just promise me you’ll never say it again, yeah?”

            Scoop could see how sorrowful it made her, and he didn’t want to make the first friend he ever had feel bad in any way. “I promises, Miss Tiffany. You’s never hears me say ‘n*ggers’ ever again.” His hand quickly slapped over his mouth, realizing his mistake. “Oops! O.K. You’s never hears me say it after that.”

            Tiff exploded with laughter, giving her new friend a hug.

            It was after that moment when they heard approaching footsteps.

            They both tensed up, believing it to be the UFO’s pilot.

            Thankfully, it was just an irate Starla. “That is the last time I ever talk to anyone with a badge in this time and place,” she bellowed.

            Tiffany shushed her as she approached. “Keep it down, luv.”

            “Sorry,” Starla complied in a hushed tone. “It’s just that…” She proceeded to cover Scoop’s ears as she ranted on. “I am so sick of these fucking Derek Chauvinistic po-po pieces of shit! They’re all the same, whether it’s in 1951 or 2025!” In her ranting, she accidentally removed one of her hands from Scoop’s ear, prompting Scoop to cover it for himself.

            “Don’t let it get under your skin, luv,” Tiffany calmly encouraged her.

            Starla scoffed. “It’s not what’s under the skin that’s the problem with dusty old white guys like that.”

            “HEY! IS SOMEONE THERE?!?!” a distraught voice suddenly cried.

            “Who’s that?” Starla frowned.

            “Must be Bobby,” Tiffany presumed.

            Bobby’s continuous cries for help led them into a room where Bobby Wright was shackled to a bolted steel chair. “Oh, thank god,” he whimpered, his face drenched in sweat and tears. “Please, for the love of God, get me out of here before he comes back!”

            “He who?” Starla inquired.

            “Greetings, earthlings!” Tiffany, Starla, and Scoop turned once they heard the friendly salutation come directly from behind them. They were all surprised to see a Roswell-type alien with big, black oval-shaped eyes — clad in a loud Hawaiian shirt and a pair of slacks — waving at them with a smile.

            “Finally! More to watch my audition!”

Chapter Text

Part Three

            Tiffany felt Scoop clinging to her hip as they stared at the alien that had been the source of much mystery in the town of Rachel. Poor thing, she thought of the little boy, who had already gone through enough with his missing grandparents, who she hoped may have been elsewhere aboard the spaceship.

            “Audition?” Starla repeated one of the alien’s first words to them. She was amazed by how fluent it was in English. “Is that why you kidnapped Bobby?”

            The alien enthusiastically nodded. “Uh-huh. For the feedback.”

            He then reached into his left pants pocket and retrieved a small device—shaped like a garage door opener. With the press of a button, the lights in the room dimmed, except for one above the alien that served as a spotlight, illuminating only him.

            “Good evening, captivated guests,” he greeted with the energy of a showman. “My name is Archiltaba Squeeknoob III! But you can call me ‘Archie’ for short.” He went on with his audition after the introduction, mostly impersonating classic movie stars like Groucho Marx and Humphrey Bogart. He also did magic tricks, acrobatic tricks, singing, dancing, and reciting the alphabet of his race—the Zorns—all within the span of thirty minutes.

            Tiffany and Starla were flabbergasted.

            Bobby wept in suffering, “No more! Please stop!”

            Scoop, however, didn’t seem to be scared anymore, applauding Archie’s performance.      The little boy’s reception touched the showbiz-obsessed alien. “Aww, thanks,” he bowed respectfully. “Ya know, that’s the first applause I’ve ever been given.”

            “Ever?” Tiffany echoed the emphasized word, curiously.

            “Before then, I presumed I’d moved this guy to tears,” Archie gestured to the weeping Bobby. “I had no idea they were tears of agony!”

            While Tiffany worked on setting Bobby free, Starla asked Archie, “Dude, why are you auditioning for a bunch of random earthlings? Shouldn’t you be doing this to some bigwig executives or something?”

            Archie shrugged sheepishly. “That’s how I figured Earth people made their break in Hollywood.”

            This surprised Tiffany, who had reached the final restraint on Bobby’s legs. The young man’s alien abduction was not for the nefarious purpose that she figured it to be. “You’ve gone ‘bout it all the wrong way, luv,” she told Archie. “Ya have to go to the source, like Starla said—ya hafta go to Hollywood.”

            Archie scratched his chin. “I thought I had come to Hollywood.” He went to the nearest wall, which pulsated with otherworldly energy that powered his ship. With the same device he had used on the lights, he switched on an oval-shaped, inorganically embedded monitor. A live feed of the Nevada desert was displayed. “Isn’t Hollywood mostly deserts?”

            Tiffany giggled. “Nah, mate. Yer several miles off course.”

            “Gah!” Archie griped. “Curse the Zorn school system and their lack of education on Earth’s geography!”

            Tiffany regarded the name of his species.

            The Zorn. I think I’ve met one of them in another realm once. Very peculiar race with an even more peculiar admiration for Earth culture. Not dangerous at all…just very overeager…and a bit dense…such being the case with Mr. Squeeknoob III.

            “Tell ya what, luv. Let Bobby go back to Earth, and we’ll help you find someone in Hollywood willin’ to give ya yer break.”

            Hearing Tiffany’s offer, Starla urgently pulled her aside and whispered, “How the hell you intend on doing that?!”

            Tiffany smirked. “I have a few ideas.”

            She then felt something tug at her skirt and looked down to see Scoop with pleading eyes that melted her hearts. “What ‘bout Paw-Paw an’ Granny?”

            “Oh, right!” Tiff mentally slapped herself for forgetting. She relayed the inquiry over to Archie, “Aside from young Bobby, did you bring anyone else aboard yer ship? Maybe a couple of earthlings that are the same color as me and this sweet lil’ boy—only much older?”

            Archie shook his head. “I only swooped up the one crying earthling.”

            Tiffany and Starla both looked down at Scoop, seeing the worry and discouragement in his face. It was enough to tear their hearts to shreds. “Oh, honey,” Starla pitied him, overwhelmed with the urge to hug him again.

            “We will find them, Scoop,” Tiffany kept to her vow.

            Betty lost count of how many restless nights it had been since Bobby went missing. It was an hour past midnight, and all she was doing was what she had been doing the past nights: longingly staring at a framed photograph of her and Bobby together. It was taken shortly after he got hired to work at Pat’s shop. Bobby was over the moon about having his first job, planning their whole future with the money he would earn—a future with a beautiful home, eight beautiful kids, and a beautiful kitchen.

            That future seemed more distant than ever now.

            Betty was beginning to accept that the love of her life was dead when she heard a knock at the front door of her parents’ home. It stirred her mother awake; her father slept like a log. “Now who on earth could that be this time of night?” her mother asked, standing out in the hall in her nightie with the curls still in her silvery hair.

            “Go back to sleep, Mom,” Betty told her. “I’ll see who it is.”

            She cleansed her tear-drenched face on the way downstairs, not wanting whoever it was to see that she had been crying. It was the whole reason she refused to wear makeup at the time—the ruined mascara would make her look like a hobo clown.

            Opening the door, she received quite the surprise.

            “BOBBY!!!” He joyfully cried out, completely forgetting about her parents sleeping upstairs.

            Sure enough, Bobby Wright was standing there at her doorstep, along with another person—the girl who was in the diner that morning…the girl in the polka dot dress. Betty was more focused on Bobby than on the girl. She showered the love of her life with hugs and kisses all over his haggard face. It was a happy reunion—something straight out of a romance film. She imagined how much she and Bobby resembled Donna Reed and Jimmy Stewart in that tender moment.

            “What happened to you?!” she asked once she was finished hugging and kissing him.

            “Baby, you don’t even wanna know,” Bobby wearily answered.

            Accepting his answer, Betty finally acknowledged the polka-dotted girl’s presence. The girl kept herself at the doorstep, refusing to step inside for some odd reason. Betty hardly even noticed the disdain on her face as she graciously told her, “Thank you so much for finding my Bobby!”

            “It’s the least I could do after you tried to rat my friend and me out to the police,” the girl coldly responded.

            Bobby scowled at the girl, whose name he learned to be ‘Starla’. “What’re you talking about?”

            Betty couldn’t hide her shame. “I was scared for Bobby,” she admitted. “To be fair, you two did appear very suspicious—especially that colored friend of yours.” Her shame rapidly dissipated into condescension as she continued, “A reporter who’s a woman and a negro?” She scoffed at the notion. “Unbelievable.”

            Starla could no longer restrain her anger. “If it wasn’t for that ‘negro,’ your Bobby would still be sitting aboard a UFO with his ass probed!”

            Betty frowned in disgust. “What?!”

            “Don’t listen to her, sweetheart,” Bobby diverted. He then glared at Starla and demanded with a stern voice, “Get outta here, girl. And don’t even think about telling a soul about what happened to me.”

            Starla scoffed. “No worries. No one would believe it. Right, Betty?”

            She gave Betty a sour look that made Betty turn away almost immediately. She then left in a huff, grateful that she helped reunite the two lovers…but sickened by the aftermath.