Poppin' Poppers

Robert Joseph McFarland III, or, as his friends called him, Bubba-Joe, strolled on out of the movie theater as if he were responsible for putting it up in the first place. His friend, Bubba-Ray, whose mama had actually named him that, spoke up. “Damn, Bubba-Joe, that there’s one a the scariest damn movies I ever saw!”

Bubba-Joe shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Don’t make me laugh, Bubba-Ray. I weren’t scared and neither were you. Them ‘aliens’ is just midgets in rubber suits.”

Bubba-Ray spat skeptically. “That may be, Bubba-Joe, but don’cha know they got probes?”

Bubba-Joe rolled his eyes. “They’re midgets in crappy costumes, Bubba-Ray. Just kick ’em in the balls and move on, nothin’ to it.”

“You won’t be sayin’ that when they stick a probe up your—”

Bubba-Joe flicked a kernel at him. “Shut up, Bubba-Ray! Don’t nobody wanna hear that nastiness!”

Bubba-Ray huffed a sigh, but stayed obediently silent. For a while they walked down the cracked old sidewalk, the only sound Bubba-Joe’s chewing. “Y’know Bubba-Joe,” Bubba-Ray piped up, “You ain’t shared none a that popcorn since we got to the theater. I’m hungry, too, y’know.”

“You want some popcorn?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Here, then.” Bubba-Joe handed Bubba-Ray the bucket. Bubba-Ray reached in eagerly. His hand came back empty.

Bubba-Ray scowled and threw the bucket over his shoulder while Bubba-Joe cackled evilly. “It ain’t funny, you sonofabitch. Ain’t funny at all.”

“Not from where I’m a-standin’, Bubba-Ray! Your face was…” He trailed off. Mouth gaping, he stared up at the sky, eyes wide with horror. “What in Hell…? Bubba-Ray, you seein’ what I’m seein’?”

Bubba-Ray’s jaw dropped. “Uh-huh.” There was an explosion, a flash of blinding light, and then everything was dark…

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Bubba-Joe’s eyes blinked open. Everything was blurred beyond recognition, but he could tell that wherever he was, it certainly wasn’t the Flix movie theater. He was also naked and covered in something… sticky. He tried to sit up and groaned when his head nearly split in two from the pain. Sweet baby Jesus on a toaster, how much did I drink last night?! Then it all came rushing back, the argument, the popcorn, the UFOs, and at that moment, Robert Joseph McFarland III was on the verge of crying for his mama.

Head hurting less, he sat up and looked around. He was in a round room, sort of yellowy-looking. The walls were crinkly and allowed light in, like paper, but he couldn’t rip them.

It was when he tried to stand that he realized who was in the room with him. At least a hundred other naked, greasy people, all unconscious and piled up on top of one another like sacks of flour. Bubba-Joe noticed that he was dripping with some greasy, shiny substance, and swiped some up with his finger and popped it into his mouth without a second thought. He gasped when he realized what it was. No. It ain’t possible! It tasted like butter. No, it was butter; melted butter. He had just been abducted by aliens, and now he was stuck in a giant paper bag with a bunch of naked people covered in butter! 

A loud noise caught his attention. It sounded like some sort of garbled alien speak, the kind you hear in movies or on the tee-vee, and it was deafening. Jus’ little midgets in rubber suits, jus’ midgets, jus’ midgets— OHGODOHGODOHGODWHAT’SHAPPENING?! Bubba-Joe’s fervent  train of thought flew off the tracks into full-out hysteria as the giant, buttery, naked-people-filled paper bag started to rise up into the air. He staggered around before stumbling over an unconscious Bubba-Ray and landing flat on his buttery ass. Everything went dark, and there was a loud slam and a few ear-shattering beeping noises that sent Bubba-Joe reeling. The lights cut back on again, only this time they were much brighter. A deafening hum like a hive full of bees began to echo throughout the paper chamber. That was when the pain started.

It was a raw, red-hot pain that seared him from the inside out. The butter on his skin started to sizzle, until he and all the other occupants of the paper room were writhing in agony. The chamber filled with the tormented shrieks of Bubba-Joe and his helpless comrades. Bubba-Joe screamed, he screamed and screamed and screamed until he couldn’t scream anymore, his skin began to turn white and crack and puff up like… like… a terrible thought dawned on Bubba-Joe, even through his agony. “NO!” He howled. “NOOOOOOO!!!!!!” Coulda been worse, Bubba-Joe though vaguely, Coulda been probed. That was his last thought before he, mercifully, blacked out.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Rubok Gerplert McZargland III, or, as his friends liked to call him, Rubo-Gerp, strolled on out of the Projection Center as if he were responsible for putting it up in the first place. His friend, Rubo-Gnar, whose  XX Unit had actually named him that, spoke up. “My goodness, Rubo-Gerp, that was quite possibly one of the most terrifying astral-projections I’ve ever had!”

Rubo-Gerp shoved a tentacle full of combusted earthling into his first mouth. “Do not make me laugh, Rubo-Gnar. I was not fearful, and neither were you. Those ‘astro-naughts’ are simply little men in Kevlar suits.”

Rubo-Gnar expectorated skeptically. “Be that as it may, Rubo-Gerp, are you not aware that they are in possession of inter-cloacan devices?”

Rubo-Gerp rolled his eyes. “They are Achondroplastic individuals in poorly made attire! Simply puncture their testicles and move along, there is nothing to it!”

“You will not say such things when one of them inserts an inter-cloacan device into your—”

Rubo-Gerp flicked the hardened pellet that had been Robert Joseph McFarland III at him. “Cease your incessant jabbering! There is no need for such profanity!”

Rubo-Gnar huffed a sigh, but stayed obediently silent. For a while they slithered down the chrome-plated walkway, the only sound Rubo-Gerp’s chewing. “You are aware, Rubo-Gerp,” Rubo-Gnar piped up, “I have not received any of that combusted earthling since we entered the Projection Center…”

FIN.