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By Christopher T. Dabrowski.
translated by: Julia Mraczny
FRANK AND JOSH stood in the field, smoking cigarettes.
—Look, a flying saucer!—Josh pointed to something bright, zigzagging rapidly across the sky.
—Phew—Frank shrugged.—I have something like that at home. My wife is mad.
But Josh was gone. He fled to the cottage.
Still, saucers are better than getting hit with a pan, he thought, inhaling his beloved smoke.
Moments later, the UFO hovered above him.
Frank tossed the cigarette butt, pulled out his phone, and sat up to see the UFO behind.
—I'll take a selfie with you.
The UFO took a photo and flew away.
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