Explain that to a Martian 2

Copyright Gary Weston 2012

Smashwords Edition

Explain that to a Martian 2

I have a cat. No, not really. My girlfriend has a cat; it just lets me, mortgage payer, share my place with them. Isn't that sweet of it? We'll come back to that later. The sound I just heard runs through my badly damaged brain and a strange tingling sensation permeates my body through a blood alcohol level beyond anything medical science has yet been able to register on a human still living,. The rest of me isn't feeling too flash, either.

It's a hissing sound. Not unfamiliar, but, here in my bedroom with a girlfriend of a few weeks, making me wonder, is that her snoring?

Nothing snores like that. Not even a pro-wrestler, after smashing his or her opponent into the canvas, smothering his or her face with his or her steroid infused crotch, and smacking them over the head with their elbows for good measure, could come close enough to expelling such noise and such unpleasant breath that I could smell right then.

Not my girlfriend, then. I opened the other eye and immediately wished I hadn't. Because my eyes saw other eyes. Four of them to be precise. Not two heads with two eyes each you understand, but one, (and I use this word loosely), head with four independently moving eyes, kinda like golf-balls somebody had doodled a sickly yellow green iris on with indelible ink. Each eye was on a stalk, that allowed the owner to look in completely different directions at once. I was about to scream the roof off, but instead, I said, 'Hi, Joe.'

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