You Can't Have My Planet Page 2

  “Do you really think so?” Queen Mooby said, squeezing my hand.

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  They didn’t need to launch an attack. I’m sure my parents would give it to them to avoid an all out invasion.

  I was an ambassador, negotiating a peace treaty between us and extraterrestrials. Do they give out the Nobel Peace Prize to kids? If not, then they need to change the rules.

  “That certainly is very kind of you,” said the queen.

  “I’m happy to do it,” I said.

  “Where are your parents?” asked Jerry.

  “Malaysia. My mom and dad are venture capitalists. That’s another name for a big-time investor. They have their own company. Nimmer and Nimmer. They get written up in The Wall Street Journal all the time.”

  “How long will they be gone?” Jerry asked.

  “Three more weeks,” I said.

  Jerry leaned over and whispered something to the king.

  “Hey, Jerry,” I said. “Why weren’t you scared of me like the king and queen were?”

  “I’ve interacted with humans before. I sold a condo on Mars to an astronaut who wanted to get away from his wife. Boy, did I rip him off.” He patted me on the head. “Just kidding.”

  Another spaceship came zooming down to join the party, darting all around, searching for a place to land. With two spaceships already in the clearing, there wasn’t any room to park a third one. It hovered directly above us, making a deafening roar, its engine spewing hot air in our faces.

  An alien popped his green head out of the hatch, fixed three eyes on the king and yelled, “Where do you want me to park this thing?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” said the king, deeply offended. He straightened his crown. “Do I look like a valet to you?”

  “If you’re not a valet, then who is?”

  “They don’t have valet parking,” said the king, frowning at Jerry.

  I nudged Jerry and whispered excitedly, “Hey, Jerry, I’ll park his spaceship for him.”

  Jerry smiled up at the alien. “Of course we have valet parking.” He pointed proudly at me. “This is a first-class operation.”

  The alien eyed me suspiciously. He didn’t seem scared of me, just extremely unimpressed. “Are sure you he knows how to drive?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Jerry said. “Do you know how many video games this boy has played? He knows that star cruiser like the back of his hand. Don’t you, Giles?”

  “Um … of course I do. I could drive that thing blindfolded.”

  When you get a chance to drive a spaceship you don’t pass it up.

  The green guy peering down at us shut off the engine on his spaceship. Somehow it remained silently suspended in midair. A ramp slid out of its silver belly and he came trotting down, wearing special sunglasses for three eyes. “OK, kid,” he said, tossing me a gold key. “Don’t get any scratches on it.”

  I ran up the ramp and closed the hatch before he could change his mind. There I was, inside a spaceship. I stood there for a minute, paralyzed by the coolness of intergalactic technology. The gold key in my hand pulsed with light. I wondered why he gave it to me because there was no ignition to stick it in. There were at least one hundred buttons on the console. Not one of them read: START ENGINE. I was tempted to just start pressing buttons but I didn’t want to slam the thing in reverse by mistake and knock down a bunch of beautiful old pine trees. What if I accidentally vaporized a flock of swallows?

  Just as I was about to give up and go back outside I heard a voice. Well, I didn’t actually hear it. It was a voice in my head, a soundless whisper in the center of my brain.

  Welcome, Earthling. This is 2012 Star Cruiser. I am equipped with thought-activation technology. Just think where you want to go and I will take you there.

  Are you talking to me?

  Yes, Earthling. I’m talking to you.

  Wait, hold on a second. Are you saying that all I have to do is think about a place and you’ll park this baby over there?

  That is an accurate statement, Earthling.

  (Hey, reader, I’m not using quotation marks here because the computer and I weren’t actually talking out loud. No words came out of my mouth. Don’t start getting all confused. It’s very simple. When you read what sounds like dialogue but there are no quotation marks, then you know I’m talking to the spaceship. I know you can handle that, regardless of what grade you got in English last semester.)

  (Come on, dude. Don’t start freaking out. Here’s another way to look at it. The spaceship and I played a bizarre game of catch. It tossed a thought into my head. I Frisbeed a thought back.)

  OK, spaceship. Here’s what I want you to do. There’s another clearing over behind those oak trees. Go park over there.

  As you wish, Earthling.

  It flew over there and landed.

  Is there anything else I can do for you, Earthling?

  I kicked back in the driver’s seat, marveling at the gauges on the instrument panel, each one blinking and flickering.

  Does this thing have a HowmanytimeshaveIscratchedmybutt-ometer?

  No, Earthling. I am not equipped with a HowmanytimeshaveIscratchedmybutt-ometer.

  Then how am I supposed to keep track of how many times I scratched my butt?

  I have no idea, Earthling.

  Just kidding.

  Your species has an odd sense of humor.

  I’m a New Yorker.

  Well, that explains it.

  Do you have a stereo?

  Yes, I do.

  Crank that sucker!

  All of a sudden the music kicked in. It was louder than a rock concert. It was a rock concert. A hologram of an alien punk band flashed upon the dashboard. The lead singer had three heads. Two of them had Mohawks. The third head, which had a puffy purple afro, sang lead vocals while the other two heads sang backup.

  The lead guitarist was a cyborg. The bongos had arms and hands and played themselves.

  I listened to three songs then ran back over by Jerry and the others.

  “It’s about time,” Jerry said. “You’ve got two other star cruisers to park.”

  I didn’t know what they were all doing here but in the excitement it didn’t seem to matter.

  The next spaceship I climbed inside was older and more beat up than the first one I parked. Loose wires dangled from the dashboard. The cushion on the pilot’s seat had a rip in it. It scattered bits of fluff in the air when I plopped down on it.

  How’s it going, spaceship?

  The spaceship didn’t answer.

  There’s a cave on the other side of that stream up ahead. Go park over there.

  The star cruiser didn’t budge.

  I said, go park over by the cave.

  It didn’t move. It didn’t say anything to me either. No soundless whisper rang out in the center of my brain.

  Maybe the older model spaceships didn’t have thought-activation technology. Like a 1962 Chevy wouldn’t have a DVD player in the backseat.

  That meant I had to drive this thing with my own two hands. But how?

  Before I could press a button, something attacked me. It was slimy. It was howling. It was hurtling through the air. It knocked me to the ground, pinned me to the floor. I kicked and screamed but couldn’t fight it off.

  In the middle of my panic, something occurred to me. I wasn’t in any pain. How can you not be in any pain if something is eating your face? I guess it wasn’t chomping on my cheeks or gnawing on my nose. Instead it was … it was licking me! I was getting licked by an alien.

  This thing, whatever it was, liked me a lot. It was an alien creature with long whiskers and a cute wet black face that reminded me of a seal. Its body was cyborgish, made out of metal in a squat shape like an armadillo. If I had to give it a name I’d call it a sealadillo.

  Grabbing a stick off the floor, the creature dropped it in my lap and backed up excitedly, waiting for me to throw it, just like a dog would. It had a collar around i
ts neck. This thing was someone’s pet.

  I tossed the stick to the other side of the spaceship. The creature darted after it. On its way back, it dropped the stick and aimed its snout at a can of orange sardine-like things on a table. Sealadillo treats!

  I dangled a sardine in the air. “I’ll give you a treat if you fly this thing over by the cave.”

  He hopped in the copilot’s seat and jabbed some buttons with his snout.

  We took off.

  Don’t ever let anyone tell you sealadillos are stupid. They’re highly intelligent creatures. As soon as we landed, I tossed him the sardine. He gulped it down and bounded into my arms, tickling me with his whiskers. I heard Jerry calling my name in the distance. I gave the sealadillo a big hug and took off.

  The third star cruiser I parked was much smaller, about the size of an SUV. As soon as I climbed in, I heard someone say, in a real voice—not just a thought in my brain, but an actual grunting voice—

  “Make sure you don’t dent the fender.”

  I glanced around uneasily. “Who said that?”

  “I did.”

  I looked down. It was the key chain in my hand, a shrunken head key chain. It was alive, staring up at me. I dropped it and screamed.

  “That hurts,” it said, bouncing on the floor.

  I took a deep breath and picked it up. “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Having a normal conversation with a key chain isn’t easy. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “How do you like being a key chain?” I finally blurted.

  “It sucks. I mean having a shrunken head wasn’t exactly a goal of mine. When I was a kid, I didn’t go around saying when I grow up I want to be a key chain. How do you think my parents feel? They don’t exactly brag about it. Oh, your son’s a doctor? Well, my son’s a key chain.”

  “Who turned you into a key chain?” I said.

  “A wizard on Jupiter. He didn’t want me dating his daughter.” He lowered his voice. “You’re in big trouble, Earthling. I mean really big trouble.”

  “Hey, at least I’m not a key chain.”

  The shrunken head started crying.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean that.”

  I dug into my pocket and gave him half a Kleenex. A shrunken head doesn’t need a whole Kleenex. You’re wasting paper and that’s environmentally irresponsible.

  “What do you mean I’m in trouble?” I said.

  “The king and queen aren’t just looking for a home for themselves,” said the shrunken head. “They’re looking for a home for their entire population. We’re talking fifty million purple creatures walking around on Earth.”

  “A mass invasion,” I gasped.

  I couldn’t believe I actually thought of them as my purple buddies.

  “When are they going to attack?” I asked.

  “There won’t be an attack. They don’t need to. You humans are getting kicked off the planet. One morning you’ll wake up and you’ll all be gone.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “They’ll beam you off the planet while you’re fast asleep. You won’t even know what hit you.”

  “Can they do that?”

  “You’re darn right they can. I’m not talking about the king and queen either. There are higher-ups involved.”

  “Higher than a king and queen?” I said.

  “A lot higher. This thing goes all the way to the top.”

  “Where will they send us?”

  “To Desoleen,” he said.

  “Desoleen? What’s that?”

  “It’s a wasteland. I’d rather be a key chain than get sent there.”

  “But why?” I asked. “What did we do?”

  “They say you don’t take care of the planet. They say you’re lousy tenants. So they’re evicting you.”

  “We can’t get evicted,” I said. “We own our apartment in Manhattan. We don’t rent.”

  “Don’t you get it? This isn’t about your family. This is about your species. Your entire species is about to get evicted from planet Earth.”

  “No way. You can’t evict six billion people.”

  “That’s what you think,” said the shrunken head.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “If they’re out to get me, then why did that Jerry guy save me from a snake?”

  “It wasn’t a real snake. He planted it there so he could gain your trust. It’s all a put-on. He’s trying to sell Earth so he can get rich.”

  I gritted my teeth. “That weasel. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with!”

  I left the key chain in the spaceship and snuck back over by Jerry, who was talking to the king and queen. I ducked behind a tree, spying on their conversation.

  “I say we grab Earth before someone else does,” said Queen Mooby.

  “Your wife is a very intelligent woman, King Zoodle,” said Jerry.

  “But Earth only has one moon,” the king complained.

  “So?” said Jerry.

  “There’s nothing I hate more than looking up at the sky and seeing one lousy moon,” moaned the king.

  Although I remained silent, I felt like yelling, “Hey, dude, don’t go dissing the moon. It’s perfect.”

  As a poet, I felt obligated to defend the moon. We poets worship it.

  “If you can’t deal with one moon, then what are we going to do?” asked the queen.

  “Why do we have to move?” asked the king. “Why can’t we just stay where we are?”

  “Well, Your Excellency,” said Jerry, “I guess it has something to do with the fact that you’ve run out of water on your planet and are about to run out of oxygen and your subjects are about to storm the palace and drag you through the streets.”

  “Fine,” said King Zoodle. “We’ll take it.”

  “Excellent.” Jerry whipped out a contract and handed the king a pen. “Sign here.”

  King Mooby signed.

  Jerry beckoned the green alien with three eyes and the others who were wandering around the forest, taking samples of the soil and measuring the width of the trees.

  “We have a buyer,” Jerry told them.

  “Hey,” hissed the three-eyed creature, “I didn’t even get a chance to make an offer.”

  “Neither did I,” howled another alien.

  “That’s right,” Jerry said. “I’ve run credit checks on all of you. The king is the only one who can actually afford this place.”

  I crawled out of the bush. “What’s going on?”

  Jerry hid the contract behind his back. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing at all,” said the king.

  “Don’t you think it’s time you told him?” said the queen.

  “Told me what?” I said. “That we’re getting evicted?”

  At first Jerry was shocked that I knew. Then he seemed delighted. “That’s right. You humans are getting evicted. They’re sending you to Desoleen. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “Wait till the marines find out. They’ve got smart bombs.”

  “What’s a smart bomb?” asked the three-eyed alien.

  “A smart bomb can fly across the Atlantic in a minute and a half, wipe out four different targets, then fly back across the ocean, pick up a pepperoni pizza, drop it off at your house and wipe out four more targets. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Jerry said, strutting back and forth. “Where can I get one?”

  “At the Pentagon,” I said.

  “Do they have a drive-thru?” Jerry asked.

  “Doesn’t everyone?” said King Zoodle, chuckling.

  They all burst out laughing, except Queen Mooby.

  She gently put her hand on my shoulder. “I feel sorry for the child. No one deserves to be sent to Desoleen.”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” I said. “You can’t do this to the human race. There are billions of us.”

  “I’m afraid you d
on’t have a choice,” said the queen.

  “She’s right,” said Jerry. “Here. See for yourself.” Reaching into his jacket, he handed me an ancient scroll. “Here’s a copy of the lease. You have violated the agreement. Now you must suffer the penalty.”

  They plunged into the woods to go find their spaceships.

  “Come on, King Zoodle,” Jerry murmured from the shadows. “Let’s get out of here. The humans will be gone in a couple of days. Then you can move in.”

  I unrolled the scroll and stared at it, dumbfounded. It was covered with symbols that were indecipherable. There were two signatures at the bottom: Adam and Eve.

  Holding the gold parchment in my hands, I watched the spaceships rise up, one by one, and disappear into the sky.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  GRANDMA STOOD ON THE EDGE of the driveway, calling frantically, “Giles! Giles!”

  “Here I am, Grandma.” I ran into her arms.

  Stressing out Grandma was not something I wanted to do.

  She pressed me to her chest. “I’ve been searching all over for you.”

  “Don’t worry, Grandma,” I said. “I’ll go pack right now. We won’t miss the train.”

  “Don’t forget to put on a sweater.”

  “But, Grandma,” I said. “It’s ninety degrees out.”

  “Not on the train it isn’t. You’ll catch pneumonia in that air-conditioning.”

  Should I tell her about the aliens? No, it might give her a heart attack. She was already in rough shape. She looked pale, thin and sickly. She started wasting away six months ago, right after Grandpa died. They were married fifty-three years.

  Grandma lost her soul mate. When you lose your soul mate, life is bad enough. The last thing you need to hear about is aliens.

  “I’ll put on a really thick sweater, Grandma,” I said, sprinting up the driveway.

  I stopped, panting, sweating, trying to formulate a strategy. An alien takeover. This crisis was too big for the police or the fire department. I had to go directly to the president. No problem. I’ll just call the Oval Office and tell his secretary it’s me, Giles. I’m sure she’ll put me right through. Even if he’s in a meeting with a prime minister, she’ll interrupt it because I’m a top priority.

  “Excuse me, Mr. President,” she’ll say, “I’ve got Giles on the line.”