Uffo

By pepsoid

Wed, 23 Oct 2013

2326 reads

8 comments

It looked like a fried egg. He wondered if it had inspired the shape of fried eggs. But then fried eggs would have had to have been designed. But who's to say they weren't? But then how do you explain unfried eggs?

It flew past. He had a bite of omelette. He drank some coffee.

He found it in his back yard. It wasn't as big as a fried egg. Which was surprising, as it had seemed bigger when it had flown past. He poked it with a stick.

"Hello?" he said, incongruously.

Nothing happened.

His toast was burning, so he went back inside.

He popped up the toast, applied butter, then jam on one piece, honey on the other. Two more slices popped up.

"Eh?"

He picked the slices up off the floor. One was in the shape of the letter 'U'. The other was in the shape of the letter 'F'.

"Uf," he said.

Two more slices popped up.

"Uh?"

Another 'F' and an 'O'...

"Uffo," he said. "Too many F's."

'N'... 'O'...

And then one on its own:

'!'...

He recieved a text:

TO: Jolquin

FROM: Uffo

MESSAGE: I am Uffo! Buy a 4-slice toaster.

"I would like a 4-slice toaster."

"Fill in a form, please."

"But I just want a 4-sli-"

The Argos cashier pointed to the middle of the shop, wherein were situated a bank of laminated catalogues and a single microscopic blue biro that had nearly run out.

"Can I borrow a pen please?" said Jolquin.

The Argos cashier rolled her eyes and reluctantly handed over another microscopic blue biro, from the stash she kept behind the till.

"Thank you."

The cashier's pen had completely run out, so he tossed it into one of the wicker waste paper baskets on the wicker waste paper basket display and commenced the filling in of the form with the pen that was 83 percent depleted.

"Too many choices!" he said, as he flicked through 23 pages of toasters. "I just want a simple-"

He got a text:

TO: Jolquin

FROM: Uffo

MESSAGE: 393-2418

He started to write the catalogue number '393-2418' on the order form, but when he was half way through writing '4', 83 percent became 100 percent.

"Excuse me," he said to the man beside him, who was flicking through pages of fitness equipment, pausing at ladies in lycra. "Have you got a pen?"

The man in question extracted his non-flicking hand from his pocket and proffered a chewed and slightly damp microscopic blue biro.

"Never mind, I'll ask the cashier," said Jolquin.

A... B... O... U...

T... F... L... I...

P... I... N... T...

I... M... E... !...

"There's two P's in 'FLIPPIN'."

S... E... R... I...

O... U... S... L...

Y... ?... !... !...

He hadn't mentioned the missing 'G', presuming Uffo was being colloquial.

"Anyway," said Jolquin; "have you ever tried buying anything from Argos?"

H... O... W... D...

Y... U... T... H...

I... N... K... I...

K... N... E... W...

C... A... T... N...

O... 4... T... O...

S... T... A... ?...

"'Cat no 4 tosta'?"

He got a text:

TO: Jolquin

FROM: Uffo

MESSAGE: Catalogue number for toaster! :-/

"Hang on a minute..." said Jolquin.

W... O... T... ?...

"If," said Jolquin; "you can send a text, what's with the Communication by Toast?"

Nothing happened for 20 seconds, then...

D... I... D... N...

T... T... H... I...

N... K... O... F...

T... H... A... T...

"You owe me £24.99."

The spoken/text conversation that followed proceeded thus:

JOLQUIN: So I was wondering... did your spaceship inspire the shape of a fried egg?

UFFO: What kind of a ridiculous question is that?

JOLQUIN: But did it?

UFFO: Actually I don't know, I'll have to ask my boss.

JOLQUIN: Okay, thanks.

UFFO: So...?

JOLQUIN: So what?

UFFO: So here I am, a visitor from another world, and all you can think to ask is whether my spaceship inspired the shape of a fried egg...?

JOLQUIN: Um...

UFFO: Oh I give up.

JOLQUIN: Hang on, Mr Alien Entity, you haven't exactly proved yourself in the intelligence stakes!

UFFO: What do you mean?

JOLQUIN: "Buy a 4-slice toaster"?

UFFO: Easy mistake to make.

JOLQUIN: If you're name's Uffo.

UFFO: No need to get personal!

They chatted long into the night.

The first contact between human and the race that came to be known as Friedeggilus was unremarked upon and unremarkable. Jolquin Spangler did not go down in the annals or the history books or anything like that, but there were a few raised eyebrows from the folks at the top secret Public Surveillance Agency who monitored the texts of everyone who owned a mobile phone. Nothing was followed up, however, as it was generally accepted that there are a right load of idiots out there.

Certificate PG

Story

Aliens and other Strange Creatures

Science fiction

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