“Hey, Lady, we’re out of milk again”
“Yo, the TV is out”
“Ma’am, I can’t find the pillows”
Goddamn it! I was an old woman, and these goddamn aliens were never going to leave. In her 243 years living on this Earth, there was nothing, nothing more infuriating than the last couple of months, living with these GODDAMN ALIENS. The interplanetary war could go screw off, as Nixon CCCLVI mandated, she was to house these soldiers. It seemed Galaxa 3B seemed to have taught their soldiers no manners.
Just the thought of the goddamn soldiers with their muddy feet on her prized coffee table made her already old and weary ears steam. Her head a kettlepot of pure, unfiltered rage. Of course, the green goddamn 3 eyed psychopaths who made their homes quartered in her house were a problem. She couldn’t do anything, anything about it. They were heroes, huh, heroes who DRANK MILK OUT OF THE GODDAMN FRIDGE, there were goddamn cups for a reason. She was shot out of her thoughts as the cry came again.
“Lady, the milk is OUT!”
“MAYBE TRY DRINKING IT LIKE A NORMAL GODDAMN PERSON THEN”
“SEE THAT’S A LITTLE DIFFICULT WHEN I’M NOT A GODDAMN PERSON ISN’T IT?
“Well played, you bungling idiot, go buy some milk to drink then”
“Money?”
“Was that a question?”
“As per the quartering act, you are supposed to provide us with the necess-”
“Do you want a bullet in your brain or $10?”
“I would prefer the money”
“Of course you would, I’m begging you, please drink the milk from a glass”
“Yes, I hear you loud and clear, drink from the gallon, specifically sticking my proboscis into the bottle”
As steam almost literally erupted out of the woman’s ears, she resolved, if at all possible, she would give Nixon a piece of her mind. She sighed dreamily, thinking of acquainting his facial features with a brick. Her dreams seemed to be a cesspool of hate as of recently, and she never did get a nice night’s rest unless one of her three, forceful tenants were burning in the hellscape that was her imagination. As she’s shot, once again, out of her thoughts, he huffs. I’m an old woman, why the hell do I have to care to the whims of these absolute imbeciles?
“THE TV IS OUT AGAIN”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT?”
“FIX IT”
“YOU CAN GO SUCK A GODDAMN THORAX”
“Woah, that’s very rude”
“RUDE? RUDE? YOU’RE IN MY GODDAMN HOUSE, WORKING A 243 YEAR OLD WOMAN TO THE BONE”
“I’m actually 533”
“YOUR PLANET ORBITS YOUR SUN ONCE EVERY 20 EARTH DAYS”
“That’s a really ageist remark”
“AGEIST?”
“Yes, I think you’re discriminating against me”
“YOU GODDAMN GENERATION XAE-B’ers ARE SO GODDAMN LAZY IT-”
“Rich coming from someone of generation XAE-A”
“HOW DARE YOU?”
“FIX THE TV”
“FIX IT YOURSELF GODDAMN IT”
“Actually, the quartering act mandates you are supposed to make sure our needs are c-”
“THE NEXT PERSON WHO QUOTES THE QUARTERING ACT TO ME IS GONNA GET SHOT”
“Shooting a guest would be quite rude”
Shooting will be the least of your worries you goddamn worthless piece of s-
“You know I can hear your thoughts right?”
“I was counting on it, you worthless piece of”
“Could you just fix the-”
“Fine, if you leave me alone for the rest of the day”
As she fixes the TV, she thinks of all the horrible things her dreams would bring. The goddamn soldiers were so, so, so GODDAMN infuriating. What the hell was Nixon thinking? These creatures couldn’t even spend an hour without breaking something or causing a ruckus. The Quartering Act, why the hell did they call it that? She reminisced about her history textbooks back in the day, before the first and second interplanetary war, there were wars that humans fought on Earth. The Am eric ahn Independence war. The British soldiers were quartered in the American houses. As mandated by the government. What I wouldn’t give to open up a can of Independence whoop-ass on these goddamn-
“You are not allowed to attack us Ma’am, could you get me a blanket?”
“You shouldn’t be allowed to be in my house like this”
“By law, I am a-”
“I will get you your blanket and take a nap, if ANY OF YOU IN THIS HOUSE BOTHERS ME, BE PREPARED TO EAT LEAD”
“U-”
“I don’t want to hear a goddamn word out of you”
He must have thought better than to argue, I’m forgetting something. Oh CRAP!
“AND NONE OF YOU TOUCH MY COFFEE TABLE!”
Satisfied, she slowly pads her way to her room, ready to take her long awaited nap. As the room filled with the smell of lavender and the melatonin producers started pumping the room with the hormone with a peaceful scent. She drifted into a restful nap. Nice, peaceful dreams of carnage and green blood stained rooms pulled her into herself. She slept like a baby, for the next 15 minutes. As soon as she started getting comfortable, the door crashed downstairs, the one with the milk was back. She dozed off again and was about to turn over in her sleep when she suddenly found herself on her floor.
“THE WHOLE GODDAMN HOUSE IS CONSPIRING AGAINST ME I TELL YOU”
Suddenly, as she hears the sound of glass breaking, she grabs her handgun and runs downstairs, someone was going to be dead by the end of the hour. She sees a familiar sight at the foot of her staircase, a sight that usually meant yelling and screaming, but now, put her into a murderous rage. The MILK DRINKER had his MUDDY GODDAMN BOOTS ON HER COFFEE TABLE.
“Oh did you have a good nap?”
“FUCK, YOU- YOU- YOU GODDAMN- I- I- I CAN’T EVEN FORM WORDS”
“Hello to you too” He says with a smile.
She raises her gun, points it at his head and pulls the trigger before he could say anything else.
“HOLY SHIT! THAT GODDAMN HURT”
In her murderous rage, she had forgotten that these aliens were impervious to bullets. She flipped him the bird and stalked off towards her bedroom.