Watching and waiting, the Malthusian visitors from the Moon orbit the planet. Their mission: Conquer Earth. Of course, that’s the easy part…
Malthusians are hopeless meddlers. They want to know what you’re doing all the time. And the less it is their business, the more they want to know.
Captain Rollhagen watched his friend Kenneth Kern as he wrote on a clipboard. A half-smile was on his face.
“Kern, I have the feeling you’re hiding something.”
“How’s that, Captain?”
“I think you are withholding embarrassing information.”
Embarrassing information? Don’t we all?
“I’ve always been perfectly forthcoming,” said Kern.
They sat on the bridge. The captain continued to smile. You wanted to slap him. “How about your trip to Earth? Leaving something out?”
“What’s to tell? I got the money and came back.”
“You didn’t smoke, did you?”
“Of course not!” Of all vices, smoking was held to be the most contemptible.
Kern had smoked like a chimney. To keep it off the books, he even stole cigars. Quite a come-down for a man who carried half a billion in his briefcase.
“How about the ol’ booze, Kenneth?” The captain wasn’t done.
“I had to have a glass of wine,” Kern said. “I was in character.”
“You were a character all right.”
The crew still laughed over pictures of Kern next to his anti-gravity pod. He wore a black pinstripe suit with a red kerchief. And a white carnation.
“Eat any meat?” the captain added.
Moon-folk are strict vegetarians. The whole time on Earth Kern had consumed steaks, chops, and hamburgers. He was forced to eat in restaurants. What was he supposed to order?
The captain leaned forward. “How about women?” This was what he was really after. An eyebrow arched in oily insinuation. “Still in touch with Ms. Flowers?”
“Sylvia is none of your business!”
“Oh, it’s Sylvia, now?
“I won’t have this, Captain. She’s a very nice woman.”
“I’ll say. Va-va-va-voom.”
Kern put down the clipboard. “Okay. There’s much to tell. But I’m uncomfortable in such a formal setting. Say we meet down at the hangar. I’ll tell you everything.”
“The hangar?” said Rollhagen.
“And I’ll need to loosen up. I brought back a bottle of scotch, a few cigars. Care to join me?”
“Would I!” The captain exclaimed, then toned down his enthusiasm. “I guess, Mr. Kern. If it makes you more comfortable.”
It did. Kern learned long ago to bring others in on any mischief you may have planned. After all, they’re not turning themselves in.
Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Classic flyover land. Which makes us feel just a little… superior. He publishes a weekly column of essays on the writing life at richarddonnelly.substack.com