An Intergalactic Escapade at Jerry's Bowl-o-Drome

The knock I heard upon the door

was loud, but kind of squishy;

it hadn't rained in weeks,

so I suspected something fishy.

I saw nothing through the peephole,

and I almost said forget it.

But a knock's a knock, squishy or not,

just please, I thought, don't let it

be the neighbor's kids, pulling a prank,

or someone wanting money,

'cause I wasn't feeling generous

and the neighbor's kids aren't funny.

So I steeled my nerves and opened it,

and found, to my surprise,

a little soggy sort of person

with a pair of watery eyes.

It was small and slightly see-through

and stood only to my waist

and did not have many features

on what seemed to be its face.

When it saw me, it stood taller–

if you'd call what it did "stand"–

and extended an appendage

with what might have been a hand.

"Greetings!" said a voice,

a bit like gurgling in a drain,

"I am welcome to your planet,

new arrived, and want to gain

appreciation for your species

and what happens where you live!

So, if maybe you are freely

to be guide of tour and give

a tasty smallness of your culture

and what happens here on Earth,

so report I can in detail

what this part of space is worth."

When it finished, I just stood there,

staring, jaw hung open wide,

wondering if I should just close the door

or let it come inside.

But it didn't seem to notice

the extended awkward pause–

it just stood with something like a smile

between its open jaws.

We stared back at each other

and it gave some watery blinks,

as its words began to register

and gave me cause to think.

What on Earth (I chuckled inwardly)

brought this thing to my door?

Culture and appreciation?

Was that all it was here for?

"Pardon me," I finally managed,

"You have caught me quite off guard.

I'd be happy to oblige you–

we can talk in my backyard."

So I led it 'round the house,

so neighbors wouldn't hear our voices–

my guest followed close behind me

making lots of squishy noises.

I offered up a seat,

to rest its legs, if it had got 'em,

but it quietly demurred,

having neither knees nor bottom.

"So, you're here for work or pleasure?

And you'd like to see our planet?"

"Both, I hopes!" it said excitedly,

"But depends most how we plan it."

"Well, let's see," I said, considering

what would please this person most–

A hike up in the mountains,

or a drive along the coast?

I suggested these activities;

my guest seemed unenthused.

"Many macros am I journeyed–

much are my back membranes bruised!

Tell myself–are not there things for doing

nearer from your dwelling?

Maybe something we could find

requiring very small traveling?"

So I made recommendations

that were nearer to my home,

and it finally agreed to go

to Jerry's Bowl-o-Drome.

I'll admit, I wasn't certain

this was quite the demonstration

of the greatest thing on Earth,

or indeed, throughout the nation.

But my visitor seemed most concerned

with maximized convenience,

and since Jerry's was just down the street,

it won by easy distance.

"So, where you from again?" I asked

as we strolled down the block.

(Well, I strolled while my guest

kind of oozed–you couldn't say it walked.)

"Kalaahkta-Rah," it said with pride,

"bright jewel of Sector G!

Orbit of Kepler-22,

and moons we number three!"

I made appraising sounds

to demonstrate how much I cared,

though in truth I was just noticing

how much the people stared

from the windows of each house we passed

and each car that drove near

as if mushy squishy blobby folk

were something new 'round here.

My visitor finally told me

that it's name's pronunciation

required seven liquid mandibles

for correct enunciation.

But, considering we were friends now,

and were hanging out together,

I could simply call it

Osselottomallekkifullevver,

which was an affectionate term used

by its matriarchal port,

but if that seemed too familiar

I could call it Tim, for short.

We finally reached the Bowl-o-Drome

and found an empty lane,

I got some shoes for me

but took some more time to explain

that my partner wouldn't mar the wood

with shoes worn off the street,

but he wouldn't rent some either,

having brought no socks or feet.

When we finally got it sorted

and set out to find a ball,

I just couldn't help but wonder

if we should have come at all.

Tim's soft body had no fingers

that would fit bowling ball holes,

though it quickly demonstrated

quite impressive ball control.

By absorbing the entire ball

into its watery mass

it could launch it like a cannon

very straight, and very fast.

All ten pins fairly exploded

and the broken shards went flying.

"Whoa-ho!" Tim cried, "Did see

you that? Even I was not trying!"

It swaggered in a sloshy way

oozing with satisfaction.

In fact, oozing in every way

with squelchy, oozing action.

We played five games, and every time

it proved itself the winner.

I really had to question

whether Tim was a beginner.

Eventually, our time was up

we had to call it quits.

Besides, we'd near run out of pins;

they'd all been blown to bits.

Outside, Tim made a blubbery noise

that sounded like a sigh,

"Good timely havings, Earthling,

now it time, think, say good-bye."

Then the air above us shimmered,

and a ship sank through the clouds.

It was bright and irridescent

and uncomfortably loud.

Tim turned to me officiously

and gave a stately bow.

"The Mother ship arrives,

afraid must I get leaving now.

Thanks you many, for to do this,

I have gratitude is showing;

longest has it been the time

since such good games has I for bowling."

Then it gave me two wet thumbs up

and a little soggy wink,

gave off a little puff of steam

and vanished in a blink.

The giant ship just hovered there,

then gave a little click,

and disappeared, and there I stood,

feeling like I'd been tricked.