Note: Today is our next installment of Aliens Abducting Annoying Assholes Anonymous, in which readers send me stories about annoying people they know, and I write a short story of flash fiction in which the annoying person gets abducted by aliens. Next up is an anonymously submitted tale about some construction workers who can’t be fired…by a human.
Instructions for submitting your own annoying asshole for consideration are at the end of this post.
The Monument Makers
“I don’t understand why this isn’t done already.” Chuck waved his arm around the construction site, past the half-poured foundation and the stacks of two-by-fours just waiting to be used.
“I don’t either.” Will sat down on the nearest pile of two-by-fours and took off his hard hat. “As I’ve mentioned before, Bubba Bob and Jimmy Bob and Billy Bob don’t have a good track record of getting things done. I’ve tried everything I can to motivate them, but I end up doing all the work myself. And this is as much as I could get done in the last eight hours.”
“Well, you’ve just got to work faster.” Chuck slapped his hand on the side of his pickup truck. “And get those three to help you.”
Will blinked. No matter how many times he explained the problem, Chuck never seemed to get it. “How? You won’t let me fire them, so I can’t threaten them with that. They sit around all day either on their phones or shooting the shit with each other. The only solution is to fire them. Building this site is not a one-person job, okay?”
Chuck shook his head. “I told you, we can’t fire them. Bubba Bob and Jimmy Bob are my wife’s brothers, and Billy Bob is her cousin. If I fire them, I won’t be able to go home.”
“Then why don’t you help me build this place?” Will waved at the single wall of frames that had been put up—by him alone. “Once it’s done you’ll have somewhere to sleep.”
Chuck did not look amused. “Why don’t you do your job and act like a real project manager? Manage the people, manage the project, Will. That’s your job, not mine. Now I want this thing done on the original schedule. Remember, I can fire you.”
Lucky me, Will thought as Chuck got back in his pickup and drove off in a cloud of dust.
“Guys, come on,” he yelled in the general direction of the middle-name-Bobs, as he thought of them. “Lunch break is over. We need to get back to work.”
“Yeah, in a minute.” Bubba Bob waved dismissively at him, then turned back to the other two and said something Will couldn’t hear. They all dissolved into laughter, Bubba Bob’s beer belly jiggling as he guffawed at whatever brilliant joke he’d just told.
Will trudged back over to the nearest pile of two-by-fours and picked one up. Might as well go back to working on the frame himself.
As he turned back toward the foundation, he blinked in surprise. There was another cloud of dust, which was odd, because he hadn’t heard another vehicle pull up.
This time, when the dust settled, he realized why—it wasn’t a vehicle, at least not one he’d ever seen on the road before. Instead, a saucer-shaped object floated about six feet above the ground.
Will dropped the two-by-four and rubbed his eyes, hoping the whole thing was some sort of stress-induced mirage. He turned and looked over his shoulder at the middle-name-Bobs, but they were still laughing and looking in the other direction, toward the highway. None of them looked over at Will or the apparent visitor to the site.
He turned back around and stared at the saucer. What looked like a trap door popped open, and a plank about three feet wide extended and lowered to the ground. Out walked a little gray alien, just like he’d seen in all those movies and TV shows. It had big, black eyes, a pinched-looking ridge that might have been a nose, and a small, round mouth.
“Hello,” it said. “I am Grog, and my translator allows me to speak your language.”
“Hello, uh, Grog.” Will rubbed his head. Maybe he was unconscious and dreaming this. Could a two-by-four have fallen on his head or something? It wasn’t like the middle-name-Bobs would have noticed or cared.
“We mean you no harm,” Grog said. “My people have decided this is the best place to build our new capital on your world.”
“Uh…right on top of our new apartment complex?”
Grog looked at the single wall frame. “That can be corrected. We need lots of space to spread out.”
“Um, have you, like, consulted our government? I think they may have some rules about illegal immigration.” Maybe he should have voted for that moron who wanted to build the wall after all. Then again, what good would a wall do when these people had spaceships? They could fly right over it.
“Our studies of your planet show none of your governments can outmatch us in weapons and technology,” Grog said. “Your leaders are consulting with the U.N. now, but their attempts to shoot down our ships have all failed. Our shields protect us.
“Now, we’re going to need your best construction team to build our new capital. We will provide the virtually indestructible materials, but your team must build it. We don’t have time.”
A light bulb went off in Will’s head. “Of course. Well, those three guys—” he pointed at the middle-name-Bobs. “—are the best people on my team. I hate to lose them, but I realize the important of building your capital. Also, there’s my boss, Chuck. I’ll give him a call. He really needs to be here to supervise your project.”
“Thank you.” Grog twisted its lips into what might have been a smile. “I think we’re going to like this planet.”
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Will pulled out his cell phone and found Chuck’s number. “Just as soon as you get your capital built. Say, could I have a look around your spaceship while my team over there gets started?”
All you have to do is share this post (here on my blog or on social media when I share it) and I will write you a piece of flash fiction about aliens abducting the annoying asshole of your choice. You do not have to publicly explain who you want as an abductee in a story or why they’re an asshole and need to be abducted by aliens. You can PM me or use the contact form here:
V. R. Craft is the author of Stupid Humans, the first in a #scifi series that asks the question, “What if all the intelligent humans ran away from Earth—and we’re what’s left?”