Dorf Deported After Altercations With Serr-Vo and The Mechanical Fellow

Ron Gutterston,
Times Correspondent

Springtime is here and it is lovely. These last few days, I’ve made a point to enjoy the outdoors, the sunlight, and the smells of freshly exposed grass.

On Sunday I walked to Puffer’s pond. While in the area, I stopped at my good pal Charlie’s home. He happened to be watering his lawn with a dinner cup, so I struck up a conversation with him. He was ecstatic because his best friend, Dorf, a foolish but lovable alien from planet Nebulönis, had returned from having gone missing for so very long.

He explained, “It was such a hard time here all alone and knowing how foolish he can be out there without anyone to take care of him. I couldn’t stop worrying the whole time. I’m so happy now though, with him back. I’m so happy.”

We walked in and out of his house as he filled up his watering cup many times, pouring it in a different place on the grass each time. We talked and talked and talked.

I offered to take a cup myself to speed up the process, but he told me, “No thank you, it is better this way.”

A while later, many trips later, Charlie stopped and whistled. A squawk sounded from a nearby tree. Charlie whistled the same melody he had the first time. Then, right then and there, Dorf emerged from the tree trunk, phasing through solid wood from within! He wore that same old goofy smile on his beak, and he had those same old energetic clumsy tentacles. I couldn’t help but run up to him as he hovered towards me. He made the most endearing little Nebulönian squawk wimpers I had ever heard. And so I goo'chi goo'd at him like I would my own nephew. We played paddy cake with all of our arms. He always wins! Meanwhile, Charlie laughed at our happy goofiness. I think that I saw tears of joy on his cheek when he told me how the moment reminded him of how important I was to Dorf’s acclimation to Earth and why he taught the creature to call me uncle in the first place.

We all played a few rounds of “ninja”, Dorf’s favorite game, the game where you take turns trying to dodge each other’s lighthearted pokes and jabs. You would think Dorf, having 8 tentacles, would be good. However, he is so damn clumsy!

One by one, strange aliens of all kinds emerged from the house and joined in on our game. I was startled, I admit, but Dorf introduced me to each of them individually (needing to show me their respective common practices). There was Todgomj, the Mercury Rodent (not pretty, but honest, says hello via forehead-to-forehead touch). There was Ooglebob, the Saturnian Fliptricker (tricky but heartwarming, says hello with a simultaneous 360). There were a great many other diverse creatures. Charlie explained that when Dorf returned from his runaway stint, he returned with friends. “He signed to me that he would not step foot on my property, let alone speak with me again unless his friends could stay with us. I didn’t want to have some sort of alien commune, but he said they were refugees like him and had nothing else.”

“Oooph tiggy bo pop!” Dorf said all the sudden. What that meant was that it was time for a walk. Even I knew that. So just me, Dorf, and Charlie took a stroll down to the student farm near UMass campus. We really didn’t say much. Beforehand, Dorf had brought his friends inside and returned by himself with an 8-liter, Nebulönian-sized bottle of Fanta Orange Soda. It was so heavy it nearly brought Dorf’s hover level nearly to the ground. But man did that Nebulönian love orange soda. So instead of talking, we mostly just passed the soda around and enjoyed each other’s company. It would take two to hold, one to drink. It was like old times.

The farm was beautiful this time of year. So much fresh life emerging from winter. So many people tending to their personalized garden shares. Not just people though! The robot Martian ambassador, Serr-vo, was hard at work as well, tending to his plants despite the recent serious injuries he had sustained to his circuitry.

I introduced Dorf to Serr-vo, thinking Serr-vo might just fit right into Dorf’s friend group. But the sight of Serr-vo did something fierce to Dorf’s state of mind -- I could see that immediately. Dorf took off hovering. He dropped his soda. Serr-vo charged after him but was limited by a broken track. Charlie screamed like a child. We both ran behind Dorf until we were safely in the woods behind Orchard Hill. As we had escaped, I had seen Serr-vo funnel all the remaining Fanta through his tank at a frightening speed.

“What was that?” Charlie asked Dorf.

Dorf babbled the fastest, most fragmented Nebulönian you’ve ever heard, as he hyperventilated, stuck, laying in the moss on his side. Charlie tried to help, or to at least roll Dorf onto a stone so his goo wouldn’t get tarnished by the dirt and moss. Charlie cried as Dorf pushed him away.

“OObabab fanha mappapapapap”

There was a flash of light and 8-bit beeps. Then, there stood a large ragged-clothed bi-ped with a large television for a head. It was The Mechanical Fellow, he who I’d only heard stories of -- the rhyming, time-traveling cyborg journalist from the future. He was real, and he was concerned. He towered over Dorf.

He spoke sober Nebulönian to Dorf. They conversed (The Mechanical Fellow using rhymes even while speaking in Nebulönian). But the conversation took a turn. Dorf squawked like I didn’t know he was capable of squawking. The Mechanical Fellow tried calming him, but it was of no use. Dorf slapped his tentacles at The Mechanical Fellow’s screen, slapping him and covering his interface with goo. The Mechanical Fellow pushed Dorf away but did not want to hurt him. The final straw was when Dorf said, “Gabnangroo Hunjbunj flaug,” after stealing a handful of trophy gizmos from The Mechanical Fellow’s war necklace. Dorf gripped an ancient cell phone, a vinyl record, and various alien ancient alien technologies of great meaning to The Mechanical Fellow...

Dorf threw these items on the ground and broke the necklace that The Mechanical Fellow used to hold them. Then he said “Fanta Fanta Fanta” while pretending to pee on the items using his 26 utters. Charlie begged, “Dorf, stop it! Please!”

Furious, The Mechanical Fellow put his hand to the side of his screen. Beep. Boop. Bop. As Dorf continued his tantrum obliviously, the Mechanical Fellow pointed a bright light from his face into the sky. The light was so bright that you lost sight of Dorf. You couldn’t hear his words after a while. Then, when the light cooled, Dorf was gone.

The Mechanical Fellow pressed an audio recording button on his arm. A bellowing voice emerged from the clouds. “Dorf, Nebulönian Oobgulf, deported to home realm for an infraction on code 429ab49 of the Interplanetary Travel Oath.”

Charlie returned home in silence and has not shown himself since.

For more articles by Ron Gutterston, click here. To get in touch with this writer, email gutterston.ron@surrealtimes.net.

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