KATACLYSM: A Space-Time Comedy Read Free Page A

time but they rationalize their decision with the thought that no one with any sense would ever guess such a stupid password.  And as it turns out, they're absolutely right because, as a group, aliens tend to assume that everyone else is far more bold and creative than they are.  They imagine that all of their friends have come up with witty bank codes, sentimental bank codes or bank codes that really make you think.  In fact, it's 1111 for the lot.  Of course, the various galactic banks, all of whom are well aware of this fact, go to great lengths to hide it from the masses.  They frequently advertise non-existent workshops on how to come up with the cleverest bank codes just as a way of reinforcing the public's belief that people are putting a lot of thought into the activity.  When it came down to it though, the banks were simply happy that everything seemed to work out in the end, a feeling that Paroophoron could truly relate to as he pulled one hundred dollars out of the ATM.
    Turning to leave, the alien noticed that Eric was no longer sprawled in a chair.  Indeed, he seemed to have disappeared altogether.  Suddenly fear gripped Paroophoron.  Had he been seen?  One of the doors along the side of the lounge was open and Paroophoron could hear a clanging noise coming from within.  He ambled over to the door and peaked in.  Eric had fallen asleep with his head resting on the side of his locker.  Paroophoron felt a momentary pang of guilt.  Dr. Silver had not been as fortunate as he.  Pity prompted the little alien to remain there for a few moments longer.  Then, as discreetly as he had come, he left.
    Warm soup in hand, Paroophoron climbed through the hatch into the recently defurbished spaceship that he had conveniently parked on the balcony above Wu’s restaurant.  He would have no more of this mucking about.  From now on, he resolved only to get takeout from places that delivered.  He glanced around him and was surprised at how much he truly missed the leather interior.  It had been a miserable trip to be sure and he was glad to be on his way.  But before he took off, Paroophoron’s thoughts drifted back to poor Dr. Silver.  He loathed seeing the man suffer, especially on such a bitter night without so much as a nice warm drink.  Ah well, thought Paroophoron.  There wasn’t much to be done, but at least I managed to leave Dr. Silver a little something that should cheer him up.  And so the good-natured little green alien revved up his spacecraft.  He would have to hurry if he was going to be on time for his dinner party.  But as he soared over the rooftops of sleeping Cambridge, he hadn’t the slightest inkling of the havoc that his little gift was about to cause.

Chapter 2
    At 10 a.m. on Sunday morning, Jude Conlan awoke to a changed world.  At first appearance, it seemed to be just like any other Sunday.  As usual, Jude had been brought out of his slumber by the bizarre legislative shrieks of his parrot Raymond.
    “…As my distinguished counterpart from the state of Illinois is well aware, school vouchers do nothing to address the fundamental problems facing our public school system,” Raymond squawked.  “Instead they represent a kind of defeatism that has no place in this fine country.  They’re counterproductive and they’re un-American…”
    Raymond’s previous owner had obviously gotten a kick out of turning the television to C-SPAN and then leaving for the day.  As a result, the multicolored bird endlessly exercised its unique ability to recite thousands of hours of political nonsense.  Occasionally, of course, he would quote racier material that had the unmistakable quality of low-budget adult film dialogue.  One way or another, the stream of sleazy chatter never seemed to end in Jude’s tiny Boston apartment.
    “…frankly, it is irresponsible to engage in partisan politics given the looming fiscal crisis…”
    “Shut up Ray.”  Jude got out of bed.  He waded