Stealth is clearly the
best option in this situation. After all, the presence you feel could
easily be some hideous, flesh-rending alien terror bent on making sure
you never have the chance to fully spoil the invasion that is
undoubtedly being planned! Worse, it could be the mayor, still fuming
over his pants-ing and eager to return the favor!! You hush up and try
to act as corn-like as possible as you wait for the presence to reveal
itself.
Whatever it is, it seems to have come to rest at a point about three
cornstalks in front of you. What could it be up to, you wonder, apart
from enjoying the wonderful, pervasive smell of freshly-watered corn and
freshly-laid manure? Your question is soon answered, as you hear the
sound of more cornstalks being pushed aside, this time with a lot of
indistinct grumbling. A second beastie? A member of the mayor's Atomic
Wedgie Patrol (AWP)? An angry farmer? Whoever or whatever it is, it
stops just short of the first presence and starts talking. You can't
make out what he's saying. It's almost like he's speaking another
language. Or maybe he's just stupid. Suddenly, the first one chimes in,
"Fool! We're still in
disguise! You need to stick with the language of the natives."
"Sorry, agent Tristan. I was just…"
"You were just blowing
your cover, agent Fredward. What if one of the humans was here right
now, pretending to be corn, and overheard your little tirade!?"
"Well then we'd need to
schedule him a trip to the head-muncher! Muahahaha!!!"
"The head-muncher is
nearly full, agent. He wants us to just be more careful with our speech.
Specifically, he wants YOU to be more careful with your speech, stupid."
"Zeddie said that?"
"Focus! What news do
you have of 'the plan'?"
"Yeah, about that. I
still don't see why I have to give my presentation out in a corn field."
"Because, you
simpleton. The humans will not venture into cornfields. My preliminary
research into their culture shows that they are scared that they will be
sent into cornfields by malevolent children. What better place to hide
our skullduggery?"
"It's just that I think
the humans are on to us. I saw a bunch of them milling about our last
meeting spot."
"Ah yes, I recall that
spot. It was your turn to pick the cornfield, and you decided to ‘mark'
it for me by knocking down the corn to spell out, 'I'm right here, agent
Tristan," in our language. Smooth."
"I said I was sorry."
"Enough. Now, about
'the plan'…"
"What was that?"
The two of them are
startled by the stirring of the townsfolk nearby. This could be it! Your
chance to expose an alien plot and become a hero the world over! You
squeal with excitement!
"That sounded close!
The farmer must have released his truffle hogs again. We must adjourn
the meeting for now. Let us reconvene at the appointed place of
appointments."
"Fine, I'm going. I'll
tell you about the ahhgrxsxsxksshh!"
"What happened, agent
Fredward!?"
"I cut myself on one of
these damn corn leaves. They're so sharp! We really need to have these
meetings elsewhere."
"Here come the humans.
Go!"
You hear the sound of
corn being pushed aside in two different directions. After a moment, you
work up the courage to step forward and survey the scene of this
"meeting". There's no shortage of flattened corn, but what catches your
eye is a single leaf…
The edge is coated with
a thin layer of a bright, blocky liquid. This must be the leaf that one
of the aliens cut himself on. No, this is the leaf on which the alien
cut himself. You apologize for ending the previous thought in a
preposition, and then wonder what you should do now.
