SmokeLong Quarterly

Today’s Fridge Flash comes to us from 12-year-old Quin, who very deftly illustrates the absurdity of our modern world with a wonderful sense of humor and wit.

The Grocery Alien

Until this happened, the cashier at SpaceMart was having a regular day. He was just about to take his lunch break when a short bearded man wearing a strange hat and sunglasses walked into the store. It was winter, so the cashier thought it was weird that anyone was wearing sunglasses.

The man walked toward the cashier. “Excuse me, which aisle is the oil in?” he asked.

The cashier pointed toward the cooking supplies. “Aisle twelve, left side.” he said.

The man made his way over to where the cashier directed him, but came back with nothing. “Where is the spaceship oil?” he asked. 

The cashier stared blankly at the man, then replied, “I’m sorry, we don’t sell… um… spaceship oil here.”

The man then said in a frustrated tone, “What kind of store is this!?”

“A grocery store, a supermarket, whatever you want to call it,” said the cashier. “But no matter what you call it, we don’t sell anything with the word ‘spaceship’ in it. The closest we have to what you’re looking for is olive oil. Works good on pasta.”

“Why is this place called SpaceMart,” said the man angrily, “IF YOU DON’T SELL SPACESHIP PARTS?” Then, he took off his hat and glasses and pulled off his beard, revealing a green head with huge, empty black eyes. The alien had a small mouth and no nose, as well as some short frizzy hair on the top of its head. Its ears were small and round, and a long, thin neck extended from its chest. 

The cashier gasped. “Wha…”

The alien took a deep breath. “Listen, sorry about my temper, but my spaceship crashed out back and I need some oil to get it started back up again,” it said.

“Am I hallucinating,” said the cashier, “or is there an alien in here asking for oil for his U.F.O.?” 

“You’re just hallucinating,” said a customer in another checkout aisle without even looking up from his phone. 

“Well… we sure don’t sell spaceship oil,” the cashier said to the alien, “but there’s a DriveFree car shop across the street, and I bet they’ll have something that’ll work.”

“Okay, I’ll try there,” said the alien, as he walked out of the store and across the street.

The cashier sighed. “Gonna be a long day…”

Quin Kondis is 12 years old. He enjoys rock climbing, ice skating, and exploring the woods. He also likes to play music on his keyboard and guitar. If he saw an alien in a grocery store, he would probably take off running.