He felt so limp and drained afterward that he sagged, grateful Gorg’s arms kept him upright. “Oh, fuck! That was…that was amazing.”
“Good! Now you have a good memory to associate with a Christmas tree.” Gorg chuckled happily. “Can you walk, or shall I carry you upstairs?”
“No, I can walk and why are you still here? I figured I dreamed you up because I needed to get off, but now that I have, shouldn’t you disappear?” Ebenezer frowned at Gorg. He pulled up his pants and tucked himself away.
Gorg grinned. “You are weird, but in a good way. I am not imaginary! I’m real.” He took Ebenezer’s hand and placed it on his face. “See? Flesh and blood. Mostly.”
Ebenezer shook his head. “It’s impossible.You’reimpossible. Unless you’re in my head, you’re absolutely, positively inconceivable. There’s no such thing as aliens!”
Gorg shrugged. “And yet here I am. By the way,you’rethe alien. Andthisis an alien planet. Just pointing that out to you.”
Ebenezer climbed the stairs, aware that Gorg was following him but hoping it was just his imagination. It would be so much easier if he were delusional. Then he could eat an edible, take some meds, or check into a spa for a rest, and then get on with his life.
But if this thing, this person, thisalienwas real…
Then he’d need to consider his options.
He could call the police and turn him in. That would probably be the right thing to do. The patriotic thing.
Or…
He could make the rounds of daytime television appearances and do the nighttime show circuit with Kimmel and Fallon. Maybe get his own HBO special or a reality show. That would be sweet. Good money and he wouldn’t need a fucking fluffer, either.
Maybe having his own honest-to-Christ alien might not be so bad after all.
Except for this holiday obsession it had. That had to go.
Chapter 4
“I’ll be happy to show you around. We can be a team — I can get you gigs on all the daytime and late-night shows. The paparazzi will go nuts over you. There may even be a television special in the future. A feature film. Merchandising! Action figures, board games… The sky is the limit, but you need to let go of this holiday obsession you have first.”
“Oh no, that is most unacceptable,” Gorg said. “I didn’t fly halfway across the Universe to experience the holidays and end up with the one human who detests them!”
“Then hop back in your spaceship and go find someone else!” Ebenezer cried.
“I can’t. I’ve told you already — my ship was destroyed on entry into your atmosphere. I’m stuck here, and I’m determined to see the holidays.”
“Then find another tour guide.”
“I don’t want another tour guide. I want you.”
“Well, you don’t have me. I don’t want anything to do with the holidays, not anymore.”
“But why? What has happened to destroy your love of them? Surely, you liked them once upon a time?”
Ebenezer started to lie but it stuck in his throat. He shook his head and turned away. “It started a long time ago. Many years back, when I was a child. I lost my faith in all the magic of the holidays back then, and never found it again.”
In a soft voice, Gorg asked, “Tell me about it, Ebbie. Tell me what hurt you so badly.”
“I haven’t spoken about it in years, and I’m not about to start now. To a stranger, no less. Not even to a stranger from another planet who gives excellent reach-arounds.”
Gorg became visibly upset. “Who stole your joy, Ebbie? I must know. It’s a mystery, and I cannot stand leaving mysteries unsolved. Did you know I once missed an entire tri-season of school while doing a multi-dimensional, four-million-piece puzzle because a single piece was missing, and I had to find it? Thank the Purple Gods that I found it wedged between the table and the wall. I wrote such a touching and emotional essay about the experience that it moved my instructors to tears and scored me a passing grade, or I might still be in University trying to pass Rudimentary Starship Navigation.”
“Lovely story. The answer is still no.”
Gorg shook his head. “Something in you is cloaking the truth from you. Surely not every holiday season in your life has been miserable. Humans cannot be born hating the holidays!”
“That’s not how I remember it.”
