NAIL GUN

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

 NAIL GUN

By R. Peterson

I called in “sick” but I was just lazy. The lumberyard could operate one day without their gopher. With a pillow over my head to block out the Monday … I slept until ten. Mom was working and Suzie, one year younger than me, was enjoying her Senior Year in High School … I was home alone.

Of course I felt guilty, that’s what three extra hours of sleep does to you. We were in the middle of a bathroom re-model so I decided to redeem myself.

Mom had painted the walls and they needed baseboard-molding. After measuring and cutting the lengths I needed, I loaded two-inch brads into an eighteen-volt battery powered nail gun and went to work. The trim boards were pre-painted I adjusted the depth control to keep the nails from going too far into the hardwood. I was listening to Canned Heat and almost didn’t hear the doorbell. There was static, a flash of light and I heard the chime just before the radio came back on. I had the nailer in my hand when I answered the door.

-------2-------

A UPS driver stood in the doorway. The package he was holding had a pen and sheet of paper on the top. “I need a signature.” He smiled. I held the safety-release on the nail gun with my left hand and shot him three times between the eyes and once in the cheek as he turned. He stumbled as he staggered down the walkway and I sunk a row of nails across the back of his neck that nearly decapitated him.

Mary Lewis was walking her Pug Puddles past on the sidewalk. “What happened?” she gasped as she stared at the puddle of blood beneath the driver’s head beginning to soak into the concrete. The first nail went into her arm just above the wrist and she dropped the leash. I was reminded of a cat-fight as more than thirty nails tore her fake chinchilla coat to shreds. Puddles kept running in circles alternately charging me then backing up … it took seven nails planted deep in his nose and head … to shut him up.

Harvey Wilson was watering his lawn when he saw Mary fall. He dropped the hose in a petunia bed and hurried across the street. He came at me like a charging rhino, even after the first few shots hit him. I didn’t think he was going to go down. He finally collapsed in a bloody pile, just before the steps, with his pudgy fingers still reaching for my neck. His broken glasses and golfing hat lay in the street and that’s when the police cruiser stopped … and then pulled to the curb in front of Wilson’s house.

For the first time since answering the door, I had time to think about what I’d done. I sat on the steps and placed the nail gun beside me. The cop was out of his car … crossing the street. He stopped to pick up Wilson’s hat and broken glasses and was staring at me. At first I reached for the nail gun but then when I saw him release the metal-snap I decided against fighting back as he drew the thirty-eight from his holster.

-------3-------

The cop was advancing toward me with the gun aimed squarely at my chest. I raised both hands above my head, wishing I hadn’t ignored the alarm clock and gone to work. I blinked several times. There was something wrong with what I was seeing. It was now a little past eleven and the morning sun was shining directly above my right shoulder but there was no shadow as the cop crossed the street. There was also something wrong with the police car. The driver’s door was painted with the familiar star and oak-leaf design of the Cloverdale Police Department but Cloverdale was spelled Clonerdale.

I was ready for the cop to order me to lay face down as he advised me of my Miranda rights. What I heard instead was “Rak ou da ka mo be zoon!”

His mouth opened incredibly wide showing at least six rows of shark-like teeth. I don’t remember reaching for the nailer only the pain as bits of shattered concrete stung my fingers. It wasn’t a bullet that tore into the cement and sent the stapler spinning into the flower bed … but a beam of light. “Rak do cun gabba wo zoo!” A tongue almost as long and green as Mr. Wilson’s water hose whipped from the creature’s mouth and retrieved my weapon from mom’s hollyhocks.

-------4-------

Suddenly three figures descended from the sky in a blinding beam of light that turned daylight into night. A somehow stunning female with hair like porcupine-quills pointed to the fallen UPS driver, Mary Lewis, Mr. Wilson and the Police Officer. “That’s them, Keeper,” she said. “They’ve shape-shifted to blend in with the earthlings.”

“Thank you Leika.” A man floating six inches off the ground, and with no visible feet, clicked an object in his hand and all four victims of my staple gun transformed into wounded insect-like creatures. The police car became a giant centipede with several seats attached to its back.

“Thanks for your help,” Keeper said. “We’ve tracked these mutants through three galaxies after they escaped from a zoo on Aboll’da 618.”

“I knew, even at reverse light speed, we’d never reach Earth in time,” Leika said. “So I used my mind-telepathy powers … to allow you to help us.”

“Just be thankful she didn’t want to mate,” the only human looking member of the group smirked … then looked nervous when the female called Leika glowered at him.

“Please don’t hurt me … I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I begged.

All three aliens laughed as they ascended into the sky with their captives. “Who would ever believe you?”

The phone rang just as I went back in my house. It was my boss. “Are you okay,” he asked.

            “Just caught some kind of bug,” I told him.

THE END?