It’s Not Rocket Science Unless it Is

When in doubt use a cliche.

So it was raining cats and dogs the other night. And I was well hidden behind the eight-ball. I was about to go off the deep end cause my feelings were all over the map, and I could not get a handle or a bead on myself.

Now you might be thinking — this gal ain’t playing with a full deck, but you’ve gotta play the hand you’re dealt. But if you play your cards right, who knows, this could be your lucky day.

Your lucky day, not mine. I was supposed to be bringing home the bacon. I won’t mince any words with you, or beat around the bush. Truth is, I was caught red-handed with my hand in the cookie jar — AKA, the till. So, to let the cat out of the bag, yours truly was shown the proverbial door.

Too damn bad. Their loss. They couldn’t tell a diamond in the rough from a hole in the ground. They must be blind as a bat not to see my many splendid gifts.

Now I’m up shit creek without a paddle, and not even my red-headed stepsister knows how to help.

But little do they know, there’s more to the story than meets the eye. I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m not from around these parts. In fact, I cannot tell a lie, I’m not even from this planet. That’s my ace in the hole. I was bound and determined to make a go of it here.

Then I bit the hand that fed me.

I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass when I tell it like it is. You earthlings are not the only fish in the sea, ya know.

There’s a whole universe out there full of stars, galaxies, nebulous nebulae, meteorites, and yes, goo gobs of moons and planets. So put that in your smoke and pipe it!

While you guys have to stay inside during this lockdown thing, I can get back on my spaceship and cruise the ol’ intergalactic stomping grounds. Thanks to rocket science — and this is rocket science — I know a thing or two more than you. I’m not trying to lord it over anyone. It just happens to be true.

And if that rubs you the wrong way, hey, it’s no skin off my teeth, heavens to Betsy — whoever she was. So I’ll leave you to stew in your own juices, knowing the green dragon jealousy is wreaking havoc among you right now.

All I have to do is go up on one of them thar hills on a starry, starry night — draw a little line in the sand and stand on it. Then I flip open my flipper thingy and speak into the device.

As the saying goes — and you earthlings created it for one of your ever-popular shows on the boob tube, so you should know. You can repeat after me…

“Beam me up, Scotty, there’s no intelligent life down here!” Just joking, of course, but then again, if the shoe fits…smoke it!

Marilyn Flower writes political humor and satire to delight socially and spiritually conscious folks. She’s a regular columnist for the prison newsletter, Freedom Anywhere, where she writes about faith and prayer. Five of her short plays have been produced in San Francisco. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times.