Crop Circle

“Do you mind explaining this?”

Berdi looked at the floating video screen and turned to his lead parental unit.

“It's a crop circle?” he responded innocently.

“I know what it is,” his parental unit replied coolly. “What I want to know is, why is it listed on the trip log for your interstellar scooter.”

Berdi fell silent. His parental unit's cheek glands flared as he leaned over the teenager.

“I cannot begin to explain how disappointed I am to find that you have taken to vandalizing planets,” his parental unit hissed.

“It's just a game,” Berdi mumbled.

“A game!” roared the parental unit. “This is not just a game. The population of this particular planet is not ready for contact with us. They are paranoid and primitive. We were hoping that they would eventually evolve to a level that we could mentor them into our alliance. But now...”

Berdi cringed as his parental unit growled.

“I'm sorry?” he offered meekly.

“Sorry is not going to cut it,” the parental unit snapped. “Your little prank has set off a series of events we cannot stop. Not only did your crop circle cause localized panic, but your sloppy take-off was witnessed by their local military. They aimed their defenses at your ship. You're lucky to be alive! Now their mainstream media has gotten a hold of the story. The whole world is in an uproar. This all but guarantees failure for any future diplomatic missions to this culture. This mess, this is all your fault!”

Berdi glanced up. “Does this mean I'm grounded?” he asked.

“Grounded!” snarled the parental unit. “If I were you, I would start thinking that merely being grounded is the least of your worries.”

Word Count: 295