An Orange Visitor

Strange sounds were coming from downstairs. At least that's what Carol claimed when she elbowed me.

"Wake up," she said. "Somebody's downstairs!"

I glanced at the clock. 4:00 AM. A great way to start another tough day at work. Couldn't even get a few more hours of sleep.

Creeping down the stairs, I heard something too. Not loud. A slight scratching.

Then a crash. Something got knocked over. Probably in the dining room.

Turned right at the bottom of the stairs, and flipped on the lights.

For crying out loud. A stupid squirrel on the dining room table.

"Good evening Mr. Morrison," the squirrel said, standing up just like you and me.

My first thought was that this had to be a dream. Had to be.

"What is it Mike," Carol hollered down the stairs.

"You wouldn't believe it," I replied. "It's an orange squirrel."

"Like the ones on TV?" she asked.

Reminded me of where I'd seen this creature before.

"If this is an ad," I asked, "what are you trying to sell me?"

"Nothing Mr. Morrison," the squirrel replied. "Nothing."

"Then what?" I asked. "Are you a piece of bad meat as Scrooge asked?"

"Ah, 'A Christmas Story'," the squirrel replied. "Truly a classic."

A literate squirrel. Who knew.

"But that's not why I'm here." the squirrel said. Continuing, " we've seen recent signals from your planet where humans and orange squirrels converse intelligently. We're representatives of our universe, and wanted to make contact in a way that you'd be comfortable with."

"Well, as long as you're not selling insurance, we can talk."