Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth

“Look, I want to relax, have a few drinks, listen to some music, and maybe pick up a woman. You two goons are going to draw all kinds of unwanted attention to me.”

“We have our orders.” If the man was upset about being called a ‘goon’ he did not show it.

“Hey, can you at least wait out in the parking lot? How much trouble can I get into at a bar?” Mike asked, as they crossed over Atlantic Avenue.

The two men glanced at each other. They knew Mike was not a normal person. They knew he was a V.I.P. of some sort, but they did not know of his extraterrestrial origins.

Mike pressed, “Listen, what if I get some cute little piece-of-ass to come home with me tonight? Are you two clowns going to have to stand over the bed while I bang her?”

Mike looked like a human, and the average person would never suspect he was not of this world. He wanted to get the maximum enjoyment out of his vacation before heading back to the confinement of his underground bunker.

Goon number one hesitated for a painfully long moment, but then his stature relaxed. Mike knew he had won. “Okay, I don’t know why we were instructed to keep such a close eye on you, but you seem to be a decent guy. We will stay in the parking lot, but if you cause problems, you won’t be able to take a shit without us watching.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Mike said enthusiastically, putting his hands together and taking a slight bow. Mike really had no intentions of doing anything illegal. He just wanted to have a few minutes without big brother watching him.

“If anything goes down, if you feel unsafe for any reason, take this,” the agent handed him a small plastic device, the size of a key fob. “Press the red button in the middle of the key fob, and we will be there in seconds. Its range is two miles, but, here in the parking lot, we should not be more than 100 yards away. Keep it in your pocket.”

Mike took it. He assumed the key fob also contained a GPS tracking system and listening device, but it was still better than having those guys bumping into him in the bar.

Mike walked up the wooden stairs onto a large deck. He pushed through the crowded room full of drunken sailors, college kids, and vacationers. The bar was decorated in a muddled nautical theme with crab pots, anchors, surfboards and other items relating to beach life.

Mike navigated his way up to the crowded bar, sliding in between two scantily clad co-eds that had been drinking copious amounts of alcohol. After a few minutes, the bar tender approached him, “What can I get for you, sweetie?” The bar tender was wearing a tiny black spaghetti string top that barely covered her breasts and short tight cutoff jeans that allowed her butt cheeks to peek through when she bent over.

“I’ll take a water,” Mike said.

The waitress frowned, “Would you like anything in the water?”

“Just ice, ma’am. I have to drive home. Could you put it in the high ball glass? I don’t want to look like a cop,” Mike said with a grin.

“No problem,” the waitress slid the glass of water to him across the bar, smiled, and winked. Mike was accustomed to getting attention from the ladies. It did not take him long to figure out that human women found him attractive.

Mike glanced at two drunk co-eds on either side of him; they were way too young. He made his way to the back open-air deck. Beyond the deck was the boardwalk, sandy beach, rolling ocean, and starry night. He found a chair near the band and sat down. He was there for one purpose: to find a woman.

There’s a woman in this bar that has already decided that she is going to have sex with a stranger tonight. My job is to figure out which one that is – don’t waste time with the rest of them.

He scanned the bar, checking out each woman.

Too drunk. Too married. Too many girlfriends.

He took another sip of water. Across the bar he saw a woman, appearing to be in her mid-thirties, leaning up against the wall. She was making love to an icy red drink with a gaudy umbrella in it. Mike waited a few minutes; no boyfriend appeared. Mike walked over to her.

“Hi there, I’m Mike. Do you like this band?”

She smiled and raised her finger to display a large wedding ring.

“My bad. Your husband is a lucky guy,” Mike said. Mike was tall, fit, and had deep blue eyes. His blonde hair, which normally was combed back for work, was fashionably unkempt. He was 220 years old, but did not look a day over thirty-nine. Mike was confident he would find the right woman.

After striking out a few more times, Mike went back to the bar to refill his glass.

“Same thing?” the bartender asked with a smile.

Mike nodded his head. When she spun around his eyes dropped to the super tight cut off shorts.

“Like what you see?” the bar tender had turned around so fast Mike could not divert his eyes. She was still smiling.