When I have no idea of what to write about, I usually go for a walk. The chances of seeing something that warants a story is huge: stories can be about anything. But today I had no inspiration at all and it was raining, which meant that I couldn`t go for my idea-searching walk. I could take an umbrella but in Canterbury you never know when strong winds are coming and it was also cold. Staying inside looked like the better option. The house was empty but for me and our ghost, and he was probably asleep in the attic. I made some tea (with oat milk: my new obssession) and went upstairs, to my room. My only option was to stare at our garden, through the window, and wait to see if something interesting would happen. By interesting, I mean anything different from Jack, the squirrel, jumping from tree to tree or the usual birds that feed in the neighbors’ garden.
I had nearly finished my cup of tea when something really did happen. In fact, I wasn`t expecting something so extraordinary; I was ready to write about a tree falling because of a lightning bolt or something like that. An enormous object suddenly hit the only tree we have, smashing it completely, and I can say it came from the sky because it was the only place from where it could have come, although I hadn`t seen it falling.
My first reaction was, of course, surprise. I dropped the rest of my tea with the shock. My second reaction was to laugh. Because the thing that had landed in our garden was a big, ridiculous, ugly giant tea cup. I had never seen such an ugly cup in my life, it was of a disgusting shade of mustard yellow and it had strange mushrooms painted on it (or at least I think they were mushrooms, the drawing was so bad that it could have been anythng else, in fact). And it was big, really big. I’d say the size of a van or bigger. Another weird thing, it had a lid. Some cups have lids for when you want to let the tea rest a bit, but I rarely see this.
That was already enough for a story. But what kind of person I would be if I immeadiately sat down and started to write, instead of going down to check this special kind of UFO I had just received? I ran downstairs, All Stars untied, and stopped at the glass door to the living room, because it was still raining. In amazement, I watched the cup’s lid rise in the air, floating, and a purple bald head, with bright green eyes, showed up. Aliens! My period in England had allowed me to meet my first ghost, and now I had an alien. Great. That’s what I call acomplished goals.
I opened the glass door and tried to call him inside using gestures, because I wasn’t sure if he spoke English or any Earth language. He starred at me with his strange eyes, and soon another purple head popped up out of the tea cup, both of them staring at me with no expressions at all. I soon noticed they had very little mouths. After some minutes, during which I breathed heavily in anxiety, they seemed to think that I was not dangerous and got out of the cup, revealing skinny bodies dressed in some old fashioned human clothes that by no means fitted them. They looked like sick 80’s children dressed in their older brother’s trousers.
But they had two legs and two arms, which I hadn`t quite expected in aliens. And they approached the door, apparently aware that I was trying to get them out of the rain.
-KNACKERED!!! — one of them shouted, in a very funny voice, pointing at himself.
That was a really strange way of starting a conversation. But they were aliens, so I thought it was ok. I then told them that they could rest on the sofa while I made some tea. I had to say that three times very slowly until they understood it; English didn’t seem to be the best language to talk to them in. I went to the kitchen, really excited, how cool is it to have alien guests on a Tuesday afternoon? I’ve learnt so many things about different cultures in the past few weeks, but I had met no aliens in Stafford House.
I went back to the living room with two mugs of Earl Grey tea and had the idea of trying other laguages. My first attempt was French, but by the way they reacted, they didn’t understand a word. I was relieved because it had been months since I’d last spoken French. Then I tried Spanish, and they seemed really relieved and started to talk a lot in perfect Spanish speech.
I had to ask them to speak slowly. My Spanish is ok, but that was too fast for me. Then I learned that they had, in fact, come to Canterbury to study English too. Everything made sense now: lots of new students this week, the empty rooms in our house. They had got lost on their way to the Earth and that’s why they had arrived two days later than expected. They knew Spanish because they had been in Argentina for five months, some years ago. I even asked them about the strange shape of their spaceship (I didn’t mention how ugly I thought it was) and they said that they thought it would be nice to come in a shape that matched the country’s mood. I think it would have been better if they had just written “keep calm and carry on”or something like that. Oh, and I asked their names, but apparently I wouldn’t be able to pronounce them, so thay said they had chosen Earth names, and they were Carlos and Alberto. Probably names they had learned in Argentina.
I showed Carlos and Alberto their rooms and explained to them how to get to Tesco to buy food. Now they are resting, but I can’t wait until Ingrid arrives so I can introduce them. She’s Mexican and has been teaching me some new vocabulary in Spanish, we can have a nice conversation.
Unfortunately, they surely won’t be in the Advanced class with me, I’m sure Freya would love them both, they are excellent people. Or aliens. And very funny too, they make excellent jokes, which is fantastic because the house had been so sad since Matheus left.
I’m just not sure what to do about the neighbor. He has rung our bell four times already, and I pretended nobody was home. How on earth am I going to explain why his fence is broken and he can see a giant tea cup in our garden, with the remains of a tree under it?