Father looked at Mother. Mother looked at Catherine. Catherine was holding something dark and questionable on her lap. The room was abuzz with an alien nervousness. Father had awakened on the couch, his head propped on the armrest and a throw pillow. A blanket had been draped over his prone form. Mother had scooted the ottoman over next to her husband. Her hand held his and she hovered as nervous eyes flit from her daughter to the thing on the child’s lap. Of course, there were the other things in the living room she really hoped did not exist. Father fainted again. It was overwhelming for the poor fellow.

Yet, they did exist. Not fifteen minutes ago, they had showed up in her daughter’s bedroom. All of them were roughly the size of collies. All of them were black, with bug like shells and fluorescent compound eyes that swirled and could somehow focus. Gossamer wings like those of a dragonfly buzzed and flit, stirring the air in the room and keeping the flow constant. Mother noted how each one sported a little horn from the center of their head. Notched ears swiveled this way or that. The woman also noted each creature had holes in their legs. They varied in size and went all the way through their legs. She could not help but stare at those holes, fascinated, yet put off by how adorable the creatures were. Even their fangs just made them cute, like oversized naked mole rats. Gross, yet oddly adorable.

Catherine sat in her father’s overstuffed chair, clinging to one of the bug creatures. She was still in her pink pajamas. She had the sleepy look of a child who had been up all night with a great deal of excitement to spur her on. Thankfully, it was Saturday. This meant no school.

One of the things was currently being cuddled by Catherine. It identified itself as Speaker, and had made a rather unusual proclamation. It was one Mother had yet to come to grips with as she found herself wanting a cigarette. She had quit years ago when she discovered she was pregnant with Catherine and had not looked back since. Well, until now.

As much as she wanted to scream and panic, perhaps even faint, she could not. Her husband had done that the moment he hit the light switch and saw his daughter’s room filled with the black bug creatures. Their fanged smiles were terrifying. Some of the others tried hard to be adorable, but had instead, in her mind, managed to appear to be in dire need of a laxative. It was a disturbing image for her.

Windows had been cracked open and there were two pairs of eyes staring out every one in the house. The first rays of dawn were beginning to reveal the neat rows of houses on Maple Street. Several cars could be heard starting outside as some of the neighbors were off to work early. It was early spring and the leaves were just beginning to bud on some of the trees.

The creatures at the windows watched in silent fascination, chirping at each other in low tones. It was a new world to them.

Fear gnawed at Mother as she stroked her husband’s hand. She gave him one more worried glance before focusing her attention on Speaker. “So,” she began, struggling to find the words.

“So,” agreed the bug creature. He wore an expression she supposed was bliss. One blink, two, a third; each slow and deliberate as his own thoughts needed to be collected. “I am sure you have noticed things about my brothers and sisters.”

A light chittering of agreement sounded, mindful of the inert form on the couch.

Sher found a cup of tea offered from her right, held within a strange soft and barely noticeable light. “Tea? It’s chamomile,” offered another creature. It seemed to have a feminine voice, but it was difficult to be sure. Mother noted there seemed to be a buzz in their voices, as if a second was layered upon the first. “It’ll calm your nerves.”

She accepted her own tea cup, scrounged from her own kitchen. They had been exploring the house ever since they had emerged from beneath the bed. Some had found refuge from the crowded floor by simply clinging to the ceiling. Mother stared at those who had found the corner of the ceiling a nice place to cozy within. They stared back with expressionless gazes. It was mildly disturbing.

“Thank you,” she managed, her hands trembling. Surely they were destroying everything in the house. Her kitchen, recently remodeled, possibly reduced to shambles.

“We respect your house,” the creature told her, flicking a notched ear. They all had notched ears. The notches, Mother noted, were not all in the same place, like the holes in their legs. “You are afraid, correct? Please, do not be afraid. We would never harm the family of our Queen.”

Speaker cleared his throat. “Mother abandoned us. She abandoned us so she could chase a selfish dream of conquest. We found this portal. We did not want to do harm to others. Mother was angry with us for not supporting her. We came through the portal. We feared Mother more than we feared the unknown. We love Mother, but she can be violent when she is upset. We could not bear seeing Mother upset, but we could also no longer accept her neglect. We left the hive. We broke our bonds with Mother. We need a new Queen or we will not survive. We need love or our minds will slowly devolve to plain oatmeal mush. Noling likes oatmeal mush.”

Mother blinked. She inhaled deeply, then sipped nervously from her cup. “What do you call yourselves?” Mentally, she wondered when they would stop with the charade and begin devouring everyone.

Catherine was petting his neck, the little girl smiling tiredly. She fought to stay awake. Her eyelids were heavy. “Is Daddy going to be okay, Speaker?” she asked.

“It’s a promise. Wesley is watching over him,” assured Speaker. To Mother, he replied, “We are called changelings. Our kind have lived in the shadows, imitating other species and feeding off of their emotions.” His face scrunched up in mild annoyance. “Wesley, please don’t stare at him like that.”

Mother looked up. One of the changelings was attached to the ceiling, his head dangling as he stared intensely at her husband. “He hasn’t moved yet,” observed the observer.

Speaker assumed a wan smile of apology. “He takes his role rather seriously, I’m afraid.”

“He’s silly!” yawned Catherine. She giggled and hugged Speaker again.

“He’s creepy,” Mother said with a shudder. “Does he have to stare like that?” Her hands still shook as she tried to have more tea.

“Wesley, less creepiness,” commanded Speaker, trying to look authoritative. A six-year-old human girl was hugging the stuffing out of him. It felt nice to be loved unconditionally and without reservation. The new Queen was growing on him, as well as the others.

Mother noted the envious grins on the faces of the other changelings. A happy group sigh filled the air. Was it all a charade? Were they serious? They did help bring Frank from Catherine’s room to the couch. It took three of them, but they were gentle. She noted how they seemed to hang one every action and expression on her daughter’s face.

“We are the Changelings Who Say Ni!” piped up a squeaky male voice behind her.

“Shh!” shushed the others.

“You are still confused,” Speaker noted. “This is understa—urk!” He was glomped by Catherine, who was giggling again. “Understandable!” He had to pry her off while still managing to look somewhat respectable.

Mother sighed. She was afraid. Oh, so afraid! Still, these...changelings seemed nice and fawned over her daughter. They were respectful. None of the furniture was broken, contrary to her previous fears. There had been not one sound of something breaking over the buzzing of wings, clicking mandibles, and curious hissing. What was with the hissing? It would be adorable, if adorable was creepy and unsettling.

“My house. You will ruin my house.”

“We will not ruin your house. We respect the home of our Queen, as it is now our own.”

Mother did a spit take. “What? You are not staying here!”

Speaker’s ears flattened against his skull. He rubbed one leg against the other as Catherine glared at her mother from his side. “Mommy! They’re staying!” she proclaimed.

“We’ll take out the trash!” Cried out one changeling.

“We’ll do the dishes!”

“We’ll dust the furniture!”

“We’ll clean out the garage!”

“We’ll burp your Tupperware!”

“We’ll clean the toilet!”

All eyes darted to the last changeling to make a suggestion. All hooves pointed to Frank. “That’s what he’s here for!” The changeling was cowed into submission by the others and nodded sagely at their collective wisdom.

“You won’t even know we’re here,” assured Speaker as he cast a holed hoof over the throng of changelings filling every nook and cranny of the house. “We can literally live on love, so you don’t have to shop for food for us.”

Mother was shaking her head. “No.”

“We can change form, if our appearance is also a concern. We are less dangerous than pit bulls.”

“Or savage squirrels,” added another changeling helpfully. Mother sensed the changeling was female as a hoof was offered. She introduced herself. “Hi. I’m Angela. I’m a Virgo.”

Hesitating, the woman took the hoof gingerly with her hand. Did she just grasp it? Would it feel slimy? It didn’t look slimy. Thankfully, upon contact, her fears proved to be unfounded. “Beatrice.”

“You are concerned about many things.”

“That goes without saying,” laughed Beatrice nervously. “I have monsters in my house!”

“But we’re adorable monsters!” insisted Speaker. “We’re even making up names for ourselves as we go along because Mother assigned us numbers and letters for organizational purposes. There were too many changelings; not enough time to name us all.”

“She has a library of baby name books!” Called out an unnamed changeling.

Speaker added, “She used them all at some point, giving up on Swahili names. After around egg number one million, she more or less threw in the towel when it came to giving us names.”

“There are one million of you?”

“Not at the moment, no. Mother has laid over a million eggs, but that has been over a span of a couple of thousand years. Each of us drones only live sixty to eighty years and Mother lays eggs to maintain a certain population number. It’s over a million. She just stopped naming us after she started running out of names to give. It was becoming frustrating for her. That and diaper bills.” Speaker laughed weakly. “Mother was both brilliant and stupid. We love her and will always love her, but she’s a lovaholic.”

“Too much Cadence.”

Angela turned to the unnamed changeling who spoke. “Kevin, you dummy! She was drunk on Shining Armor’s love for the Princess of Love.”

Kevin shrugged. “Same difference. We’re here. Mother is a bed. Mother turned herself into a bed to escape responsibility! She does not speak to us. We did what we had to to get the love we need to stay civilized. I don’t want to drool in my own stupidity.”

“I get the feeling there’s a story behind this,” Beatrice said.

“It’s a terrible story, filled with plot holes, bad innuendoes, and other things that don’t make sense.” Speaker sniffed. “But, we wrote a song about it! Want to hear it?”

“Not really—”

“Here it goes!” Angela took in a deep breath and sang out:

“A song really isn’t necessary…” Beatrice wondered where the music was coming from as the changeling scrambled to take positions. They were warming up, jostling each other, shushing each other and clearing their changeling throats. Speaker sat up straight and proud, and sang:

‘Where have I heard this melody before?’ Beatrice blinked. Catherine was moving her head from side to side as she absorbed herself into the song. Angela went next:

Speaker filled in smoothly even as Catherine hugged him again. She refused to let him go.

His voice faded and Angela filled in smoothly.

A sense of sadness fell over the room. The music faded and Frank stirred. The man groggily sat up. Whispers surrounded him as the changelings backed away from him. Except Wesley. Wesley assumed a wide grin and wagged his tail happily.

“Daddy!” Cried Catherine happily. She slid down from her seat and went to her father. She crawled into his lap as he sat up, a hand to his head as he groaned.

“What happened?” He asked, looking to his wife. “I had the strangest dream. We went into Cathy’s room and saw...saw...saw?” Drifting from wife to surroundings, his eyes grew wider and wider. “I heard music,” he went on, not comprehending there were unusual guests in his house. His arms went around his daughter protectively. Frank craned his neck over one shoulder, then the other as he blinked, uncomprehending.

“Do not adjust the center of your screen,” said Speaker in a monotone. “We control the horizontal. We control the vertical. There is nothing wrong with what you are seeing. We are real. We serve your daughter. Your daughter is our queen.”

“Ni!” cried a couple of changelings.

“Shh!” shushed a couple of more.

Frank fainted again.

Beatrice would have loved to join her husband on the couch. This whole thing was absurd! And where had that music come from? It was as if a horrible children’s show had spilled out and into her home!

“So,” Catherine chirped happily, bouncing on her unconscious father’s lap. “Can I keep them? Is it alright if I become their queen! I promise, I’ll be a good queen!”

Beatrice patted her daughter on the head. “No, honey. You can’t.”

The changelings gasped.

“But, we can change!” Speaker exclaimed over his own sputtering.

Angela groaned. Wesley simply grinned creepily at Frank. Several changelings facehooved. “We have simply started negotiations,” the female changeling reasoned. “First of all, we will listen to the terms of the mother of our Queen.”

“Get out,” Beatrice said sternly, pointing at the door.

The female changeling stared at her. She then nodded slowly. “Starting at the bottom. Good. We can work our way up from that.”

“Mommy, you can’t throw them out! They’ll be lonely!” declared Catherine with a pout. “They’ll die!” Tears formed, brimmed, threatening to come out.

“We can negotiate terms amicable to all, I’m sure,” assuaged Speaker. He wore his best and most diplomatic smile. “I promise we will make it worth your while! There is little we can’t do! We are magical creatures! We can be anything we want to be. Literally.”

Beatrice was overwhelmed.

“Please, Mommy?” Catherine looked at her father.

“I don’t think it’s a very good idea,” said the woman. “They’re illegal aliens…”

“We technically don’t exist, so we really can’t be considered illegal aliens. Undocumented, sure, but illegal?” Angela blinked and shrugged. Her wings buzzed in irritation.

Author's Notes:

Inspired by this horrid little short story!

I tried to edit this myself. Please feel free to point out any tpyos.

Enjoy!

Revised 04/11/2016

Tip Jar!