BWAP BWAP BWAP BWA-

My fist shot out from the warm, comfortable depths of my bedsheets, shaking with the fury of an angry god, before calmly uncurling. My index finger poked the “OFF” button of my alarm clock with a practiced motion.

Oh boy. Another day of pestering Dexter Corp about their suspicious use of special purpose entities. I swear, these idiots were going to become the next Enron.

I liked to pretend that the way I swung myself out of bed each morning was like that cool maneuver that ninjas use to leap from their backs to a standing position, but in reality it was a pathetic, grumbling, sluggish motion of me falling unceremoniously off of my mattress and taking my comforter with me before standing up.

Ding!

With another practiced motion, I extracted a cup of steaming cream and sugar, with a little coffee added for taste, from the contraption atop my dresser.

Sip.

Yep, just the way I liked it.

Ten minutes later, I was seated at my kitchen table in one of my many suits, staring blankly at the Business section of the Dallas Morning News, pretending to read the latest damning article about Dexter Corp’s quickly-declining public image. I contributed most of the evidence there — I’m the one who found it.

Yes, I was an auditor. My job was basically wrangling corporate fat cats for information that they didn’t want to share, and using complex auditor language to get them to drop hints about what they were really doing. Did I enjoy it? Not really. I didn’t like being that guy. But hey, it paid really well, and if I got enough experience, maybe I could get a job as an internal auditor and be the guy who fixes a company’s financial statements before they get in trouble instead of being the guy who gets them in trouble.

Sip.

I decided to just flick on the TV to make me feel less lonely. I didn’t have many friends as an auditor. Go figure. Not really caring what was on, I planted my generous butt (thanks, Mom!) firmly into the couch cushion, letting it partially swallow me. I half-listened to the news anchor drone on about the latest questionable presidential legislation for about five minutes until I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and heard an animalistic squeaking noise.

I turned to look. Standing on the arm of my couch was a... uh... um... insect? I looked closer at it. It reminded me of a dog, if dogs were two inches tall, had huge eyes, purple fur, miniature bird wings, and bioluminescent protrusions from their heads. The insect looked up at me and made a squeaking noise not unlike a mouse, except much quieter and more controlled. Instead of “pheep-pheep, pheep,” it sounded more like “bee dee bee, lee dee lee.” It was tiny and high-pitched and I almost couldn’t hear it. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that the little thing’s face held a staggeringly human expression of anxiety and fear. It fidgeted uncomfortably, adjusting its wings.

I moved closer, and the “insect” trembled slightly and backed away. It squeaked a few more times, puffing its chest out, probably in an attempt to intimidate me. It waved at me with a little purple leg, continuing to squeak. I noticed that it seemed to have hair atop its head and a long, draping tail. It also had eyebrows. Eyebrows that were drawn together and upward as it stared at me, swallowing visibly. Wow. Actually, maybe it wasn’t an insect. It looked more like some tiny mammal.

I slowly reached for it with an outstretched finger, and it stared for several seconds, its trembling intensifying, before it let out the mouse equivalent of a shriek. Its bioluminescent horn glinted before it disappeared in a tiny flash of light and a sound that sounded like Minecraft’s sound effect when the player picks up an item. Where did it go? I looked about.

Not five seconds later did a similar creature flit up in front of my face, its little wings flapping like a hummingbird to keep it afloat. This one was blue, and had beautiful multicolored plumage. This close, I could see that its limbs had flat ends, almost like a horse’s hooves... and it was scowling at me. It flailed its front limbs about, squeaking angrily, before latching onto my nose with all four limbs, glaring at each of my eyes in alternation. I barely felt it. I lifted a hand with a plan to brush off what my brain was telling me was a spider, but relented when it squeaked again and batted at my nose with a little hoof. It seemed to be yelling at me, biting my nose with its little teeth and smacking it as hard as it could. It felt like nothing more than an itch.

I once again heard that sound from before, a teeny-tiny pop, and in a flash, the purple one was back, hovering in front of my face with its own wings. Its wings flapped so quickly, they were but a purple blur. It squeaked at the blue one, frantically looking between it and me. The blue one squeaked back. They began squeaking at each other in turn, as if they were having a conversation that was too high-pitched and too quiet for me to hear. The skttkllktkllktllkt of their wings wasn’t helping, either.

Slowly, carefully, I lifted a finger and gently brushed the blue creature off of my nose. It detached from my face but grabbed onto my finger, continuing its conversation. I wiggled my finger a bit until it let go. It then threw a punch at my nose. Still, I barely felt it. The purple one grabbed the blue one with its little limbs, and the two squeaked frantically at one another as they began the world’s smallest WWE match.

I shifted my position on the couch and stood up, unlatching and sliding open a nearby window so that the animals could leave if they were smart enough to figure out that it was an exit. Judging by how flies seemed to be able to crawl in through one-centimeter holes in the roof but were so extraordinarily stupid that they repeatedly tried to leave through a closed window instead of the open window next to it, I wasn’t expecting much.

Wait... how many of these things were in my house? A thought coming to mind, I looked at the floor. I almost flinched when I spotted a little orange creature staring up at me from in front of my feet. It was wearing a... a tiny cowboy hat. Oh, that was adorable. It was like a children’s toy. I smiled and shook my head, carefully stepping over it. It squeaked at me as I decided to ignore it for the time being and begin a trek to the kitchen to satiate my gnawing hunger.

I certainly wasn’t expecting the creatures to follow me as I walked to the kitchen. I also wasn’t expecting to find a fourth one sitting atop the piece of toast I was going to eat. I almost mistook it for a slice of butter until I noticed its long, swirling pink hair. It looked at me with an expression that sat somewhere between fear and awe, its little pupils dilating and its mouth hanging open.

I felt something tapping at my ankle. Peering down, I saw the orange one again, kicking at me. I bent down and picked it up between my thumb and index finger, causing it to squeak in fright, but it calmed down once its little hooves found the toast.

The blue creature flitted down and landed on the piece of toast next to the yellow one, squeaking incessantly. The yellow one looked at its blue friend, and its mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear any sound. The purple one soon landed next to them as well, squeaking up at me and pointing at itself and its friends. It seemed less scared of me now.

I blinked, my face screwing up. I had never seen animals like this before, nor insects. They reminded me of hummingbirds, horses, jewel beetles, and poisonous snakes all at once. “What are you?” I said to them.

They all jolted. The yellow one spontaneously compressed into a shivering yellow ball, the blue one began to squeak enthusiastically at me, waving its limbs around, and the purple one extracted a small flat object from its—... Were those saddlebags? Either way, it began to write on it with what looked like a tiny feather and inkpot. All without physically touching any of the objects. Wow. This was some crazy telekinetic sci-fi magic shit.

The purple one swatted the back of the blue one’s head with a hoof to shut it up before squeaking up at me. The orange one... tipped its hat to me. Wow.

I shrugged. Were these aliens? Jesus, I never thought I’d be the guy who had to make first contact. I worked in business; I spoke money, not politics. “If you’re intelligent and actually talking to me, I can’t understand you.” That set the purple creature off. It squeaked repeatedly at me, making huge and crude gestures with its forelimbs.

Its cranial protrusion shined brightly before projecting something onto the wooden kitchen table. It looked like text, but I could read it about as well as I could read Wingdings. Yep, definitely aliens. Definitely intelligent. Definitely trying to make first contact.

God damn it I had enough problems right now with Dexter Corp I didn’t want to have to deal with aliens too.

My palm met my face with force rivaling Krakatoa’s violent eruption in 1883. “I can’t read that.” I held my hand out in a “stop” signal when the creatures’ squeaking started up again. Cocking an eyebrow, I asked, “Wait, can you understand me?” The purple one nodded, more squeaks coming from its little mouth. My eyebrows rose. “Really?” I asked. Both the purple and blue aliens nodded this time. I took a breath through my nose. “Hmm.”

That was suspiciously convenient. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was in some cheesy short story written by a fifteen-year-old. But... whatever. Aliens. If we could communicate right off the bat, that would solve a hell of a lot of problems early on. Thank God this was easy, I guess... except for the fact that I couldn’t understand them. Okay, maybe not that easy.

I looked between them. The purple one was writing on its notepad(?) again, the blue one was sitting with its forelegs crossed, disgruntled, and the yellow one was still a shivering yellow ball about the size of a marble. The orange one seemed to be trying to console its yellow friend, pawing at the ball of fur and squeaking gently at it.

I held up a finger. “Tell ya what... I’ll be right back.” With that, I turned around and opened a drawer, extracting a notepad and a pencil. Just for the hell of it, I quickly sketched Apple’s logo and wrote “APPLE” beneath it. I gripped the notepad, about to turn and show it to the aliens, when I noticed that the purple one had perched on my shoulder, peering down at my drawing. I released the notepad and pointed at it, looking at the creature. “Can you read that?” It looked at me and nodded, squeaking once. “Can you write in that... script?” It nodded again. Its horn lit up once more, and it projected a little message onto the counter beside the notepad.

Greetings from Equestria!

My name is Princess

Twilight Sparkle, but just

call me Twilight. We come

in peace and hope to

establish good relations

between our kinds.

I snorted, unable to hold back a smirk. “Twilight Sparkle?” I snickered. Twilight gave me a look, squeaking a one-syllable word at me. I assumed Twilight was a “she” since she called herself a “princess.” She squeaked at me again, before shaking her head and projecting another message onto the counter.

We have a problem,

though... your world has

no ambient Mana. I’m working

with a really limited

supply here. If I can’t

find a way to generate

more...

Mana? Okay, I’m just gonna assume that was what they called their version of electricity. And if she was running on battery, then... oh. Oh, maybe I shouldn’t be making her project these messages...

Anyway, our world was...
erased. We barely made

it out in time. We can’t

go back. Can we stay

here? At least until we

figure something out?

Please?

Erased? Oh, shit. Something bad must have happened. Really bad. The little purple thing standing on my shoulder was a... planet-orphan. “Sure,” I automatically said, smiling at her. She smiled back. It was so freakin’ cute... and really, really sad at the same time. “Just how many of you are here, though? Er, I mean, in my house.”

Twilight thought for a moment, tapping her little chin with her little hoof. Another “magic” projection shone onto the counter.

204

My eyebrows rose so far, they threatened to break free of my face and go back to their home planet. “Really?” Twilight nodded once. Twilight and her comrades were so tiny that two hundred and four of them could probably fit on my couch. “Can I see them?” Twilight nodded again, smiling and taking to the air, flitting off in a direction. She turned around and squeaked at her comrades, who promptly took off after her. The orange one rode on the blue one’s back. I noticed it didn’t have wings.

She led me down into my basement, where I could hear continuous, quiet squeaking from what sounded like hundreds of mice. Very quiet mice. Instead of pitch black due to the lack of light, my basement was populated by tiny lights that were every color of the rainbow, almost like fireflies mixed with my favorite kind of fireworks. When I instinctively reached for the light switch and flicked it on, the squeaking intensified before slowly growing silent.

My basement was covered with tiny technicolor homeless aliens. I stared at them. They stared at me. They were everywhere. They were on the floor, on my washing machine, inside my cupboards, on the railings of the staircase, and even on my fake potted plants. Many were hovering in the air, some quickly darting behind various objects as they saw me.

My basement was nice; it wasn’t dank or anything, and had nice tile flooring... but that didn’t make the situation any less tense. A few squeaks were heard, tiny, almost whispered. Twilight perched on my shoulder and bellowed a string of loud squeaks that echoed throughout the room. These squeaks were actually at mouse-squealing volume. This seemed to put her kind at ease, and they resumed moving about and softly squeaking, though they were very wary of me. I looked down to my feet, noticing the little aliens walking to and fro. They were brightly-colored, which made them easy to see. Thank God; I didn’t want to step on them.

I crouched down to make myself seem smaller, though this was still probably a Shadow of the Colossus experience for them. I could see that some of the aliens, approximately half, had large, rugged, and blocky builds, while the other half, like Twilight, were smaller and rounder. Until I was given reason to believe otherwise, I decided to assume that this was their sexual dimorphism. Still, even smaller aliens were present, usually staying close to larger ones. Children, maybe?

Some of the extra-small aliens, not even an inch tall, were climbing all over my shoes... until what I assumed was their parents came and scolded them with a few harsh squeaks. The little ones looked disappointed, but hopped off of my feet obediently.

Some of the flying ones perched on me, likely assuming it was safe because their princess was on my shoulder. A blue winged male with toothpaste-colored hair and thick eyebrows clamped onto my nose, curiously looking between my eyes with his own huge-for-his-face ones. Another one clamped onto his back, a female, I think. She looked like snow, and her hair also looked like toothpaste. She nuzzled him affectionately, and he nuzzled back, which drew a smile from me. What? It was cute. The male squeaked, and I noticed that his squeak was noticeably lower in pitch than a female’s squeak.

There were so many of them that I really didn’t think I could walk around without stepping on them, so I gently brushed the two aliens off of my face before turning around, carefully watching my steps, and leaving the basement. I left the light on so they could see, though.

Some of them followed me. Several followed me. Actually, I was certain at least fifty of them followed me. Some were in the air, and some were on the floor. I quickly turned around and held my palm at them, causing a few to squeak in fright. “Please don’t leave my basement if you can’t fly. I really, really don’t want to step on any of you,” I said. “I’ll get you guys some food and water, if, uh, if you need it.” I turned to the purple princess still perched on my shoulder. “What do you guys eat?” I whispered.

Twilight started to squeak, but then remembered I couldn’t understand her and projected a message onto the drywall next to my basement door.

We eat a lot of things.
We’re herbivores.
And yes, we also need

water. Thank you.

“Alright, thanks.” I chewed on my lip. “Actually, I’m not sure what to feed you guys. You’re so small, and most of my food is bigger than you are. I mean, I could get some sunflower seeds, but...” I snickered.

Then my watch beeped. I started, then sighed wearily. I gave Twilight an apologetic look. “Sorry, Your Highness, but I gotta go to work. You won’t break anything while I’m gone, will you?” I smiled teasingly at her. Her eyes widened and she squeaked frantically at me. She grabbed the collar of my shirt with her little hooves, trying and failing to shake it. My smile became sad. “You’ll be fine. There’s an open loaf of bread in the kitchen, and given how small you are, I’m sure it’ll feed you all for at least today. If you need water, just turn the handle on the sink.” I grabbed her between my thumb and index finger, feeling her little muscles squirm, and set her down on the floor. “I’ll be back in about... ten hours, okay?”

She looked down at the floor beneath her hooves, her ears folding and lips quivering. She squeaked quietly.

I felt my heart clench at the sight, but, aliens or no aliens, I still had to attend my daily wrestling match with Dexter Corp. The little aliens watched me as I packed up my things and disappeared out the front door.

I had a thought that maybe I was being naive by leaving them alone. I could come back to a completely messed up house, and this was a historic moment for mankind or whatever, right? ...Eh. Screw it. I would deal with it later.

Author's Notes:

Disclaimer: Dexter Corp is an entirely fictitious company.