the alien character on the Enterprise will eventually be named STANLEY, and was created by MIRANDA FAVE; and is used with permission.
The plain colored sedan made its way down the crowded streets of Pacific Beach, which was a beach community located in San Diego California. And although the car looked quiet on the outside, on the inside it was another story entirely.
Austin Grayson was sitting in the seat, as, once again, his father, Frank Grayson, gave him a verbal dressing down. Frank, who was sitting in the front passenger’s seat, as his Detective partner, Lt. Jose Cortez, drove the car. Frank was looking back at Austin in the back seat.
“Shooting your god damn principle in the ass with a paint pellet isn’t too bright, now is it?!” Frank half yelled.
“Oh shit dad, come on,” Austin replied, “you tell us all the time how you spiked your principle’s brownies with hash, or how you and your friends broke into cop cars and sunk them in the swaps, never to be found, and other stories, and they always get big laughs from friends and family.” Where as Frank was agitated, Austin was calm and cool when he spoke. Austin took after his mother; calm…cool.
Frank looked to Jose, who was smiling.
“What are you smiling at?” Frank asked his fellow crime fighter.
“Austin’s right,” Jose said with a slight laugh.
“He’s going to get caught, someday,” Frank said to both of them. “Luckily the first officer on the scene was George,” Frank said. “He found the gun in the tree and ditched it.”
“George is cool,” Austin said, “I wish you were cool like he was. Did you know that he lets his son smoke pot at home?”
“I didn’t need to know that,” Frank said.
“Yeah,” Austin said, “George is cool like that.”
“Officer George Langford smokes pot at home?” Jose said, with disbelief in his voice. “Wow.”
“Look,” Frank said, lowering his voice, “one of these days one of your stupid pranks is going to get you in trouble, and neither George, Jose, or myself, will be able to help. Now I know losing mom was hard on you, and your sister; shit, it was hard on all of us, and I know some of this behavior stems from that. But somewhere along the way you’ve got to get it together.”
“I know dad,” Austin said, his voice in a serious tone.
“How did you get the gun?” Frank asked. “Those caliber of paint guns are not supposed to be sold to kids.”
Austin reached into his pocket, took out his slim wallet, and removed an ID from it, and handed it to his father, Frank. Although it looked very authentic, it was obviously fake, since Austin wasn’t really named Mike Mistral, and he wasn’t twenty-seven years old.
“Wow,” Jose said, as he leered over and saw the fake ID, “that’s pretty fucking good.”
“Yeah,” Austin said, “mom showed me how to make them.”
“Sharon learned to do that as a simple analyst for the FBI?” Jose asked.
Frank nodded, with a look of nostalgia on his face.
“She was one of a kind,” Frank said, with awe in his voice. Frank gave the fake ID another look over and then he looked back at Austin. “Not bad,” Frank said. “But look, you’re too young for this kind of stuff. I like the fact you are becoming your own man, Austin, heck I had fake IDs when I was your age, but I don’t want to see you throw your life away on these silly stunts. I told you, once you reach eighteen years old, I can get you into the FBI. But if you get caught doing this crap, like shooting your principle with paint guns, you can kiss an FBI career goodbye.”
Frank handed the ID back to Austin.
Austin nodded as his dad spoke. He knew that his father was right, and would try to stop him self when the urge came to do something stupid again.
“I’ll try,” Austin said softly, as he returned the ID to its slot in his wallet.
“You’re going to let him keep it?” Jose asked.
“If I take it, he’ll just make another one. This way I can track what Mr. Mistral is buying,” Frank said. “And it better not be anymore guns.”
“What about porn?” Austin asked softly.
“With-in reason,” Frank said, as he turned to face forward.
“Whew,” Jose said, with a sigh of relief, “another Grayson family crisis averted.”
“You’re telling me,” Frank added, “and we haven’t even seen Amber yet today.”
All three, in unison, crossed their fingers. Because, strangely enough, all things considered, Austin was the “good” kid of the family. In fact…
--
Amber stretched out on the bed in her room, with only her bra and a skimpy tight white thong hiding her complete nudity. Her boyfriend, Harris, whom she had started dating the day before, was standing beside the bed, only in his tight white Hanes briefs.
“Why don’t you wear boxers like the other guys?” Amber asked as she looked him up and down.
“I told you,” Harris said as he got on the bed next to her, and met his lips with hers. They kissed for a moment. “I like the firmness of the Hanes, that way I can pretend you have your hands on my…”
“Shhh,” Amber said suddenly. In an instant she was up on her knees, peering out the window that was above her bed.
Harris smiled as he looked at Amber’s very tight rear end, inches from his face.
“What’s wrong?” Harris asked.
“It’s my dad,” Amber suddenly said. “Shit, Jose’s with him too, and so is Austin. FUCK!”
“I’ll sneak out the back, no big deal,” Harris said, as he lazily put his pants on.
“Ummm, Harris,” Amber said, “there is something I need to tell you; my dad isn’t only the biggest dick head in the world, he’s also a cop.”
Harris quickened his pace getting dressed.
“A cop?” Harris asked, in a panic. “You’re dad’s a fucking cop?”
“And his best friend, Jose, is a cop too, and they’re both here.” Amber said, fighting back the urge to laugh as she watched the boy, in pure panic, dress in a hurry. He was bending over, trying to pull up his pants, and Amber licked her lips at the sight of his firm butt as well.
“What a waste,” Amber said softly.
In the blur of a few seconds Harris ran out of her room, to the back entrance. As he snuck out the back he breathed a sigh of relief, no one was there, or so he thought., and he ran off.
As Harris made his way down the back street Austin, carrying two empty trashcans, which he brought up from the front yard every Tuesday’s trash day, smiled. Once again one of Amber’s boyfriends had escaped being caught. But Harris wasn’t as safe as he thought; and why?
Because, unknown to either Amber or Harris, a secretly positioned camera had no doubtfully filmed the entire incident in his sister’s bedroom. Austin didn’t do this because he was a pervert who liked to watch his sister and her boyfriends. He filmed every bad thing she did in her room because it was future blackmail fodder to use against her; when the time came.
Then again, when Amber and her best friend Marcy “experimented” with sex with each other, Austin kept that tape in a special place for special occasions.
--
Two hours later, after Jose had left, Frank Grayson was busy making dinner for his children. He opened the refrigerator, and saw the four stacks of frozen dinners. One stack was for Frank, one for Austin, one for Amber, and the fourth stack was for guests who ate over.
“What do you two want!” Frank yelled, knowing the kids knew why he was yelling.
“PIZZA!” came Austin’s voice, from somewhere in the home.
“RAVIOLI” came from Amber’s voice, also, from somewhere in the home.
Frank grabbed the to requested food items, plus his own selection, meatloaf, and put the three boxed frozen dinners on the counter. He could cook two of them at a time, and stuck his children’s choices into the microwave oven first.
--
As Frank prepared dinner, Austin was sitting in the living room watching an old episode of Three’s Company, which was playing on the TVLAND channel. Austin, who realized the show was made before he was even born, was, at times, funny., But he watched for another reason; boobs. The women on the show were always wearing tight shirts that did little to contain their ample breasts, which for a freshmen in high school, was T.V. nirvana.
“Your dinners will be ready in two minute!” Frank announced from the Kitchen.
“OKAY!” came from both children.
As Austin was watching the antics of Jack Tripper, a strange beeping sound came from his father’s leather jacket which was hanging on the door.
Two minutes later, Jack had finished cooking the frozen foods and, after opening them up and putting them on real plates, he set each plate on the table in the positions where he and his children sat around the table.
Amber was the first to arrive, wearing her Ipod, and lost in her own world of music, thanks to the tiny earphones she had in her ears. She just sat down and started digging in as Frank placed a glass of milk next to her plate of food.
Frank was about to sit down when he realized Austin had yet to come into the small dining room adjacent to the kitchen.
“Austin,” Frank called out, “dinner’s up bud.”
There was no reply. Frank remembered hearing the Three’s Company song minutes earlier, and went into the living room to find his son; Austin wasn’t there. Frank walked down the hallway, looked into Austin’s room, which was kept immaculate, and Austin wasn’t there. Frank poked his head into Ambers room, which had dirty clothes everywhere, food wrappers on the floor, two plates of half eaten food items; the room was in its usual ‘post Tornado’ condition, and Austin wasn’t there. Though, there was a sock near Amber’s bed, and it was too big to belong to Amber, and it was stained with old dirt stains.
Frank made his way back toward the living room, holding the sock, and was about to ask Amber’s who the sock belonged, when suddenly, upon entering the living room, he stopped and let the sock drop to the ground; and why?
Because draped across the couch was his leather jacket, which he remembered hanging up on the coat stand.; and there was absolutely no sign of Austin.
“Oh shit,” Frank said, as he realized where his son was.
--
The USS Enterprise, in high orbit of Earth.
Austin stood absolutely still on the Transporter pad he had materialized on just seconds before, as the strange alien he saw over at the Transporter’s control panel stared at him with equal trepidation.
“Ummm,” Austin said, “hello?”
The alien blinked its two large eye lids.
“Zhheeem’da, zhheeem’da,” the alien responded with a high pitched voice.
Continued...
