The Stranger WC:300

The Stranger

I looked around the room at the strange goings-on.

"What's going on here?” I asked in my polite voice.

“Whadda mean, what’s goin’ on?” one of the strangers asked.

I was puzzled. I was asking an honest, sincere question in his native tongue.

“I meant what I said, or I would not have said it, sir.”

“You been here the whole friggin’ time, Buttercup!” He approached.

“Is Buttercup favorable or unfavorable?” I asked.

“You some kinda wise guy?”

“I am wise.”

He pushed me. I thought being wise was a good thing. How could I explain to him I was puzzled by his discourse? He would never understand.

“What's your beef?” added another stranger, a rather large one.

He joined the smaller-boned man.

I knew that beef was a type of meat, but this made no sense.

“You deaf?” the first man said.

“My hearing is very acute,” I answered.

“Then answer the man, Buttercup!” said the tiny man.

There was that Buttercup moniker again. My conclusion? It was not a compliment.

“For the last time, what's your beef?” the larger man asked, only with increased volume.

“What is your beef?” I could think of nothing else to say.

He was so close I could smell his exhalation. “What did you say, Buddy?”

This designation also seemed derogatory.

“I asked you what your beef was?” I repeated.

He knocked me down; I stayed down and curled up for safety as I had been taught.

I watched them from my safe place as they continued to jump up and down and scream, looking at this large rectangular screen. They were watching men in helmets running around kicking and throwing a sphere; these helmeted men were tackling each other rather viciously. Barbaric.

I wanted to go home.

"Someone beam me up, please," I whispered into Space.