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Redneck

Bobby Miner

By DJ RobbinsPublished about 23 hours ago 3 min read
Redneck
Photo by Harrison Hargrave on Unsplash

Bobby Miner sat in his favorite chair, sipping hard cider and watching Wrestling. His wife and kids were asleep. Santa Claus entered carrying his sack over his shoulder. He let out a sigh as he looked at Bobby.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Santa said. Bobby looked over at Santa.

“That only goes for the kids,” parents can see you,” Bobby replied.

“You always were so sarcastic,” Santa said. Bobby took a sip of his cider and gave a half-hearted nod.

“Accurate.” Santa went about his business. He hummed as he stuffed stockings.

“Do you watch wrestling Santa?” Bobby asked.

“Not since the 80’s. Why?”

“Big Moose is about to deliver his dreaded finisher move to Al Snyder,” Bobby said. Santa looked at the television.

“That had to hurt,” Santa said.

“No doubt,” Bobby said. Santa went over to the coffee table and grabbed a cookie. He dunked it in a glass of milk. He took a bite and chewed it.

“Oatmeal raisin,” Santa said. “These are pretty good.”

“Samantha made those,” Bobby said.

“Tell her they are delicious,” Santa said.

Suddenly a space alien kicked in the front door and pointed his ray gun at Santa.

“What in a hill of beans are you?” Santa said. The alien shot him and froze him. Bobby ran over to his bedroom and grabbed his shotgun. He aimed and blasted the alien back to oblivion. It crashed on the floor. He picked up the ray gun and set it to defrost. He pointed it at Santa and shot it to unfreeze him. Santa shook his head and then noticed the dead alien on the floor.

“You killed it?” Santa asked. Bobby nodded.

“It froze you, Santa.”

“True,” Santa said. “There must have been another way.”

“Probably,” Bobby said. “But I had to defend myself.”

“I appreciate you saving my bacon; but I had to see a creature die on my account,” Santa lamented.

Bobby went outside and buried it in the backyard. He came back in a half hour later.

“This isn’t your first time burying an alien you’ve killed; is it,” Santa asked.

“Of course not,” Bobby said. “I’m a redneck. I get visited by a space alien about once a month.”

“Do you always shoot them?” Santa asked.

“I usually chase them off,” Bobby replied.

“I might actually take that ray gun,” Santa said. “I could freeze sodas instantly and defrost my Thanksgiving turkey instantly,” Santa said. He picked up the ray gun and placed it in his bag.

“Merry Christmas,” Santa said.

“Merry Christmas,” Bobby replied. Santa left and Bobby fell asleep.

When he woke up, he was surrounded by aliens. They carried bobby off to an alien spaceship. It took off and rocketed him off to another planet. He was placed in a human zoo. The plaque on his door read: “Redneck.” He sat in his chair and watched Naskar. An alien family watched Bobby through the observation glass.

“He looks so sad Daddy,” the space child said.

“He probably misses his family, son,” the alien dad said.

“Where’s his family Dad?” The son asked.

“His family is all the way back on Earth,” the dad said.

“Do you think he’ll ever be reunited with his family?” the son asked.

“The zookeeper told me they would be adding his family to the display sometime next week,” the dad said.

“Can we feed them?” the son asked. The father said:

“No feeding the humans. It’s zoo policy,” The son let out a sigh and tapped on the glass. He waved at Bobby.

“Merry Christmas,” the alien youth said. Bobby cowered. He was not used to his new habitat.

HumorShort Story

About the Creator

DJ Robbins

Screenwriter and poet and horror enthusiast. I also write horror fiction.

Tip me at the link below.

https://buy.stripe.com/6oU6oIcfHfD323F9E5fIs00

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