FLASH FICTION – FOWC & RDP

Zog had traveled 27 light-years for this nonsense.

He’d battled through the fray of the Andromeda-Fermilab skirmishes, dodged a black hole that smelled suspiciously like burnt popcorn, and bribed a customs agent on Venus — all for what Earth’s glossy travel brochures promised: an authentic campfire night.

Now he sat paralyzed in a splintery lawn chair, staring at a pit of flaming sticks like they were a personal insult.

This is it? Zog blinked slowly. Fire. In a hole. Congratulations, Earth. You’ve reinvented the sun, but dumber.

The smoke was relentless. Shift left — it followed. Shift right — it hunted him like an ex with a grudge. His oxygen filters strained, and he already smelled like scorched pine and bad decisions.

Two Earth juveniles gawked at him from across the yard.

“Is he okay?” one whispered, chocolate smeared across his wrist.

“Maybe he’s meditating,” the other said, as if Zog was one deep breath away from achieving Nirvana.

No, Timmy, Zog thought grimly. I’m rethinking every life decision, starting with trusting Mon.

Ah, Mon — fellow traveler, distributor of lies. Earth girls are easy, Mon had said, smirking, right before getting ejected from a Martian dive bar. You’ll be knee-deep in interspecies romance before you can say, “Take me to your leader.”

So far, Zog hadn’t even been knee-deep in conversation. The only intimate contact he’d had was with the mosquito drilling into his forearm.

A marshmallow flung from a crooked stick splattered onto his lap, instantly fusing to his exosuit.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t dare.

Perfect, Zog thought. Now I’m paralyzed, smoke-drenched, and sticky. What an exotic species I must appear: a confused, flammable piñata.

Across the fire, someone strummed a guitar and began mumbling a song about truck beds and heartbreak. Zog stared blankly, mentally composing his one-star review.

Earth Girls: False Advertising. Fires: Aggressively Enthusiastic. Hospitality: Threat Level Marshmallow. Would Not Recommend.

Still, he thought, if he could survive the fray, he could survive this. Maybe even find a girl — though at this point he’d settle for someone who didn’t accidentally set him on fire.

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