Reproduce

Pa is outside feeding the refugees, again. It was actually Momma’s turn but she has a migraine and is laying down. They’re such ugly creatures. Looking at them makes my head hurt, too. Hairless and pink in weird places. How they don’t just crisp in the suns I will never understand. They definitely don’t possess the protection our green skins give us. But, I suppose that’s what has landed them here. The last survivors of an extinct species. And they sure enough earned their near-extinction.

We had visited them before, on their blue orb. We had warned them. In their arrogant self-absorption, they thought they knew better. “Global warming,” they scoffed in their odd sounds. “No such thing.” And they chose not to listen. Not to change. And they would continue to burn their coal, kill their atmosphere, their ozone, their water, themselves.

For some reason, Pa saw a potential in these fragile beings. So he brought some home. Like a stray pet. Well, three stray pets. He said it was perfect because they can replicate. Or repeat. Or re-something or other. And this time, he says, this time we can teach them … hopefully.

Being as their possible intelligence is buried underneath their horribly inflated egos and centuries of willful ignorance and stupidity, I personally think it isn’t worth the extra mouths to feed. But Pa has always been such a scientist at heart. I just hope he is prepared for the time this is going to take. Undoing this type of extreme belief that everything should and will be handed to them, that they’re “entitled” as the most intelligent (that’s a laugh in itself) beings this side of the Milky Way is just … it’s an endeavor, to say the least. But if anyone can handle it, it’ll be Pa.

He does worry though. He worries that the lack of nutrients and clean water may have affected their reabsorption … re- … that capability in them. To make more. I guess only time will tell.