When Cindy dropped a five dollar note into the hat of a beggar on the street corner, she had little idea who she was giving the money to.
Life is full of surprises and once in a blue moon a little act of kindness can lead to big things. The beggar wasn’t a beggar at all but was heavily disguised. He thanked Cindy for her kind donation, and Cindy couldn’t help but think that his voice and accent didn’t really match what she presumed was his situation in life.
“He sounds,” thought Cindy, “that he has had a rather expensive ivy-league education. It just goes to show that bad luck can befall anyone in life. Perhaps he is a fallen doctor. Or a failed lawyer. Perhaps he is a billionaire who has simply lost his way.”
Once a week Cindy continued to drop a five dollar note into the beggar’s hat. And then one day, the beggar decided to reveal his true identity. He stabbed Cindy there and then with his Swiss Army Pocket Knife. The beggar was none other than the highly-wanted murderous paedophile that had been plaguing the suburb for months.
Sometimes (quite often actually) I feel as if I’m being watched. It’s nothing really. It’s just that every time I go somewhere everyone and everything looks. In fact, once or twice I’ve put my hands into my pockets just to ascertain whether or not I remembered to put on my pants.
There’s nothing unusual about my appearance that I know of. I’m really quite ordinary to look at. In fact, when I left my home planet (somewhere up near Sirius – I’m not allowed to say) I thought the Department of Shape-Changing did a pretty good job of making me look like an ordinary Earthling.
But here on Earth it’s mainly the cows that stare. I know that the Crowdacians (they’re from a planet fairly close to mine, and they’re our greatest enemy) take on the appearance of a cattle beast. They’re so good at it that often I can’t tell a real cow from a Crowdacian. The Cow is one look that our Department of Shape-Changing has never been able to master.
So when I see a herd of cattle I stop. They all stare, and I shout: “Ha! Ha! Ha! Milking time! Go home! Milking time!” That usually sorts them out. The fake-cow-Crowdacians can’t stand that. They stamp their feet and drool at the mouth. So that’s one way I get to determine who is who.
But now I’m faced with a terrible conundrum. To make myself appear even more normal of a human being I got myself a pet cat. Every second Earthling seems to have a pet cat. And now I’ve discovered that my cat in fact is a Midconsevarian in disguise. At first I didn’t know where the planet was that Midconsevarians came from. But now I know and it’s not nice. I love my cat but have strict orders from my Department of Shape-Changing that I shouldn’t associate.
What am I to do? Everything and everyone stares. I love my pet cat. I want to go home. I asked to be relieved of this terrible cross (goodness, I seem to be taking on the language of an Earthling religion). I have been told that I am on a sixty year contract to stay on Earth.
So a warning to others: think twice before volunteering to do a spell on Earth. It can really suck.