Never Feed the Nrblabs

a children's story by Dustin Siegrist © 2016

I unexpectedly found some Nrblabs at the park one day, as I was walking home from school.  When I met them, they were sitting inside their spaceship, fumbling with their star maps -- looking lost and very hungry.  I decided I had better help them, because Nrblabs rarely visit the city, and I wanted to be a good friend.

I walked up to their hovering spaceship and knocked on the force-field window.

“Excuse me.” I said.  “You guys look hungry. Would you like to come to my house for some food?”

“Nrblab! Nrblab!” they all said.  So they hopped out of their space ship, and followed me toward my home. The Nrblabs seemed calm, enjoying the tall buildings, and other sights of the city.

Then suddenly, things went crazy…

“Nrblab! Nrblab!” the first one said, as I caught it trying to eat a bench.

“That’s not candy!” I yelled. “Stop eating that bench! There’s food at my house.”

“Nrblab! Nrblab!” the second one said, as I caught it trying to eat a red fire truck.

“That’s not an apple!” I shouted. “Stop eating that fire truck! There’s food at my house.”

“Nrblab! Nrblab!” the last one said, as I caught it trying to eat a mailbox.

“That’s not a blueberry!” I bellowed. “Stop eating that mailbox! There’s food at my house.”

After some work, I finally got them to my home and sat them down on my couch so they could get comfortable.  I took their food orders and headed into the kitchen to start preparing meals.  The Nrblabs seemed calm, just watching TV and reading magazines.

Then suddenly, things went crazy...

“Nrblab! Nrblab!” the first one said, as I caught it trying to eat a magazine.

“That’s not a potato chip!” I shrieked. “Stop eating that magazine! I’m making your food.”

“Nrblab! Nrblab!” the second one said, as I caught it trying to eat my television.

“That’s not a gumdrop!” I roared. “Stop eating my television! I’m making your food.”

“Nrblab! Nrblab!” the last one said, as I caught it trying to eat the couch cushions.

“That’s not a marshmallow!” I howled. “Stop eating the couch cushions! I’m making your food.”

I finally finished making the food, so I sat the Nrblabs down at my kitchen table.  They were looking very hungry, now, so I made sure to put the food right in front of them. I did not want them to eat anything they should not, like a cup or my table.  The Nrblabs seemed calm, just staring at the food and waiting.

I sat down at my seat and looked at my delicious chocolate cake.

“Bon appétit,” I said. “Let’s eat!”

Then suddenly, things went crazy...

“Nrblab! Nrblab!” the first one said, as it slapped its grilled salmon in its face.

“That’s grilled salmon!” I hollered. “You’re not supposed to slap it. You’re supposed to eat it!”

“Nrblab! Nrblab!” the second one said, as it poured its entire bowl of spaghetti down its pants.

“That’s a bowl of spaghetti!” I bawled. “You’re not supposed to sit in it. You’re supposed to eat it!”

“Nrblab! Nrblab!” the last one said, as it squeezed its peanut butter sandwich under its armpit.

“That’s a peanut butter sandwich!” I screeched. “You’re not supposed to wear it. You’re supposed to eat it!”

Half of my street had been devoured, because of the Nrblabs.  Half of my living room had been devoured, because of the Nrblabs. And now, there was a huge mess in my kitchen, because of the Nrblabs. There was no use trying to stop them.

Then suddenly, I realized the silly answer.

“If you can’t beat them… eat them.” I coined.

Then I pressed my own face deep into my delicious, chocolaty, icing filled cake.

I guess I had learned my lesson.  It’s not as fun when you never feed the Nrblabs.