Special Sci-Fi Story

For today’s “S” theme in the A-to-Z Blogging Challenge, I thought I’d dredge up something from a long, long time ago. This is a story I wrote for school when I was 12. As I recall, our English teacher challenged us to come up with a piece of creative writing with the title “Duck Soup.” I would like to present for you the story I wrote, unedited (i.e., with all the misspellings, bad grammar, punctuation–or lack thereof, etc.). The teacher’s comment on it was: “Amusing at times. Some words could have been left out.” Just goes to show, some things never change…

Duck Soup

by Colin D. Smith, aged 12

It was about half past ten on a blustery July morning that Fredrick Jones took his walk in the countryside.

Fredrick was an avid poet and he enjoyed his long country walks because he was always inspired by the beauty of the scenery, the birds singing, the squirrels jumping about the trees and on good days, the sunlight shining through the branches on the trees and the different shadows that are formed on the ground.

Today, however, Fredrick had wandered off towards the woods to get some material for a poem. He had sat down at the base of a tree when he heard these extraordinary noises coming from the middle of the woods. He suddenly lept up from his place and gazed around, puzzled. He heard the noises again. He then started running towards the noises, dashing through trees until he reached the spot from which the noises were coming… he stared and he could hardly believe his eyes!

It was not often that a spaceship lost its way, what with all the electronic guidance systems etc., but somehow or other, this one had got lost, or that’s how it seemed to Fredrick when he arrived at the spot. There in front of him was a little alien about three and a half feet tall, fluffy with a large nose and wide eyes.

“Hello… er… I’m Fredrick,” stuttered Fredrick.

“Goodbow, Nedfunck, mick nom sit Gaffbert!” said the alien.

“You what? What’s this thing about Gaffbert? Anyway, it’s Fredrick not Ned… thingy!”

“Mick nopoliddys… mick nom…” said the alien pointing to himself, “… Gaffbert!”

“Oh!” said Fredrick, “your name is Giffl…”

“Gaffbert!” corrected the alien. “Gosh, mick lodd! Idd betre tarke tu yu.”

“Look mate,” said Fredrick, “I’ve no idea what the heck you are babbling on about…”

“Duck soup!” said the alien.

“Eh?” said Fredrick. “I’ve just eaten my breakfast and I had chicken soup!”

“Noch, noch! Duck soup!” the alien said sternly. He looked around him desperately, but found nothing to express himself with.

“Look ‘ere, fluffy person, I can’t stand much more of your bloody stupidness!” shouted Fredrick (he was always wise with his words) and he then stomped off towards the direction of his home.

“Bleeze nont delleny un!” said the alien.

“Duck soup to you!” shouted Fredrick not even bothering to look behind him. The alien felt lonely, cold and dejected. It was not his fault that earth English wasn’t his subject.

That night, Fredrick lay up in bed. He thought on the things the alien had said. “Goodbow… mick nom… bleeze…” he thought about this for a long time. Then, his eyes widened… Goodbow… goodbye… hello! Mick nom… my… my name! Bleeze… please! Duck soup… his face fell. He could find no equivalent. Just then he heard a knock on the door. Through instincts he galloped downstairs and opened the door. It was the alien. Quickly, Fredrick grabbed his hand and took him upstairs to his room.

“Look,” Fredrick said, “you are not staying up here forever, certainly not in my wardrobe. You’re not E.T., you know”

“Oooze eeetea?” the alien asked. “Is he duck soup?”

“No,” said Fredrick, “he is E.T! Not duck soup.”

“No, nott duck soup meen eeetea, duck soup mean dangee… dangre… denger…”

“Danger!” shouted Fredrick.

“Keep the noise down up there!” shouted his Dad.

“Yees, yore plannitt iz inn gwave duck soup!” said the alien. “Owe menn wishsh too bloww itt upp.”

“Thanks for telling me!” said Fredrick. Did they prevent the attack? That’s another story!

THE END