LXII. like a buzzin bee on crack broski

The Little Martian buzzes.

“I’m a busy busy bee, with places to go, people to meet, and things to see!” he sing-songs, as he zips left, right, and center, overwhelming my page like it’s his very own stage.

“Slow down, Little Martian,” I warn, “what goes up must come down.”

The Martian looks at me with a quizzical expression and then rolls his eyes with an exaggerated flourish.

“That’s the problem with you humans. You always assume the worst.”

“They’re like safety measures—expectation managers.”

“What? The pessimism?”

“Exactly.”

“So you guys are cowards then?”

“Not cowards. Pragmatic thinkers. Paragons of balance. Rational beings!”

“Scaredy poos, afraid of getting hurt and failing?”

“That too.”

The Martian snorts.

“You’ll understand for yourself soon enough.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Learn?”

“No, bend to the laws of your stupid human reality.”

“But everyone has to.”

“Every human has to.”

The Little Martian makes a good point.

“So what are you going to do then? Just keep hurtling into things head-on, burning out and getting hurt? Like some kind of extraterrestrial wreck?”

“Thought you idiots loved a good meteor shower,” replies the Little Martian with a silly smile.

“It just isn’t sustainable,” I remind him.

“Ditch sustainable. The Earth’s on fire and we’re all going to die anyway!”

“But we still have to try to make it work.”

“Goddamn capitalists?”

“No. We just have to try.”

“Another one of your laws of reality?”

“Survival?”

“If that’s what you want to call it. I prefer thrive-ival.”

It’s my turn to snort now.

“Where’d you get that?”

“The Paris Hilton cooking show. What a remarkable young Martian!”

"Paris Hilton isnt a martian LM! " I laugh at him.

He looks around, shifty eyed and then backtracks.

"Riiight."

I frown but drop the topic. The Martian shrugs and pops a palmful of peanut butter M&Ms into his mouth.

I do the same. Its divine. Maybe he’s onto something with this thrive-ival crap.