Senga

She hadn’t chosen the name ‘Senga’. The Tour Guide had given it to her, along with a list of rules as long as her tail. It was just meant to be a little break from the daily grind, just her and her sister taking a tour of that weird little solar system out at the edge of the galaxy. 

After a longer-than-was-needed visit to that dull satellite which revolved around the planet, they had finally visited Earth itself. It wasn’t at all what she had been expecting. It smelt and was a lot dirtier than she had been led to believe. She’d talked to people who had done the very same tour, and most of them had an opinion on Earth. You either loved it or hated it.

Now she had no option. If her sister hadn’t dropped her medicine, and if her sister hadn’t asked her to pick it up. I mean they were all strapped in for a whiz around Mars. Senga (to give her, her Earthly handle) had unbuckled and ran out to get the medicine just as they took off. Without her.

She had no idea when they would return. So she had started walking along one of those highways that the humans push their metal cars along. One had stopped, and she was informed that the human driver’s name was Anthony (‘just call me ‘Tony’, babe’).

So she called him ‘Tony’ all the way back to town.

Tony was married with eleven children and would occasionally go for a drive in his car to get a break from shouting. It was fortunate that he happened to be driving past Senga at that particular time, as he had been looking for a lady-friend for his best pal Gerald.

Given that Senga wasn’t sure when the tourist module would be returning for her – if at all, she couldn’t remember ticking the insurance box about getting lost along the way – she decided she’d better make the best of it, and eventually (after a whirlwind romance) she got around to marrying Gerald.

Gerald was an ‘accountant’  - something they didn’t have where she came from, but then this planet Earth seemed to be full of lots of types of jobs that didn’t involve anything in particular. If these people and their jobs had inhabited the same planet as Senga – they would have been pushed down the Great Hole of Trident – with everyone cheering (relieved that it wasn’t them, this time).

Senga couldn’t get to grips with the life that Gerald had provided for her. It seemed to consist of Gerald working Monday to Friday, after which he went for a drink with his buddies. On Saturday, they both would watch a little box in the corner – and a thing called ‘Something’s Got Talent’ or very similar. Gerald would cry when the judges took too long to decide, or if the wrong person was sent home (the one who had a dying grandmother and the old woman was hanging on to dear life in order to see her grandson win this stupid contest).

Senga loved a Friday night when Gerald was out drinking, and she could take off that ridiculous costume, get it washed and ironed and slip it back on again - before Gerald came staggering, drunk on something called Gin, up the garden path. That would be when Gerald would get amorous and request a kiss from Senga (goodness, she didn’t even have the same organs as humans, so Gerald didn’t stand a chance). Instead, she would just give him the usual death grip and send him to his bed.

Tomorrow was Saturday, and there would be that man on the box in the corner – Simon Cowell – Senga was sure that he had been left behind too and that she had bumped into him on her planet.

It would explain a lot. 

bobby stevenson 2019