Marscegenation

I wrote a sci-fi story once –
not at all my genre –
about a colony of green snails
living life on Mars.
If you can take the lisping,
bad puns and the like,
I’ll let you read my story –
don’t say you haven’t been warned.

Marscegenation 

‘Do you think there’s intelligent life out there anywhere?’ The three diminutive creatures were chatting during the appointed social interaction period before sleep. 

‘Well, if there is, I hope it doethn’t look like uth,’ responded the green fellow with the lisp.

‘Why ever not?’ asked Swarc.

‘I thuppothe they might do,’ replied Cecil.  ‘But it’th highly unlikely.  ‘Anyway, there must be something out there,’ broke in Oga.  ‘Have you heard the latest?  The Watchers have reported peculiar things circling us day and night.  I hope they don’t crash into us.’

‘Don’t thay that Oga.  I shan’t thleep at all if I’m worrying about uth getting annihilated.”

‘Oh, I don’t think it will be that bad.  if they are intelligent beings, they will be as interested in us as we are in them.   I dare say they will land softly on the low clouds and climb down to see what we’re about.’

And so it turned out.  After weeks of  speculation the Martians woke one morning to see three silver creatures coming towards the sleeping pod.

‘I don’t know about you Swarc and Cecil, but I’m going to have a closer look.’

‘Gosh you are brave, Oga.  They might want to eat you.’

 ‘Would you fanthy uth?  Hard outthide and thquishy inthide.’

So the three friends crept out of the pod and inched towards the rock barrier which surrounded the commune. 

                                                                   *
The three space-suited humans wondered whether to go any further.

            ‘I don’t like the look of that thing over there. I saw something moving  away from it.  What d’you think?’

            ‘Well, whatever it ith, it’th awfully thmall’  lisped Elspeth, the first woman astronaut to land on another planet.  The companions clumped across the dusty terrain towards the creatures.  Gradually the green beings became clearer.

            ‘Look, there’s nothing to be frightened of, Elspeth.  They’re only snails.  They can’t do us much harm, can they?’  The leader, Justin, reassured his colleagues.

            ‘Yes, I think we can safely approach for a closer look,’ agreed Bruce.

            Soon the vast difference in size became evident. 

Oga spoke up.  ‘What are you doing here? What do you want?’

            ‘My God, they speak Earthian,’  thundered Justin. ‘What on Earth are you?  Sorry, I’ll rephrase that.  What on Mars are you?  You look just like our snails, only you’re green.’

‘Oh Juthtin,’ piped up Elspeth.  ‘Aren’t they thweet? ‘

‘Sweet?  That’s not the adjective I would have chosen,’  laughed Bruce.

            At the sound of Elspeth’s murdered sibilants, Cecil slithered towards her.  ‘You talk jutht like me.  My name’th Thethil, what’th yourth       

 ‘Hello, Thethil.  My name’th Elthpeth            ‘Oh Elthpeth. It’th wonderful to hear you.  Do you think we were made for each other?’

            ‘I think tho, Thethil.’

            ‘Oh, Elthpeth, I do like your thilver thkin.’

This is for yesterday’s Where in the World prompt at the Poet’s Pub.