Scorched Earth, Alien Wonders

Another thrilling week passed on the hotplate of Suburbia. Qualdron kept telling us to be patient, because his information stated that people existed near this only remaining prairie dog town, which was curious, because no PD living in Suburbia knew a damn thing about humans living nearby and we had talked to every family in town.

Without touching a single nose.

At least, PD’s were interesting to hang out with, because they were a rare combination of social misfits, hard-working, fun-loving, eccentric souls, with kind and generous spirits. And we actually started looking forward to the nightly entertainment as much as they did, because it was one hellaciously hot and boring existence without it.

However, the quirky, town-folk had become quite enthralled with their taller cousins, and we were soon treated like celebrities in town. We didn’t know what story Daisy had told them, but I had to admit it was fun being handled like rock stars.

“Hey-o, top dog, Stanley-o!” some of the pups would call out when they saw me.

Or it would be silly stuff like, “hey, Fats, the funny man, Davis!” or “get down, it’s Shasta Brown!” or “is there a doctor in the house, Doc?” or “we don’t want no more than Gerry Moore!’”

But surprisingly, Jones was the biggest attraction. Everywhere he went pups would come up and ask for a ride on his back, which to his credit he always obliged. He would crawl around on all fours with half a dozen giggling pups riding on his back. Then he would hobble over to that ginormous, dead, rickety tree in town that cast a wee bit of shade, and he would fall over to let the pups hop onto the ground, while he played dead.

It was really a hoot and a half and they loved it.

But as observers, we were not prepared for just how much the town-folk emulated, and admired human behavior, which was a strange reality, considering the brutal treatment experienced by prairie dogs in the past at the hands of humans. That malice may have changed in recent times, but our sluggish investigation wasn’t even close to finding an answer for how enlightened the remaining human population might be toward helpless creatures.

A few nights later, my team and I, including Jones, went underground to join hundreds of other entertainment devotees at the Rabbit Hole for the nightly showcase. It was the most popular place in town and the most anticipated time of the day by all of us.

Buster, Sally and their feisty pups sat shoulder-to-shoulder with all their neighbors to watch movies or TV shows on the computer screens sitting on a small ledge all around the compound wall.

We would sit in the back, so we wouldn’t block anyone’s view. Some of the programs we saw were loud and exciting...some were educational...some were flashy and interesting, while others were clearly a matter of opinion and personal taste.

There was one TV show the town-folk liked a lot called The Big Bang Theory that we found particularly puzzling. It was an early 21st century sitcom about a group of young oddball scientists with brainy, socially-inept, child-like, Sheldon Cooper as the main character.

“I don’t get it,” Moore said to me one night as we watched another Big Bang show from our back row position. “I find Cooper to be so obnoxious I want to bite him on the ear.”

“I think you mean ‘punch him in the nose’,” whispered Brown.

“I don’t know” said Jones “The other night Cooper suggested that people should trigger an explosion in their heads if they say stupid, ignorant things about science. A messy way to go maybe, but I kinda like it.”

“Sheldon annoys you?” whispered Davis to Moore. “I don’t get why that one little guy can’t talk to females without drinking an alcoholic beverage. He wouldn’t do well on Rosen at all.”

“Big Bang Theory isn’t about science as much as any show that features Neil deGrasse Tyson,” said Brown, putting in her 2 cents worth. “But sometimes lame fiction can be more fun than serious facts.”

Later that night, back at our burrow, we talked about the town-folk fascination with human entertainment.

“It’s truly puzzling,” offered Doc. “Their perception of people is based on fantasy, façade and make-believe.”

“Yeah, but over the years they have taught themselves the human language by watching those shows,” said Brown. “That demonstrates how intelligent they are as sentient beings.”

“That’s true,” Doc agreed, “and it won’t reflect well if humans are mistreating them. Gee...if only we could find out.”

I had been talking to Qualdron every few days, usually with little to report other than the latest humdrum dealings with Suburbia town-folk. But it was along about then...that something unexpected and bizarre started happening.