Alien in the Family

Martini bent down and put his hand out. The quivering thing sniffed, then crawled into his palm. He pulled me to my feet with his other hand.
    “What is it?”
    “I think . . .” He dug his phone out. “Christopher, sorry, where are you? Oh, good. Look, do you remember that pet thing your mom used to tell us about? Yeah, that. What did it look like, and how big? Amazing. Yeah, I think I’m holding one. Get down here, will you?”
    “So that’s a Tribble?”
    “Huh?”
    Oh, right. They weren’t into science fiction, humorous or otherwise. Guess all the shows and movies were too much like documentaries. I decided not to try to explain. “It’s not dangerous?” It didn’t look dangerous, but I’d seen enough movies. The probability it could go killer or instantly reproduce into the thousands seemed high.
    Of course, it looked a lot like a tiny kitten with really, really fluffy fur, only no ears and the eyes looked more like black buttons than cat’s eyes. And it had no tail. But otherwise, just like a fluffy kitten. Or a fluffy ball with tiny legs and paws. If it were a plush toy, it would be the hottest thing for Christmas with little girls. I wondered if Martini would get upset if I suggested we talk to Chuckie about starting a plush line and decided he would.
    “No, not dangerous that we were told.” Unlike Security, Christopher had used the real hyperspeed to get to us. “Wow, Kitty, you’re dressed. I was getting used to the negligee look.”
    “It’s an outfit. For wearing out to clubs.”
    “You’re okay with her wandering around naked?” he asked Martini.
    Martini shrugged. “I look at it as her using all the weapons at her disposal.”
    “One flash and he’s a changed man.” Christopher laughed. “Fine, no argument from me. So, how’d we get the pet?”
    “What’s it called?” I wanted an answer, since Tribble seemed out.
    “My mother called it a Poof.”
    I looked at them. “You’re kidding.”
    “No.” Christopher had the grace to look embarrassed. “It’s a stupid name, at least by Earth standards, I know.”
    Martini put the Poof into my hand. “Must be a girl’s pet.” He looked like someone had just tried to put hair bows and a tutu on him.
    “I tackled a guy, remember?”
    “What?” Christopher yelled. The Poof trembled.
    “Uh, I think you’re scaring it.”
    “Oh, great. Let’s get this thing back to its owner, shall we?” Martini turned to go, and the Poof leaped out of my hand.
    “Jeff!”
    The Poof landed on Martini’s shoulder as he was spinning back toward me. It looked happy there.
    “Why is this thing on me? Is it attacking and I just can’t tell?”
    “Um . . . no.” I got a funny feeling. “Wow. Your mom had one, Christopher?”
    “When she was little, yeah. I think it died or something. She didn’t bring it here.”
    The Poof looked at me and closed its eyes. I listened. Yep. “It’s purring.”
    “What?” Martini tried to look at the Poof by twisting his head, but it was so small, he really couldn’t see it. “Why is it purring?”
    “Um . . . I think it thinks it’s yours.”
    Christopher started to laugh.
    “Christopher? Just guessing, but I’ll wager there’s one of these waiting for you, too. Paul and Michael and their sisters might have one, too. One each.”
    Christopher stopped laughing. “What are you talking about?”
    “Corgis.”
    “What?” They both shouted. The Poof whimpered and tried to crawl under Martini’s collar.
    “Get this thing off me!” He was doing the there’s-something-crawling-on-me dance. I tried not to laugh. Failed.
    “Jeff, stop. It’s scared. Calm down, and it’ll calm down.” He did as requested and the Poof stopped trying to hide.
    “What did you mean by corgis?” Christopher asked.
    “The Queen of England has her corgis. I’m betting the A-C royal family has their Poofs.” Reader and I were going to have a field day with this when he was back up and running. “You know, the Royal Pet.”
    “Oh, my God. Kill me now, right now.” Martini sounded like he meant it.
    “Let’s get upstairs and see if I’m right.” I tried to sound soothing. The snickers probably didn’t help.
    “I’m remembering this for later,” Martini said darkly as I put the stuff back into my purse.
    “Jeff . . . wait. You said there was something alien in my purse.”
    “Oh, hell, right. This thing distracted me.” He grabbed my hand before I could touch the alien thing. “I think it’s a