The Playground Star

Brian, the little Martian brain in a jar, found himself at the very center of a whirlwind of giggles and gasps. The swirling colors of the playground, so very different from the dusty reds of his home planet, seemed to sparkle just for him. His black and white spectator tap shoes, usually only heard echoing in the quiet Martian plains, now tapped out a cheerful rhythm against the soft, springy ground. It was a sound that made the children’s eyes widen like saucers.

A little girl with sunshine-yellow pigtails, who Brian had learned was named Lily, clapped her hands together. "Wow! You're really good!" she exclaimed, her voice like tiny bells. "I've never seen anything like it!"

Brian, who had been a little shy at first, wiggled his little alien arms with a surge of pride. He took a deep breath – or as deep a breath as a brain in a jar could manage – and offered a wobbly smile. He loved making people happy with his dancing. It was the best feeling in the whole universe, even better than a perfectly executed shuffle-ball-change.