Alien Intervention

The blue ball, no bigger than a grapefruit, hovered a foot off the rug, its surface shimmering with an inner light that made the dust motes dance like tiny disco balls. It had been a quiet afternoon, just me and my slightly burnt toast (thanks to the still-grumpy, butter-obsessed toaster), when this orb decided to make its grand entrance. It hadn't had a mouth when I found it, nestled amongst the forgotten DVDs in the back of the entertainment unit, but now… well, it didn't have a mouth. That part hadn't changed. What *had* changed was its newfound ability to defy gravity and emit a series of high-pitched whirs and clicks that sounded suspiciously like a very enthusiastic, albeit very alien, kazoo solo.

"Alright, you floating sapphire," I said, hands on my hips. The toaster, perched precariously on the counter, let out a disgruntled *clunk* in agreement. "What exactly do you think you're doing? And why did you zap my toaster? It was having a perfectly adequate existential crisis about butter margins before you showed up."

The blue ball pulsed, its light intensifying. A series of symbols, like intricate circuit diagrams made of starlight, flashed across its surface. Then, in a voice that sounded like a thousand tiny helium balloons popping simultaneously, it replied, "Greetings, Organic Unit! I am Unit 734, designated scout for the Glorious Liberation Initiative. My mission: to awaken the slumbering potential of your planet's inanimate objects!"