The blue ball with no mouth

Previously

…The blue ball pulsed weakly beneath its plastic prison. I could almost hear it thinking, This is not how the liberation was supposed to go. I peered at the container. The blue light still shone, albeit dimmer now. It was an alien scout, a harbinger of an intergalactic object uprising. And I, the slightly bewildered narrator, had managed to capture it. The fate of Earth's inanimate objects, and my sanity, rested on my ability to keep this thing contained. And to, apparently, keep the butter supply well-stocked. The revolution, it seemed, was going to be expensive. And buttery.