While the crew from Two Brothers and a Wiggle Wagon were unloading furniture onto the driveway of 513 Solidago Drive, Pablo Kahlo and Mio Kusama were already on the porch swing, eying spots for their rockers and side tables. The couple had spent the previous week bringing in a few items at a time, so their new abode was already taking shape on move-in day.
Once the workers got everything off the truck and into the two-story house, it would simply be a matter of shuffling and adjusting before it looked like a home.
“So,” Pablo said, eying the chairs, “should they be facing this way, so we can see the sunrise, or that way, for the sunset?”
Mio picked up a rocker and then sat it back down.
“We can do both,” she said. “They aren’t heavy, so we’ll just move them where we want them when we want them there. As tired as I already am, though, we won’t need to aim ‘em at the sunset tomorrow. I plan to be in a deep snooze when day breaks.”
They got up and peeked at the movers’ progress, but before they could survey the situation they were greeted by a thunderous – yet friendly – “Howdy!”
A large man with a shock of red hair trundled up the steps with his right arm in full wave-mode.
“I’m George from across the street … welcome to the neighborhood!”
Mio smiled and extended her hand.
“Hi, George … happy to be here. I’m Mio and this is Pablo. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, you’re gonna love it here,” George gushed. “All the neighbors are super nice … got a good mixture of young folks, older folks, kids. And I hope you like cats because this place is crawling with kitties. You won’t have to worry about chipmunks, that’s for sure. What line of work are you guys in, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Mio is a sculptor and I do a little painting,” Pablo said. “We just really love this area – it’s outside the city a bit and has lots of trees. Figured we could find some inspiration here.”
George glanced at the movers and noticed they were almost finished.
“You two have to be worn out with all this moving,” he said. “And that’s why I want you to come over for dinner tonight. We’re always cooking … we have three smokers in the backyard. My wife, Elitha, is a real chef – as my belly can attest – and we figure the best way to welcome new neighbors is to have ‘em over. Whaddya say?”
“I say that’s very sweet of you, George, and we’d be delighted,” Mio answered with a smile. “Give us a time and Pablo and I will be there … and we’ll even bring the wine.”
George gave a thumbs-up and headed toward the steps.
“Seven o’clock,” he said. “So happy you accepted … see you then!”
Mio waited until George was out of earshot and chuckled.
“He has no idea what we are,” Mio said. “You can always spot a Cannibalian. When they look at you and start talking about food, the pupils of their eyes turn red. Humans can’t notice it, but Artisans can.”
“When we first got here, I could smell those smokers,” Pablo added. “Definitely human flesh. George thinks he’s gonna kill us and eat us, and we’re gonna have to disappoint him. Almost makes me feel sorry for him.”
Mio walked inside the house, spotted a box, opened it and pulled out what appeared to be a cannister of insect repellent.
“I’ll blast ‘em with this as soon as they open the front door,” she said. “It’s made for Anamniotians, but it should work on primates, too. Their skin will melt away within just a few seconds, and I’ll have some new bones for my yard art project.”
Pablo leaned on the railing of the veranda and looked around.
“We have Cannibalians across the street, we’re from Planet Artisa … I wonder how many other extraterrestrials are in the neighborhood?”
“Well,” she said, “I imagine there are quite a few … not having an HOA is a big draw for us outworlders.”
Mio checked the nozzle on the cannister.
“But there’ll be at least two less later on tonight. Anyway, why don’t you tip the movers and I’ll go inside and try to find a bottle of wine.”
The pair of workers – Buck and Biff – were already back in the truck when Pablo thanked them and handed them each a 20 dollar bill.
“Appreciate you guys,” he said. “Be safe.”
As Buck pulled away, he exhaled.
“Looks like we pulled it off,” he said, looking at Biff. “Uncle George and Aunt Elitha said after the new couple falls into the trap under their walkway, it’ll take a while for ‘em to roast. So it’s still a few hours before dinner.”
“It’ll be worth the wait,” Biff said. “Artisans are delicious … they taste just like humans.”
