The principal’s office at Albert Bacon Fall Middle School was quite welcoming, its mustard yellow walls decorated by pictures of smiling students, colorful world maps and red and gold pennants featuring the ABF Teapots’ short and stout mascot.
Even the chairs reserved for parents were a cheery blue, and situated in front of a modest, laminate desk covered with knickknacks. So, to see the school principal – Dewey Kankle – with a serious frown on his face certainly changed the vibe.
Michael and Mary Smith had been called to his office to discuss some artwork rendered by their son, Michael Jr., who everyone called Mike. The youngster had been a model student since joining the school at the start of the year, making straight A’s and managing to be well-liked among just about all of his classmates whether they were in the sixth, seventh or eighth grade.
His parents couldn’t imagine what prompted the meeting – and the principal’s concern.
“Mr. and Mrs. Smith, thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me today,” Kankle said while shuffling several drawing papers. “I’m sure you’re both busy, but I just felt it was important to address this now and head off a potential problem before it becomes a full blown crisis.”
Michael, with a confused look on his face, leaned over in his chair.
“I don’t understand, Mr. Kankle. From everything we hear from Mike, things are going great here. I mean, he’s never made anything less than an A, has he? Plus, he does a lot of extracurriculars and has quite a few friends.”
“Oh, he’s a magnificent student,” Kankle said. “Smart as a whip. And according to his science teacher, his knowledge in that particular discipline is off the charts – far beyond that of most 12-year-olds. But as upsetting as it might be, you need to look at these drawings.”
Kankle handed several sheets of paper to the couple, who looked at them one by one.
“Well,” Mary said. “this looks like a pretty representative sample of what Mike draws in his spare time. He really enjoys detailing the figures, and he prides himself on making freehanded circles. Is he doing this in other classes and causing a disruption? Do his teachers think he’s not paying attention?”
The figures had large, winding horns, long, black tails and cloven hooves. The circles encased a five-pointed star.
Kankle’s eyes widened as he looked at the parents.
“Do you … do you seriously not realize what your son is drawing?” he asked, incredulously.
“Yeah, I mean … sure,” Michael said. “He’s just drawing figures and geometric symbols. He’s been doing this for as long as we can remember, and he’s getting really good at it.”
“Figures? Geometric symbols? Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” Kankle said, his voice rising, “What your son is drawing are demons and pentagrams. Now, far be it from me to tell anyone how to raise their child, but once his art teacher saw these and passed them to me, it raised a huge red flag. To you, it might seem harmless – drawing figures and symbols, as you say. To me, however, it’s planting the seeds of Satanism. Today, he’s just drawing. But the next thing you know, he’s listening to Black Sabbath, disemboweling cats and sacrificing virgins.”
Mary and Michael burst out in laughter.
“Oh, my goodness, Mr. Kankle,” Mary said. “We don’t mean to laugh – or be disrespectful – but you’ve got it all wrong. That’s not what he’s drawing. At all. Of course, now that you mention it, I could see where you’d make the mistake.”
“There’s no mistake!” Kankle huffed. “Show this to any human, and they’ll tell you what’s on that paper are demons and pentagrams!”
“Fair point,” Michael said. “Look, we might as well be honest with you, Mr. Kankle. Humans might mistake these for demons and pentagrams, but to inhabitants of Fundor – I think your astronomers call it TOI-715 b – these images represent something else entirely. The creatures you say are demons are actually Corbin Beasts, which populate a large portion of our planet. They’re also great pets, similar to your dogs and cats. Here, this is the one we have at home, Goobus Boo.”
Michael raised his right hand, squeezed his seven fingers together and produced a hologram – one which showed an image of Mike and Goobus Boo throwing an orb back and forth.
Kankle sat in stunned silence as Michael opened his hand and the hologram disappeared. The Smiths then got up and moved toward the door.
“Oh, and about the pentagram thing …” Mary said. “That’s just what the underside of our spacecraft looks like. What you think signifies demons is just a transportation symbol to us. But you can see for yourself on Sunday night around, oh, 10 o’clock … that’s when the invasion begins, so a whole fleet will be filling the skies.
”Anyway, don’t worry about Mike. He’s a good kid.”