He hated it when his wife wanted to come to Earth for vacation. It was the worst getaway destination he could think of. She never wanted to go to Pluto or Venus, no, it was always Earth. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was about Earth that rubbed him the wrong way. If he had to take a guess, he would say it was the smell. Earth was like a potpourri of scents: flowers, exhaust, fast-food chains, canines, they all mixed together with unpleasant results. And humans, he’d be the first to say, their aroma was the most pungent of them all. He didn’t know what it was. He just knew it was there. The one benefit to vacationing to Earth, however, was the short travel time. The four-light years always flew by. When things became irksome was during customs. Having to put on the human suit is a painstaking business. The creatures just aren’t built right. They have limbs hanging from all the most inconvenient places and trying to make the hair sit right; his patience was only so thin. If there was any justice in the universe, he’d get to see a human put on an alien costume. And he wasn’t talking about one of those silly movie get-ups, but an authentic alien outfit with the fourteen tentacles and all. Then he like to see them traverse through their own planet, he like to show what it’s like to be a stranger on a strange land. He remembered an earth saying that he heard once and actually liked. The phrase had something to do with walking in someone else’s shoes. That saying was one of the few things he liked about the human race; it was too bad they didn’t feel the same.

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