Online Honesty [Sketchnotes]

Aguilera, Diana. "Are We More Honest Online? It Depends." Stanford Magazine, September 2018 Issue.

Caterpillar

From the egg to cocoon, a caterpillar has a challenging life. It crawls its way out of the egg, eating the shell and whatever is edible in its surroundings. The caterpillar has legs to move with yes, but they’re so short that the most efficient way to move is to undulate its body like a worm while guided by the legs.

It will crawl and grow until it wraps itself in a new shell. If it’s really unlucky, it might not make it to rest in a cocoon, but not without trying its hardest to live. A caterpillar is not a good meal. It made sure of that by covering itself with prickly hair and spikes. A brightly colored caterpillar might even warn off predators by saying, ‘Hey, I’m dangerous. Don’t eat me!’

Then when the time draws nearer and nearer, the caterpillar experiences an innate urge. It is so ready to fly, to soar, to flutter — but it does not have wings yet. 

Still, it will find the next best thing. It climbs the tallest object. It searches for the hight point, to feel the wind blowing and the threat of falling to lower ground. It will not fall, it will never fall, its grip is too strong for that, but it is the same feeling nonetheless as flying. What is flying if not the threat of falling, but averting it at the last moment.

So it climbs and climbs, up poles and trees, up flowers and branches and unwitting humans. It continues to feed on leaves and smaller bugs, but it is prepared for the next stage of its journey.

It is ready.

It continues to climb higher, but only to find a sturdy home — a temporary home. When it finds that spot, it rests, it scouts, it stakes the ground and says ‘This is where I’ll be.’

The process of spinning a cocoon is slow but vital. It needs to be strong and waterproof. It has to be right on the first try. The caterpillar will not fail. 

It hangs upside down like a bat, starting from the tail and working its way to the antennae. Round and round it goes, building the cocoon one thread at a time, layers upon layers. 

By the time the caterpillar finishes, it is inside a fortress of its own making, undergoing a transformation that it awaited so eagerly. It is here that the life of a caterpillar ends and the life of a Butterly begins.

Stick a Foot In the Mouth

I found a prompt on a writing bingo to write about a character who keeps sticking their foot in their mouth. My only thought was literally or figuratively? Why not both?!

          "Oi! Stop that!"
          The black dog happily ignored Richard's command and continued chewing his hind foot. Par for course, no one listened to Richard.
          "Excuse me?"
          ... Shit!
          No listened to Richard except when he says something inflammatory in a meeting. And it just so happened that even though he was at home, he was in a virtual meeting ... with 10 of his co-workers and his boss ... and he had forgotten to mute himself.
          "No no no. Not you! It's someone on my end. Sorry I forgot to mute myself." Cheeks flaming, Richard bit his lip to prevent himself from word-vomiting and hoped that they would take his apologies and continue as if nothing had happened.
          "Right ... Okay, moving on. Sabrina, please update us on what the markets are ..."
          The meeting continued and Richard took notes on topics to follow up later. He only spoke a couple of times to ask a question or add agreement.
          Everything was going well until the black dog got up and walked to the door. Richard took no notice of this, but if he had he would have know that the mail truck was trundling up the street. If he knew the mail truck was trundling up the street, he would have muted himself after finishing his report on his advertisement report.
          As it was, just as his boss was commenting on some improvement to make, the dog released a ferocious growl and started barking up a storm.
          "Dog! Shut up!" Richard yelled to be heard over the din. The dog stopped barking temporarily to look at Richard, then turned back and resumed a low-rumbling growl.
          Richard sighed in relief as that was less disruptive than the frenzied barking earlier.
          His short-lived relief shattered abruptly when he realized there were no more human voices. Even in gallery view, where his boss took up 1/12th of the screen, that raised manicured eyebrow conveyed so much hidden meaning. Richard could feel a drop of sweat running down his ears and he absently wondered if he should open a window.
          "... I'm so sorry. That was not meant for you to hear."
          A few of his coworkers were respectfully not looking at the camera or dutifully reading papers that covered their whole face.
          The boss had a severe frown, but nodded. "Noted. Do I need to repeat any of my suggestions?"
          "No ma'am." Richard tried not to curl into himself and remembered to mute himself this time.
          The dog ceased growling and walked to Richard's feet, looking like the innocent angel he was most definitely not.
          Richard glanced at the dog and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Stop getting me into trouble pooch."
          Out of paranoia, Richard double-checked that he was muted. He felt some tension leeched away when he saw the red crossed out microphone.
          The meeting continued with no further incident on Richard's end. They were wrapping up with summarization of action items and a check-in with each participant to see how they were feeling. Richard answered "warm" without any problem and started to think that just maybe he can escape this meeting relatively intact. There were only two more participants and the boss to go.
          While the first participant was going, the dog started growling at Richard. Richard checked the mute button. It was still on. The second participant went. The dog barked. Maybe he needs to go to the toilet, thought Richard, making a mental note to take out the dog once the meeting ended.
          Finally, it was the boss's turn. The dog ran out of patience and leapt into Richard's lap in plain view of the camera. The dog made a point of sniffing out the keyboard for the crumbs of Richard's lunch.
          "Ack! No no no! Dog off! Bad dog! No treat for you!"
          His threats were useless against the dog who had never had a problem smooching food from Richard.
          Richard finally moved the dog enough to see the screen and his boss's face-of-disapproval. Not only did his boss noticed the dog on the screen, but somehow the dog turned off the mute. He cringed, already mentally composing an apology email, pleading for forgiveness.
          He held his breath as his boss had yet to speak.
          "Amused." And then something happened that was rumored only to exist in legend. The lips of his boss quirked up before resuming a professional line. "That's it for today. You all know what to do. Stay safe and I'll see you Thursday."
          The conference called ended without further ado. Richard collapsed back on his chair, absentmindedly petting the dog on his lap.
          He looked at the dog who was chewing his back foot again. He tugged the foot away from the dog, "Don't try to get me fired again, okay?"
          The dog just gave him the puppy eyes that pinky-promised to never chew on furniture again, but nevertheless the furniture will still get chewed.

          -LL

Orion, the Heat Machine

How the dog clears the room ...

Silent, but deadly ...

The Solution is Cookies!

Prompt from Writer's Digest like 3 or 4 years ago. Unfortunately I forgot exactly who and when it was written because I dug this story while cleaning out my computer. I often used Writer's Digest prompts to speed write something in 30 minutes, so I tried to keep what I wrote while cleaning up grammar and thoughts. 

Prompt: To get the story straight, Dave, we think, has become a chicken. Just the worst of luck with that guy. Tom is claiming he married the futon that’s now covered in yogurt, Carl is on the chandelier with the dog and you just walked in after getting groceries. What the heck happened here?

        This was to be the party of the century.

Introduce Lucia, party, grocery run, etc.

I opened the door with the huge bags of groceries, and a fantastic sight hit my eyes.  My house was in complete disarray. A chicken ran around in circles underneath a swaying chandelier. Carl somehow was perched on the chandelier with the dog under his arms, screaming “Bloody hell!” and stuff like that. Only slightly less bizarre than the chicken and Carl, Tom sobbed at the futon, which was covered in blueberry yogurt. Dave was no where to be seen.

“What the heck happened here?” In my surprise, I dropped the bag with the eggs. The carton cracked open, spilling and breaking eggs aplenty. The chicken, pardon, rooster, was not pleased with this and ran into the kitchen.

“Don’t eat Dave!” Carl yelled at me.

I opened and closed my mouth, before gathering enough sense to ask, “What? And why is there a chicken in here?”

“Dave is the chicken. Don’t eat him!”

“Tom! Can you explain anything to me?”

Tom kept sobbing, moaning, “Oh! My beautiful Ikea. What a wretched state you are in now!” Then he proceeded to do the weirdest thing that I have ever seen the Vulcan man do - he proceeded to kiss the futon and whisper all shorts of amorous poems.

I pointed out that he was kissing a futon, he snapped, “She’s more than a futon. She’s a queen.”

Exasperated, I picked up the groceries and proceeded into the kitchen. “Dave, where are you? I need some help and a sanity check for Tom and Carl!” The rooster came in again, bawking and flapping his wings as if attempting to communicate something. I briefly considered that maybe Dave was the rooster, but quickly pushed it out of thought as there was no possible way that a human could become a rooster.  

I went back to the living room, determined to get to the bottom of this, or at least get Carl and the dog back down on Earth. “Carl, will you please get down?”

“I can’t!”

“Why?”

“Then the dog will melt into the floor.”

“The dog will not melt into the floor. Give him to me. You’re going to drop him sooner or later.”

“No! You don’t believe me.”

“Have you listened to yourself lately? Are you high?”

“No, I don’t think I am.”

I stared at him in complete bafflement. Just then, the doorbell rang.

Praying that my evening would not get any crazier, I opened the door to my next door neighbor, Lucia. Behind me, Tom loudly lamented the futon’s fate, Carl nervously looked down, the dog started to howl, and the chicken stood in plain view of Lucia. My face immediately grew red.

“Oh dear, I fear I came at a bad time.”

“Oh no.  Not at all.” I closed the door behind me, so Lucia and I were alone, outside, under the full moon.

“I brought some cookies over and I have some bad news.”

Frantically, I tried to think of what possible bad news she could give me.

“Please don’t think I am crazy, but I am a witch and I may have accidentally casted an astray spell on your house. The spell was originally supposed to turn everyone into his or her best selves, but instead it turns everyone into the first insult that they say.”

My mind exploded. “So, if someone says “You’re a chicken,” or “Lava games are for children,” or “Your wife is so fat, she could be a futon,” then the respective things would happen to them?”

She looked confused, though I admit - my friends have a competition for coming up with the weirdest insults. "Yes.  But the cookies should solve all of that!”

560 words in 30 minutes

Cookies are always a good answer.

Dog Temperature Meter (comics)

Dog Alarm Clocks (comics)

Unwritten stories

         There are so many unwritten stories, including yours. Don’t let your life be ruled by the stories already written. ~LL

Original writing of thought, date unknown

A Snake-y Stain

On the carpet of the entryway there was a stain of a long thick curvy line, almost serpentine in nature starting with a bulbous head and tapering to a thin tail. It has been there since Chandler brought the house, never leaving, but never changing just as any stain should. 

It wouldn't have been so bad if the stain were someplace out of the way - say under the bed or in the lightly used closet. Unfortunately, the stain was directly in front of the door, invading the house. Chandler walked past that stain every night when they come home from work or a night in town. 

Nothing got rid of it. It was always present, a slightly darker spot on an already dark navy carpet. To date, the only way Chandler thought it would go is when they change the carpet for the next owner in however many years before they sell the house.

Chandler had just got a job promotion out of state, so it was time to pack up and ready the apartment for sale. This of course means filling the little nail holes that used to hold up paintings with spackle, giving a fresh coat of paint to every room, scrubbing the kitchen and bathroom counters to an inch of their life, fixing the flickering lights, and, yes, replacing the carpets in all the major rooms, especially the front entry way.

Chandler had stopped by the home improvement store on the way back from work to pick up paint and rug samples. Paint was relatively easy to decide on as Chandler just picked the same off white cream that the flat came with, but the rug was harder. There was no common theme to the carpets in the house. The closet had the same carpet since the flat was built, the bedroom had a shaggy knotted carpet, and the rest of the house had a threadbare crisscrossed carpet. None of the carpets were still in production. 

It was an easy decision to decide to replace all carpets with just one finalist. The decision was which carpet? It all depended on the entry hall. Chandler favored the light rug color, but for so long the entry hall had the dark navy carpet that Chandler was not quite sure how it would look with beige carpet. Chandler placed the sample at various place in the room, gauging how it would look with the freshly painted wall, the old trimmings, and the ostentatious wooden door. 

It was when Chandler placed the sample next to the head of the serpentine stain that Chandler noticed anything amiss. The stain slithered closer to Chandler's hand. Chandler yanked back. The slithered followed. Stationary, the stain was hard to pick up immediately, but in motion, it stood out like a bump in the carpet.

It was relentless. Chandler backed away, bumping into the wall. Surely, it was just a trick of the eye?

If it was, it was real enough to be fooled. Chandler ran out of the room hoping it was just the odd lighting in the room. Chandler turned around.

The stain looked more detailed now, bigger too, and it was slithering closer. There was a sound of ripping velcro. The carpet jerked and popped as whatever the stain was ripped the old glue that kept the carpet secure. Chandler stumbled further, turning around and running for the acrylic kitchen floor.

Chandler turned once they reached the safety of the kitchen floor. For extra precaution, they readied to jump onto the kitchen counter. The stain reach the transition from carpet to acrylic. It couldn't get through. Carpets were more throughly secured anyplace where there could be a tripping hazard, it should be like a fortress to get through.

The stained bulged stopped for a second at the entryway to the kitchen. Then it turned and slithered away. Chandler hardly dared breath for a second, but upon not seeing a reappearance, Chandler released their breath. It had to be a trick of the light in the room and the stress of moving to another state. That had to be it. Maybe it was the paint fumes making Chandler’s mind see things.

Riiip!

That was the only warning Chandler got before a high speed navy streak lunged for their throat from a gaping hole in the carpet. The last thing Chandler saw was black scales, a triangular head with red beady eyes and large fangs dripping with venom. 

~ll

Thoughts on Coronavirus Pandemic (3/9)

For up-to-date information, please see the C.D.C. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/index.html or the W.H.O https://www.who.int/emergencies/diseases/novel-coronavirus-2019 or ask your local health organization.

TL;DR - Please don’t be a jerk just because people are sick and there’s a flu (however serious) going around. Check C.D.C., W.H.O., and your local health organization for more factual information. Take care of yourself!

What I hope people remember and keep in mind as the virus is going around is that this is not malicious. People usually don’t intend to go around and make everyone sick. And with coronavirus’s varying incubation period ranging from 1 to 14 days, people who are contagious might not even realize they are sick until it’s too late. Any transmission is accidental, maybe careless if it could have been avoided with better hygiene, but still accidental.

Even though this virus originated in China and spread through Asian countries first that does not give license to discriminate against Asians or travelers coming from Asia or other stricken countries. You can treat people with caution and avoid physical contact with people, but do not let your suspicion of someone’s health give you license to treat people as anything less than human.

Stockpiling

I could say more about over-stockpiling and hoarding, but I’m not sure what to say about it. Buy what you need, but try not to buy out the whole shelf is my advice. If you are self-isolating, buy two, maybe three, weeks of food, but try not to buy the whole grocery store!

Face Masks

If you’re sick or coughing a lot, wear a face mask. At the time of writing, the CDC and W.H.O. do not recommend a mask for people who are healthy. The idea is, unless you are a health worker interacting with sick people, the masks are more preventative measures to contain the virus. It makes sense because a mask will help hold in the mucus and water droplets from uncontrollable coughing and sneezing. Healthy people don’t sneeze or cough (and if it’s a one time cough/sneeze the hand and arm is an excellent stop gap measure). 

The W.H.O. has a nice F.A.Q. page which includes some steps on when and how to wear a mask (https://www.who.int/news-room/q-a-detail/q-a-coronaviruses).

Hygiene

Do wash your hands frequently! Use soap! Sing happy birthday to yourself twice! Pretend everyday is your birthday! ‘Nuf said.

On the other hand, if you’re sick of singing happy birthday, there are tons of alternatives. Here’s a link to BuzzFeed (https://www.buzzfeed.com/mikespohr/19-songs-to-sing-instead-of-happy-birthday-while-washing), but there are even more suggestions on on the world wide web. Or you can come up with the next great hit!

Ongoing and Looking to the Future

I am worried about how coronavirus will impact the world in the long-term, starting with the hits to the economy and the drastic changes in face-to-face interaction. I don’t have enough information to speculate except to be hopeful that we’ll pull through somehow. 

And I know this is an ongoing situation, I’m praying for hard-hit communities and grieving families. Coronavirus will get worse before it gets better. The only comfort I can give is that so far at least half of the people who have fallen ill have recovered. John Hopkins has started this neat visualization showing the total number of confirmed cases and displaying numbers (https://www.arcgis.com/apps/opsdashboard/index.html#/bda7594740fd40299423467b48e9ecf6). What’s really cool is the red circles are total confirmed, but if you go to the bottom of the map and toggle to the ‘active’ case, you can see how many cases (orange circles) are ongoing. This is more apparent in China and other countries that had the outbreak longer, but the orange circles are much smaller than the red, which means that even though things are bad, there’s an end.

To end with a positive note, I found a cool article suggesting replacing handshakes with the Vulcan salute https://www.cnet.com/news/spocks-vulcan-salute-should-replace-handshakes-in-coronavirus-era/. Alternatively, if you want to hug someone, I’ve given ‘air-hugs’ whenever I was sick or more often on the other side of video call with relatives. It’s exactly how it sounds, pretend someone is in front of you, hug them, and send positive vibes their way.

The rebellion

The mission was clear-cut. Subdue the enemy and clean up. Another group did the subduing, Lieutenant Barbis and his team was just there for the clean up and tying loose ends.

The enemy was a ragtag bunch of sentients. There was no greater overall organization, just a general resistance that at best constituted guerrilla warfare, but really was an annoyance to the empire. 

Barbis ran a critical eye over everyone. He marked out the primary interest of their captain - a young female human that led to the discovery of the outlaws, but was caught in the middle of the conflict. The first team had already separated her from the rest of the vagrants - a hardened group of outcast imps, fairies, and one lone elf.

The human was not, could not be, a threat and the supernatural were already in cast iron. Barbis pinpointed the leader as the lone elf whose head was still stubbornly high despite their despicable situation. 

The elf, birth name Magnus Willow, appeared and acted female which was the reason for his (her) expulsion from the Willow commune. She went by Mickey Sandson now, as the Willow name was forbidden to outsiders. Sandson did not flinch as Barbis approached her.

"What were you hoping to accomplish with your little rebellion?"

"Release us and you will find out."

Barbis almost snorted at the audacity of the elf. Elves were generally smarter than this. Granted, a smart elf would have never disobeyed or left the commune in the first place. "Look around you. You have no allies coming to rescue you and your compatriots. You're in chains. And soon you'll be heading to the cells to await your trials where when you're found guilty of treason and a whole litany of crime you will either be locked away in the Pit for life or sentenced to death. You can make it easier on everyone if you cooperate, so I'll ask again - what were you hoping to accomplish?"

Sandson scrutinized Barbis. Her gaze felt like a trailing spider leaving an itch that you cannot scratch and was never there in the first place. Instead of answering the question, she asked, "Why did you separate Ana from us?"

Ana, full name Ananta Mohana, the human did not factor into Barbis's interrogation here. "I believe I'm asking the question here."

"Well, I won't answer unless you either answer mine or bring Ana back."

Barbis decided to go in a different direction, "What is the girl's role in your rebellion?”

The corner of Sandson's lip twitched up but only for a millisecond. It was enough to raise Barbis's guard. Elves never smiled unless they were truly happy and unguarded. To see an elf's smile was to either be in their innermost circle or to see one's death before their victory.

"Just our computer geek. You found us because you tracked her here, didn't you?"

The elf’s voice was dry, cold. Barbis internally noted to tell his captain to put extra protection around the human. In addition to the captain’s interest, humans were a valuable, but vulnerable specie. ”Yes ..."

"She got sloppy."

Barbis could only agree. As valuable humans were, there was a reason their specie was declining. ”Generally, human are sloppy."

"Generally, imperial officers don't take notice of ordinary human. What caught your superior's attention about her?"

Truthfully, the human only caught the captain's attention because she was pretty and weak. Of course, Barbis was tactful enough not to mention that especially to the hostile elf in front of him.

Instead, Barbis asked, ”What does it mean to you? It's not like you can use this information to avoid a similar situation in the future. This is it for you."

"Just preparing a mild lecture for when we get out of here for her. Whatever she did, she should know better."

"It was opportunity. She didn't do anything.”

The elf snorted, "Yeah right. She didn't do anything my ass."

Barbis tilted his head, then shook himself out of it. "Nevermind that. What were your plans for this rebellion?"

"Oh nothing much. Just overthrow the man and restore balance to the universe. Stuff like that."

"And just how were you hoping to accomplish that?"

The elf smiled. Her lips stretched slowly, revealing gleaming teeth. "Be underestimated. Take everyone by surprise."

Barbis leaned back warily. Even the presence of iron cuffs did not diminish the sense of danger promised by that smile. "Well you've lost the element of surprise didn't you? I don't see you doing anything any time soon."

Sandson tilted her head, her teeth baring smile at its fullest. "Oh I'm not going to do anything. She is."

"Wha-?" Barbis never finished because he felt a prick in his neck. The paralysis set in too fast for him to do anything.

He collapsed in a heap, eyes wide opened and locked to the scene in front of him. He could see the feet of the elf and the next prisoner over. A foot in a drab sneaker step daintily over him, making way for the elf.

There was rattle of metal. The cuffs on the elf fell to the floor. The cuff of the next prisoner fell shortly after that. None of the prisoners were chained to any fixed location, so one by one they came over and the irons fell to the floor in front of Barbis.

Sandson spoke as the other prisoners came and went. ”They assumed I was the leader."

“Really, I would have pegged Alba here as the leader,” said Mohana, the human. “They have the ability to dastardly plot and succeed.” 

The fairy chittered, “O moi? I have no idea what you’re talking about. The tobasco-filling croissant was a complete accident!”

The human hummed skeptically. Barbis listened as he mentally struggled against the drug. There should have been no known drug to take him and his crew down, not by these vagrants, and especially not by humans.

The line of prisoners were finally free and moving somewhere out of Barbis sight, but the elf and the human’s feet remained.

“So,” asked Sandson, “how long do we have?” 

“Enough time to do what we need to do. Did you get any information from him?”

“He,” Sandson nudged Barbis's still conscious body with her foot, "said you were followed by opportunity."

“That’s … vague.” The human stepped behind Barbis. Moments later, two arms encircled Barbis and lifted him up to a chair with surprising ease. “What opportunity? Why did their captain single me out when I started working at the Capitol?”

Now Barbis could see more than feet. The elf had crossed her arm with a thoughtful look. Former prisoners were coming and going, carrying this and that, presumably readying to escape for good.

A gnome walked up and handed a gelatinous rope to the human behind Barbis. “Here you go, we already secured the other guards,” said the gnome in a crackly voice that sounded like marbles crashing and grinding together.

“Thanks.” Mohana walked around Barbis wrapping the rope. The rope tied Barbis’s chest and his arms to the back of the chair, and she used the little bit at the end to make sure Barbis’s could not move his legs either. “Does that look secure to you Mickey?”

This was all wrong, Barbis thought. The human was wrong. The other sentient rebels seemed to defer to the human, not the elf. Humans could not lead, especially not females. Not only that, Mohana was deaf! The other rebels had to step around front of her in order to speak! Deaf, female, disabled, she was — should have been —  the weakest human in the Capitol. She would not have survived a day in the Capitol if the Captain had not take her under his wing.

Sandson stepped up and tugged at the sticky rope. It stretched a half a meter, but did not break and snapped into place when Sandson released it. Barbis flinched, the first movement of his body.

The elf nodded and said, “Regardless of what their opportunity was, Ana, you know what it means that you got caught."

The human groaned, "Ugh, yes. No more undercover work for me. You were right, I was wrong. I just don't know how I got caught so quickly."

Barbis twitched a finger, revealing in the voluntary movement, but despairing of the situation. The human and the elf caught the movement and snapped their gazes to him. Then the human smile.

Maybe, Mohana was not human. Her smile was like an elf, beautiful, powerful, and promising terrible things for those who did not make her happy. Yet, she was not an elf, maybe an illegal human hybrid? She showed no characteristics of other sentient genomes besides human. Something else?

In any case, the time for wondering had pass. Barbis was not in power anymore. Maybe he never was.

Mohana pulled up another chair and sat in front of Barbis. The height equality did not make him feel better. “So, I hope you have some answers and are ready to talk … Mr. Alien.”

~ LL

Sunflower Seeds

It was the sunflower that stopped the alien invasion. The great yellow flower in the middle of a grey meadow, facing the sun, soaking in the rays for all that it was worth.

The aliens had never seen the color yellow before, at least not like the sunflower. The sunflower just happened to be the first thing they saw when they stepped off the ramp of their space craft. Imagine, those gigantic, fearsome aliens with really big teeth and more legs than spiders, stopping their advance because of a flower. The aliens literally dropped their weapons at the sight. 

The grey meadow had not been watered in a while. It had rained the night before, not enough to revive the grass or the full sunflower field, but enough for that one stubborn plant to bloom. Later when the aliens revisited, they expressed surprised at the change in meadow, how it grew more colorful. The human representative was quick to say that it was because the aliens decided not to attack. 

"Come back in a year if you're still peaceful. This meadow will be a sight to see."

With that open invitation, the aliens indeed returned. The humans had monitored the field, but nature held true and this year, the sunflowers were in full force. The aliens were awed, but flabbergasted. They could not even step for fear of crushing one of the flowers. Guided by the human representative and assured that the sunflowers would be relatively unharmed, they continued to the peace conference.

Served at the peace conference were sunflower seeds, taking the place of roasted peanuts. Without realizing the origin of the strange new food, the aliens eagerly gobbled them up, requesting more and the recipe. 

"It's roasted sunflower seeds."

The aliens flared. Their words did not translate well into English, but they said something to the equivalent of outrage shouting "We're eating the golden flower babies?!!"

Reassurances fell flat. Nothing persuaded the aliens that sunflower seeds were okay to eat. Some of the aliens, if they were not angry, were violently sick, chucking up what remained of the seed. Humans tried to show it was alright by eating more sunflower seeds and saying it was alright. Sunflowers had been a major source of snacking for eons. Every human, mammal, bird on Earth have eaten a sunflower seed at one point. Flowers produced so many fruits and seeds that it was a way of helping the plants spread the seeds by eating them.

The last bit gave the aliens some pause. "So if we eat the sunflower seeds, we help spread sunflowers?"

"You would have to eat them raw and whole and hope that your stomach acid do not destroy the seed entirely, but yes."

Then they began swallowing whole sunflower seeds in earnest, without explanation, requesting raw sunflower seeds. The human representative humored them without saying anything.

The aliens left the next day, but before they left, the human approached them.

"You know, if you wanted sunflowers, all you have to do is ask."

It was the beginning of a very profitable trade negotiation between human and aliens and the only product was sunflowers and gardening necessity.

~LL