Excerpt: We're All Fine Here

It's like Happy Days ran out of plots, Nicole said, drinking her beer. And the only thing they could come up with is hey, let's drop an alien in this shit. Why isn't anyone calling NASA or the FBI or something? They had NASA back then, right? Isn't that the kind of shit NASA did before they got rid of it?

It's a sitcom, I said, because I already had a couple of beers in me. They're not gonna call NASA and have him taken away in a garbage bag. That would not be a sitcom, that would be a drama. Or a documentary.

The last part slipped out before I could stop myself but fortunately all it did was make Nicole laugh. Even so, she said, what the fuck is it with no one really acting like it's a big deal? If I knew an alien, even if I didn't freak out and call NASA? I'd have questions. Like, what's your planet like? What do you eat? How did you get here? Why did you bother coming to our stupid planet when you're obviously more advanced than we are because you managed to get here in the first place? How did your people finance your space program?

Maybe they were lonely?

This guy is too amped to notice being lonely, Nicole said, as we watched Mork stick his head in the seat of a chair for the billionth time. Maybe he's a spy, she said. Or a scout. Maybe he's here to check things out before the planet Ork sends a whole bunch of Morks to take over the planet and eat our trees or steal our pets or whatever.

Maybe they were already here, I said slowly, and they left, and Mork got left behind. Because here's the thing — I've been thinking about it, and isn't it possible that some of you got left here? Don't take this the wrong way, but it's not as if you all are perfect individually. Couldn't there have been a screwup or two or ten? Couldn't there be a few Morks still here?

You know, Nicole said, you might be onto something. Remember those ones where Joanie's, like, eight? And she's got the brother Richie, right? But then there's that big brother. Chuck. He's at dinner a couple of times. And then, you never see him again. Remind you of anything?

Just a little, I said. And we were quiet for a while, eating chips and finishing our beers, watching the Cunningham family in Milwaukee try their best to go on with their lives.