“Slug Bug, red” Renee said, swatting her brother.
“Bruise Cruise, white” replied Kyle, hitting her shoulder.
“That’s the fifth Cruiser today.”
“Andy said they really suck.”
“Kyle, you know I don’t like that kind of language!” Mom said.
“Sorry, Mom. Andy said they break down a lot.”
“OH MY GAWD!” Renee pointed. “A pink Cruiser limo!”
“Bruise Cruise, pink!” yelled Kyle and hit his sister on the arm twice.
“I saw it first.”
“But you didn’t call it out. I’m the winner.”
Renee hit Kyle on the shoulder. “That’s for hitting me twice.”
“Limo’s are worth two hits,” Kyle said as he hit Renee again.
“You two stop. Play nicely or don’t play. Slug bug, tan,” Mom reached back and whacked Kyle’s knee.
“Oww, you hit me with your ring.”
“Sorry,” Mom said. “Bruise Cruise, maroon.” She slapped Kyle again.
Mom pulled into the Walmart parking lot. “We are here to get some clothes. Nothing else.”
Dozens of plastic bags littered the lot. “Walmart bags must be the worst litter on the planet,” Renee said. “Can’t these be bio-degradable?”
“There is an entire island made of plastic trash in the Pacific Ocean that’s twice as big as Texas,” Kyle said. “Trash blows around until it gets into the ocean. It collects in places where the water swirls around. It’s dangerous to marine animals, who think it’s food.”
They picked up as many as they could to put in the recycle bins. Kyle called out two more Cruisers he found in the lot.
Leaving the store, Renee spied another PT Cruiser. “Bruise Cru…whoa! That’s the strangest person I’ve ever seen.”
“Renee,” Mom said. “What if they heard you?”
“Wow, you’re right!” said Kyle.
“You shouldn’t say things like...Oh my goodness!” Mom said. “It looks like an alien.”
When they got home, Kyle raced to his computer. Yahoo had a story about his favorite rapper, Big Boi. He had a bad case of laryngitis and had postponed the recording session for his new album.
When Dad came home from work, he told them about an accident. “Both cars were PT Cruisers. And when I was stuck in traffic behind them, I saw three more.”
“I saw a pink Cruiser limousine,” Renee said.
The financial report came on the television. “Chrysler signed a deal with suppliers to supply parts for the PT Cruiser for the next 15 years. Popularity of the retro-styled vehicle increased in the two years since the company announced it would cease production of the vehicle. Industry buzz is that the Chrysler may bring back a newly-restyled version of the car next year. Cruiser sales rank among the top of used cars.”
“I guess that explains it,” said Kyle.
“There’s more around now then when Chrysler made them,” said Renee. “Where’d they come from?”
“In entertainment news, the laryngitis epidemic continues to hit the music industry,” the television continued. “Twelve more rap stars have it. Many attended the Billboard Hip Hop/R&B Music Conference in New York last month. Researchers are seeking a connection between the convention center, meals or hotels. They suspect an unknown viral or bacterial cause.”
“I hope they all get their voices back,” Kyle said, eyeing the list of musicians. “Some of those guys are supposed to start work on new albums.”
The next day, Kyle and Andy walked home from school. “That’s why there are so many Cruisers,” explained Kyle. “Bruise Cruise, white!” He hit Andy on the arm.
Andy rubbed his arm. “Not so hard. Why here? They’re everywhere.”
Kyle looked around. “Hey, isn’t that Nas? I thought I knew all his songs. Don’t remember that one.” He looked for the source, a Cruiser waiting at the stoplight. “Whoa!” he elbowed Andy. “Dude, look at that guy in the Cruiser. Is he wearing a mask?”
“What are you talking about?” Andy said. “Looks like a dad-kind of dude.”
Kyle looked again. “He was different a minute ago, like an alien.” The driver stared at Kyle, his face expressionless. “See, his face is like a mask, or something.” The car was gone before Andy could look again. “That guy was weird. Did you know that song? Was that Nas?”
“Sounded like him. Isn’t he one who got that throat thingy?” Andy asked.
“Yea, he lost his voice. All rappers are getting it. It’s called ‘Rappers Syndrome’.”
At the corner, there were three Cruisers. “Bruise Cruise times three!” Kyle hit Andy’s arm three times. “That’s Ice Cube. I recognize the voice. What is that song? Never heard it before.” He followed the sound to a red PT Cruiser. “Holy Crap! That driver looks like Big Foot! What the heck? There’s something weird about these Cruisers. It’s like they’re not human!”
They turned a corner and saw a PT Cruiser smashed into a utility pole. Renee frantically waved at them. “What happened?” Kyle asked.
“I was walking home when the car veered into the pole,” Renee said. “I called 911 on my cell. Look at the driver!”
Expected brains leaking all over the seat, the boys gasped. The driver wasn’t human! His skin was grayish-green. The eyes were too big, set too far apart, while the head elongated, almost to a point. “What is that?” asked Kyle.
The driver sat up straight. He tried to start the car, but the engine wouldn’t budge. The driver looked at the kids.
“What are you? Do you need help?” Kyle yelled through the car window. “Are you alone?”
The driver hesitated, then rolled down the window. “Are you hurt?” asked Kyle.
“No. My leg is held by the crushed-in door.” The driver’s voice was thin, high-pitched.
“What are you?” Kyle asked. “Sorry. Where are you from?”
“I am not from around here.”
“That’s obvious,” said Renee. “Are you an alien?”
“I am not from this planet.” The alien grew quiet.
Andy stared at the driver. “You’re from another planet?”
“I come from a planet orbiting a star you see in Orion. Can you help? The door may be damaging my leg.”
“Help me open the door.” Andy stood, frozen, so Kyle slapped him on the back. “Andy. Door.” They pulled and it inched slightly. “On three,” Kyle said. “One...two…three!” The door jerked open.
“Thank you,” the alien said, stretching his leg. He grabbed several canisters from the floor and placed them in a black box. The lid to the box opened and closed on its own.
“Where did you get a PT Cruiser?” asked Kyle.
“We find this vehicle fits our physiology better than others you Earthlings create. It is unfortunate that you do not experience the comfort and roominess that this vehicle offers. It is difficult to find these since you have ceased making them.” He clutched the black box to his ‘chest.’
“I’m Renee. This is my brother, Kyle, and his friend Andy. What is your name?”
“I am not sure your vocal apparatus could pronounce it. On this planet, I go by Luke Skywalker.”
“Your name is Luke Skywalker?” Andy asked.
“My people, when on Earth, take names based on popular indigenous entertainment. I am fond of the unassuming-hero type.”
“What’s in the box?” Renee asked.
Luke held the box slightly away from his chest. “Souvenirs. On my planet, music is the highest form of expression. We find that your RAP singers carry it to a high art. We collect songs so that we may bring them back for others to enjoy.”
“I’ve heard a lot of rap songs coming from Cruisers lately,” Kyle said. Are they all your people?’
“That is highly probable,” Luke said. “We commonly utilize these vehicles when we visit your planet. I have noted few Earthlings who drive PT Cruisers listen to RAP music.”
Kyle frowned. “Some of these songs coming from Cruisers sound like rappers I know, but I never heard the songs. How do you get them?”
Luke hesitated. “We…download them from the memories of the RAP artists.”
“Did you download a song from Nas?” Kyle asked.
“Why, yes. One of my personal favorites.”
“Do you have that song in your black box there?”
“Yes,” Luke said. He manipulated controls that appeared on the box. The song Kyle and Andy had heard only a few minutes ago now came from the box.
“That’s the song we heard, Andy! Luke, do you realize these rappers can’t make any more music if you take their voices?”
“We do not ‘take their voices’; we take that part of their memory that creates music. They continue to make new songs in their own style for us.”
They heard the sound of a siren in the distance. “Oh,” said Luke, “I can not let your authorities catch me. The crash disabled my morphing ability. I can not at this time make my self look human.”
“Can you run?” Renee asked.
“Yes, my legs are now fine.”
They ran up a side street and around a corner just as a police car turned on to the street with the crashed PT Cruiser. Kyle and Renee’s father had built a playhouse in the backyard and Luke would be safe from discovery there for now.
Luke occasionally pointed, making a cooing sound. Finally, Renee asked what he was doing.
“Those adorable little creatures you have running all over your planet. There is nothing like them on our planet. If we were not prohibited from capturing live specimens, we would take several for pets.”
Renee saw no animals. “Are you talking about bugs?”
“There goes another one,” Luke pointed down the street. All three looked. They saw a parked car and some trash blowing in the wind. A cat darted from behind the car.
“That’s the neighbor’s tomcat,” said Kyle. “I guess they’re cute. You won’t want the litter box.”
“No,” said Luke. “The white one. Over there. He is rolling across the lawn. How fascinating those creatures are.”
“Are you talking about that plastic bag?” asked Kyle?
“Is that what they are called? Plasticbag. Do you humans ever keep them as pets? We would love to have such adorable animals on our planet,” Luke said.
“Those are ‘plastic shopping bags’,” Renee said slowly, emphasizing each word. “People carry their groceries home, then throw them on the ground. We’re not a very clean species.”
“You use living creatures to do manual labor? Is that not cruel?”
“They’re not animals,” Kyle said. “They are made of non-living plastic.”
Luke looked at the bag. “If they are not alive, how do they move so quickly?” he asked.
“They blow in the wind,” said Kyle. “They are very light weight. And we have too many of them.”
Renee smiled. “Luke, would you like to have one to take home with you? Kyle, grab that before it blows away.”
Kyle handed it to Luke who took it gingerly and studied it in detail. “Ah, it is empty inside. We thought they were sacred animals since they are everywhere and no one ever rounded them up. May I have this one?”
Renee grabbed another bag blowing by. “Have another one. Take all you want. Tell all of your friends.”
Kyle said “Give us back all of the rap singers’ voices and I’ll give you this iPod. You can put all songs on it you like and they can still make new songs. Touch here and the song plays.”
“I hear nothing.” Luke said.
“Put the ear buds in your ears.”
Luke stuck them into folds under his ribs “Ah, yes, Nas. We have an agreement?”
“We have a deal,” Kyle said
Luke pushed a few buttons on the box, creating a whooshing sound. “All the voices of your RAP Artists have been returned. I must leave now to explain these wonderful new treasures to my people.” He fiddled with something on the box and vanished.
Press releases soon verified that ‘Rapper’s Syndrome’ had disappeared. While trash still littered the streets, there were no more Walmart bags blowing in the wind.