Sonny the Alien

Sonny and Chad sat in the booth waiting for their food.

Sonny was vibrating with excitement. “I have ordered optimally for muscle growth, Chad.”

Chad nodded. “Nice.”

A burger. Extra patty. Side of fries. Cheese curds. Dessert. Two waters.

Chad ordered a sandwich and a beer.

The food arrived and Sonny went to work like a construction crew demolishing a building.

Ten minutes later, nothing remained but crumbs and satisfaction.

Sonny leaned back. “That was outstanding. I feel prepared to lift a vehicle.”

The waitress dropped the check.

Chad picked it up. Paused. “…huh.”

Sonny tilted his head. “Is there an issue?”

Chad turned the check around.

$93.47

Sonny blinked.

“Chad.”

“Yeah.” Chad reached for his wallet.

“This paper says we have purchased an entire week of groceries.”

Chad shrugged. “Yeah, restaurants are kinda pricey now.”

Sonny pointed. “What is this ‘side of fries’ charge? The fries did not accompany the burger?”

“Nope.”

“And this ‘credit card surcharge’…they are charging us…for paying them?”

“Yep.”

“And we must also give them additional money because they carried the food ten feet to this table?”

“Uh huh.”

Sonny stared at the check like it had insulted his family.

“So the process is this,” Sonny said slowly. “They source and cook the food for less than we pay. We pay extra for parts of the food. We pay extra for using money. We pay extra for them to walk it to us. And then we leave.”

Chad nodded. “Pretty much.”

Sonny leaned back.

“Chad…this establishment is a scam.”

Chad laughed. “You still wanna come back?”

Sonny thought for a long time.

“…only if we are celebrating something very important. Like surviving a small war.”

Sonny took out his Earth Log device and began typing.

The cost of food varies wildly on Earth. It appears I have located the upper limit. Chad does not seem fazed by this. I will be returning to ALDI immediately.

Earth Log Entry #7: Killer Atmosphere

Sonny and Chad were on the couch watching the news. The weatherman came on and said there’s a quick-moving cold front coming in and the lows will dip into the negatives tomorrow morning.

Sonny cocked his head to the side. “Chad…the temperature will be less than zero tomorrow morning?”

Chad didn’t look up from his phone. “Yeah.”

Sonny looked at him incredulously. “Zero is where numbers stop. That is the bottom. You have gone past the bottom. You have invented new cold.”

Chad glanced at the TV. “Yeah. Happens every year around this time.”

Sonny sat forward. “So the atmosphere could actually kill you?”

Chad shrugged. “Yeah, if you’re outside long enough, I guess. Gonna make for a cold morning commute.”

Sonny blinked slowly. “You’re going to leave the safety of our domicile and risk certain death…to go to work?”

Chad put his phone down. “Yeah, dude. The world doesn’t stop because it gets cold. I got a meeting with the head honcho tomorrow. Might be getting a raise.”

Sonny pulled out his Earth Log device and began typing.

Parts of Earth suffer from extreme cold at different times of the year. Too long in these temperatures means painful and certain death. Chad says it isn’t a big deal, and he’ll risk his life for money. I’ll be on standby to notify his next of kin.

Sonny then sat back, a concerned look on his face. “You’re really going to risk painful, certain death…for money?”

Chad stood up, thought about it for a second, and shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”

Earth Log Entry #6: Miniature Predators and Domestic Trust

Sonny arrived at her residence precisely on time.

He was wearing clean shoes. He had brought a bottle of wine he did not understand. He was optimistic.

She opened the door smiling.

“Hi Sonny!”

“Hello,” Sonny said. “Your dwelling appears pleasant and structurally sound. Also, your Raiders flag out front is very aesthetically pleasing.”

“Thanks,” she said, stepping aside. “Oh, and just so you know, I have a kitten.”

Sonny froze. “…a what?”

Before she could answer, something small darted across the floor.

Quick. Agile. Low to the ground.

Sonny’s pupils dilated. “That,” he said carefully, “is a tiny juvenile felid.”

She laughed. “That’s Milo. He’s just a baby.”

The kitten stopped, crouched, and pounced on a dust particle with lethal enthusiasm.

Sonny leaned down slightly. “On my planet,” he said, “predators of this size are not trusted indoors.”

She knelt and scooped the kitten up. “He’s harmless.”

The kitten purred gently and swatted the air.

Sonny straightened. “He has knives on his paws.”

She smiled. “They’re tiny.”

“Yes,” Sonny said. “So is his moral compass.”

They moved to the couch. The kitten immediately climbed onto Sonny’s lap.

Sonny did not move.

“I believe it is assessing me,” he said. Milo kneaded Sonny’s leg aggressively.

Sonny’s breathing changed.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Sonny blinked rapidly. “My sinuses are declaring war.”

She tilted her head. “Are you allergic?”

Sonny nodded. “Violently.”

His eyes began watering. His skin flushed a deeper shade of #e88368. “I am experiencing full immune rebellion,” he said calmly.

The kitten head-butted his chest and purred.

“This creature is both attacking and comforting me,” Sonny said. “I do not understand its strategy.”

She laughed. “He likes you!”

“I may not survive his affection,” Sonny replied.

He stood abruptly. “I must initiate emergency protocol.”

He moved quickly to the entryway, searched his gym bag, grabbed the allergy pills Chad had given him, and popped one. The kitten sauntered over to him, tail high, unbothered by the proceedings.

Sonny looked down at it, eyes red, voice congested. “You are small,” he said. “You are efficient. And you will be the end of me.”

The kitten meowed. Sonny nodded.

“A worthy foe.”

Sonny took out his Earth Log device and started typing.

Humans invite predators into their homes and call them family. The predators are small, emotionally manipulative, and lethal to my species. I am willing to endure this for mating purposes. This seems unwise. The felid has won this battle.

Earth Log Entry #5: Upper Cranium Concealment Rules, Routines, and Rituals

Sonny had a date.

Which meant he had entered what Chad called “the gauntlet.”

But there was a problem.

His new skincare routine—one he took VERY seriously—left his face more red than usual and “glossy enough to blind a mid-sized aircraft,” according to Chad.

So Sonny stood in the living room wearing a Raiders ball cap on sideways.

“Chad…is this upper cranium covering acceptable on a date?”

Chad took a long sip of iced coffee. “This is with that one chick, right?”

Sonny adjusted the brim again. “Yes. The one who propositioned me to accompany her to the cinema.”

“Nah bro, a ball cap isn’t acceptable on the first date. On a first date, no hats.”

Sonny froze. “I cannot show my face like this.”

Chad kicked his feet onto the coffee table. “Sonny, you’ll be fine. The lighting is soft at theaters. It’s not that harsh fluorescent light like at a bank or something.”

Sonny removed the hat. “Will the color and shine of my face be off-putting to a human Earth woman?”

Chad looked up from his phone. “No. If she likes you, she likes you bro. Ditch the hat.”

Sonny took out his Earth Log device and started writing.

Humans have interesting rules, routines, and rituals around head concealment. Hats are supposedly forbidden on first dates. This suggests that honesty is delayed until trust is established. I find this inefficient.

Sonny put the hat on his head, brim facing forward. “If she will not have me as I am,” he said carefully, “she will not have me at all.”

Just then there was a knock at the door. Sonny answered it.

“Hi Sonny!” It was his date. She was also wearing a Raiders hat.

Chad looked up, phone in hand, dumbfounded. “Some guys have all the luck,” he muttered, already swiping again.

Earth Log Entry #4: Temporal Celebration Protocols

Chad knocked on Sonny’s door.

“You wanna go to the bar tonight?” Chad asked. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”

Sonny looked up from his desk. “Why?”

Chad paused. “…because it’s New Year’s Eve?”

Sonny considered this. “Yes,” he said slowly. “But what has occurred?”

“A new year,” Chad said.

Sonny blinked. “Time has continued.”

Chad frowned. “What?”

Sonny gestured gently. “Yesterday, time existed. Today, time exists. Tomorrow, time will exist. Why is this considered an achievement?”

Chad leaned against the wall. “It’s just…tradition, dude. You celebrate, you drink, you kiss someone at midnight.”

Sonny’s eyes widened slightly. “Kissing is now synchronized with planetary rotation?”

Chad stared. “You’re overthinking it.”

Sonny stood and walked to the window. “On my planet,” he said, “we celebrate when something changes.”

“Like what?” Chad asked.

“When a moon leaves orbit. When a species evolves. When a new planet has been discovered,” Sonny replied.

Chad blinked. “…we just drink. And make resolutions.”

Sonny turned back. “So humans gather to honor that nothing significant has occurred?”

Chad rubbed his chin. “It’s not nothing. It’s…symbolic.”

“Symbolic of what?” Sonny asked.

“That we made it through another year.” Chad said.

Sonny thought for a moment. “You have made it through every day,” he said. “Why is this day superior?”

Chad exhaled slowly. “Sonny…you wanna go out or not?”

Sonny considered this carefully. “Will I be expected to cheer?” he asked.

“Probably.” Chad replied.

“Will I be expected to shout numbers?”

“Definitely.”

“Will there be loud music and crowded spaces?”

Chad nodded.

“And someone may attempt to kiss me?”

“Yeah.”

Sonny paused.

Then he reached into his mini-fridge and removed two king-size Snickers bars and a quart of milk.

“I require confectionery stabilization,” he said calmly.

Chad stared. “…is that a yes?”

Sonny thought for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “As long as there will be women.”

“Cool,” Chad said. “We’ll leave at 7. You drive.”

Sonny nodded and Chad left.

He then took a big swig of milk and started typing into his Earth Log device:

Humans celebrate the passage of time despite its indifference to them. I find this confusing but socially important. I will participate because human females will be there. Chad says I must wear something ‘festive.’ I do not know what that means.

Earth Log Entry #3: A New Allegiance

Sonny was introduced to American football at a bar on a Sunday.

Chad explained that it was very important.

Men and women watched intently. Voices became louder. Emotions escalated rapidly.

“This is football,” Chad said. “You gotta pick a team.” he said, studying the menu.

Sonny watched closely.

Large humans collided at high speeds. One man was praised for violently tackling another. The crowd cheered.

“This is…ritual combat,” Sonny said.

“Basically,” Chad nodded.

Sonny studied the teams carefully.

Some wore bright colors. Some wore stripes. Some had mascots that appeared non-threatening.

Then Sonny saw them.

Black jerseys. Silver helmets. A pirate logo.

“Who are those?” Sonny asked.

“The Raiders,” Chad said. “Why?”

Sonny’s eyes widened. “They dress for intimidation,” Sonny said. “They have chosen darkness and metal.”

Chad looked at the TV and squinted. “Yeah…I guess.”

“I choose them,” Sonny declared.

“Bro—you can’t just choose the Raiders,” Chad said. “You don’t even know where they’re from.”

Sonny shrugged. “They appear formidable. Their aesthetic suggests danger. I respect this.”

The Raiders scored. Sonny stood up and pumped his fist.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “Violence has rewarded them.”

Chad stared. “You’re…rooting for the Raiders?”

“Yes,” Sonny said. “They are clearly the apex predators.”

Over the next hour, Sonny became increasingly invested.

Every hard hit earned solemn approval. Every penalty confused him.

“Why is aggression punished?” Sonny asked. “This is a combat sport.”

Chad sighed.

At one point, the Raiders lost yardage. Sonny frowned deeply. “They are dishonoring their armor,” he said.

By the end of the game, Sonny had committed fully. He crossed his arms. He nodded at the screen. He spoke in quiet, absolute statements. “They will recover.” “They are not afraid.” “This is temporary weakness.”

When the Raiders lost, Sonny remained unshaken. “This is acceptable,” he said. “True warriors suffer.”

Chad looked at him. “You picked the Raiders knowing they might suck?”

“Yes,” Sonny said. “Winning is not the point.”

Chad blinked. “Then what is?”

Sonny thought for a moment. “Loyalty,” he said. “And intimidation. And looking good while doing it.”

Sonny took out his Earth Log device and started writing.

Humans choose allegiance to sports teams for many reasons. Geography. Family. History. I chose mine based on armor and threat level. Chad says this will bring me pain. I am prepared.

Chad looked around and muttered, “Where’s our waitress?”

Earth Log Entry #2: Seasonal Cinema Hierarchies

Sonny discovered Christmas movies accidentally.

He turned on the television seeking background noise.

Instead, he found Jingle All the Way.

Sonny sat down immediately.

A well-built human male was yelling. Another human male, a postman, was also yelling.

A child desired an object of great importance.

“This appears to be a quest,” Sonny said.

The humans on screen competed aggressively for a toy.

There were lies. There were disguises. There was mild lawlessness.

Sonny leaned forward.

“Yes,” he whispered. “This is excellent.”

The door opened.

Chad entered, carrying a bag of gifts and some leftovers, clearly exhausted from a family Christmas gathering.

He stopped when he saw the television. “Are you watching…Jingle All the Way?”

“Yes,” Sonny said. “It is a Christmas film.”

Chad scoffed. “That movie sucks.”

Sonny turned slowly. “Sucks…how?”

“It’s not a real Christmas movie,” Chad said, tossing his keys on the table. “It’s dumb. It’s loud. It’s just Arnold yelling.”

On screen, Arnold yelled again.

Sonny gestured toward the television. “He is demonstrating urgency.”

Chad rolled his eyes. “There are way better Christmas movies.”

“Name them,” Sonny said calmly.

“Home Alone. Elf. Die Hard.”

Sonny considered this. “Those are also loud,” Sonny said, “and involve criminal behavior.”

“That’s different,” Chad said. “Those are classics.”

Sonny frowned slightly. “In this film,” Sonny said, “a father endures humiliation, conflict, and physical danger to provide joy for his offspring.”

The Turbo Man doll appeared. Sonny nodded approvingly. “This aligns with Christmas values.”

Chad stared. “You’re taking this movie seriously?”

“Yes,” Sonny said. “It contains competition, sacrifice, deception, redemption, and a parade.”

On screen, chaos escalated. Sonny smiled.

“This is not merely a movie,” he said. “It is a documentary about human scarcity mindset.”

Chad sighed and collapsed onto the couch. “You’re impossible.”

Sonny did not look away from the screen. “I am enjoying this,” he said. “A great deal.”

Sonny took out his Earth Log device and started tapping away.

Humans rank holiday films according to nostalgia rather than objective merit. Loudness is acceptable if it occurred during childhood. I will continue watching this movie annually. Chad says this is embarrassing. I find it festive.

Chad glanced at the screen again. “Okay, but Sinbad is kind of funny.”

Sonny nodded and smirked slightly. “Progress,” he said.

Earth Log Entry #1: A Prohibition Against Doubling

Sonny had been on Earth exactly two months when he discovered something magical: The gym.

A place where humans voluntarily lifted heavy objects and grunted like territorial moose. Sonny felt right at home.

He went once in the morning. He enjoyed it. A lot. So naturally…he wanted to go again.

He slipped on a shirt, laced up his shoes, and was halfway out the door when Chad intercepted him like a panicked football cornerback. “Bro-bro-bro-BRO. You can’t go to the gym twice in one day.”

Sonny froze. “Why not?”

Chad blinked. Then blinked again. “Well…it’s weird, dude.”

Sonny looked genuinely concerned. “Weird… how?”

“You’ll be THAT Guy,” Chad said, waving his iced coffee around dramatically. “The overachiever guy. The too-much guy. The employees will notice. They’ll judge you.”

Sonny nodded slowly like Chad had just revealed deep Earth wisdom. “Earth custom prohibits…doubling?”

“It’s not a RULE,” Chad said. “It’s just…NOBODY does that.”

Sonny tilted his head, processing. “But…I enjoyed it. I simply wish to enjoy it twice.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Chad said.

Sonny’s eyes widened. “There is a limit on joy?”

“No! No, not joy—just gyms. You can’t be a ‘two-a-day guy.’ People talk.”

Sonny stared at him with deep alien sincerity. “Chad…humans are fragile.” Then he walked out the door anyway.

Later, he returned glowing—literally a slightly brighter shade of #e88368—and talked aloud as he wrote an entry into his Earth Log device:

Humans possess many prohibitions. Gym duplication appears to be one of them. I do not understand. I enjoyed both visits.

Chad muttered under his breath as he swiped on a dating app, “Of course you did.”