Aliens Wrecked Our Kegger - Author Commentary Edition: Chapter 4

Although he was on guard after the missing keg, Clyde slowly began to relax as events flowed smoothly. The next round of specialty shots came and went without any more supplies vanishing, Dougie was officially off the couch as Zip Zip and Bloog unwittingly dragged him into socialization attempts, and the overall crowd had settled into a familiar hum of revelry that Clyde considered to be the music of a job well done. With everything running flawlessly, he found his anxiety mercifully eased, enough to treat himself to a quick round at the bar, fixing a hurried cocktail. Truth be told, Clyde avoided beer on nights like this; it was the sort of drink that left a stench behind when spilled, and for him that would have necessitated an entire outfit change. Besides, he liked to keep a clear head. There were plenty of times for him to cut loose through the year, but these events were equivalent to concerts with him as the conductor, an effort that required a keen mind in case of troubleshooting.

No sooner had Clyde finished stirring his drink than a loud, sharp, shrill noise rang through the frat house. It was instantly familiar, since Clyde insisted on monthly fire drills. The fire alarm had gone off, and that was an all-hands-on-deck situation. If the fire department came out, they would, of course, have cops along with them, and while the college might turn a blind eye to controlled revelry, there were limits. Once the cops arrived, this party was done, and Clyde would be damned if he let that happen without a fight.

Charging into the living room, Clyde easily located and ran to Smasher, who wordlessly lifted Clyde up onto his shoulders so that everyone could see him. “Attention revelers! Please keep enjoying yourselves. The situation is well in hand. Sexy Tony knows that an alarm means it’s time for the Hotball shots, and he’ll be wheeling those out in the backyard right now. File on out and go grab a couple — we’ve prepared plenty. Other brothers, you know what to do, we drill for this monthly. Find the source of the alarm while Smooth Tony phones the fire department to let them know we’ve got the issue well in hand, just in case someone else calls it in by mistake.”

The “by mistake” was pure pageantry. As soon as the other frats saw this chance, they’d pounce. If three calls hadn’t already gone out, Clyde would be flabbergasted. This was why they drilled, though, and for as much flack as Clyde had taken on the policy, he noted that the brothers still moved like clockwork. Everyone ran to their designated areas, scanning for anything that could account for a sudden fire alarm going off. Meanwhile, Smooth Tony was already on his phone, twirling his hideous ponytail as he spoke. Smooth Tony could talk nearly anyone into anything; he proved that every day by functioning with his hideous hair choice. It was the equivalent of a berserker wearing the scalps of fallen enemies, a physical cue to let all who saw it know how capable that person was at what they did.

With the brothers on their tasks, Clyde motioned for Smasher to hoist him down. They could deal with a fire; the bigger issue to consider was whether or not this was cover for a larger move. Sowing chaos was only a worthwhile endeavor if one planned to harvest the crops, and with one keg already missing Clyde could take a fair guess at what the end goal of this would be. Mentally recalling the party layout, Clyde assessed which kegs would be most vulnerable. Everyone was pouring into the backyard, so even if someone grabbed a keg from there they wouldn’t make it more than a few steps, and he’d put enough fear into the brothers by the gate that they’d die rather than move. It was amazing the length people would go to if it meant avoiding being on cleaning duty with Clyde.

Since the backyard was good and sealed, that made their most vulnerable targets the keg in the dining room/beer pong tournament hall and the one in the closet under the stairs. “Smasher, you check the Potter-hole; I’ll make sure the dining room is safe. Don’t let anyone make off with more of our supplies.”

“Got it.” Smasher was already moving as his words rumbled, slow and steady as always. What Clyde wouldn’t trade for three more Smashers in his life. With five, he could probably take over the world. The one would have to suffice for now. Clyde raced toward the dining room, determined not to let their saboteurs sneak away in the confusion.

Upon arrival, he thought everything was good. Zip Zip and Bloog were standing over the keg, but that wasn’t inherently suspicious. After all, it was a room filled with beer pong tables, standing around the keg to fill up pitchers was part of the festivities. It was only after a few seconds of staring that Clyde noticed the strange green glow coming from their location, right where the keg was supposed to be.

“Hey! What the fuck is that?”

Clyde’s voice startled them so much that Bloog dropped something from his hand, an object that clattered to the ground. As soon as it did, the green glow died away. Both of the exchange students turned to look at Clyde with shocked expressions, and as they did their bodies parted. Through the gap, Clyde could make out the keg, or rather, what remained of it. It wasn’t destroyed; it actually looked still perfectly intact. It was just… smaller. Nearly the size of pony-keg, except that it was too thick around to be mistaken for one. After cycling through a half-dozen explanations that didn’t hold water, Clyde was forced to settle on the only one that made any sort of sense.

“Did you… were you… shrinking our keg?”

“Hey guys, I brought the shots like you wanted.” It was at that point that Dougie wandered in through the dining room’s other entrance, several Hotball shots in his hands. Zip Zip and Bloog looked from Dougie, to Clyde, to the keg, and back to Clyde.

“Discovery!” Zip Zip yelled. “Discovery! We are unmade.”

Bloog nodded, although he didn’t seem as panicked. Instead, he scooped up the device from the ground, then took a good grip on the reduced-size keg and nodded in Dougie’s direction. “Escape. Escape!” Zip Zip took the cue, and together the pair of them hauled up the keg and began racing right toward Dougie.

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And now the action begins! At the time, four chapters getting to where the plot really kicked off felt like a speed-run, but this is now probably the slowest starting of my Shingles series.

The pacing difference between novellas and novels was one I’d need more practice to really grasp, though at least I went into this one knowing there was a limited time for setup.

Aside from introducing the genuine sci-fi aspects of the story, I find this chapter important because it reinforces Clyde’s odd role within the frat, and sheds a little light on his perception of Smasher.

The idea of brotherhood, bother literal and figurative, is not-so-subtly layered throughout this story, and so it felt essentially to underline that Clyde genuinely valued his friend and his contributions to their particular dynamic. I also found the image of Smasher hefting Clyde to yell at everyone as a makeshift speaker system to be as especially fun image, but that might just be an old appreciation for Freak the Mighty rearing it’s head.