It was the end of the workday at Edwards Alien Task Force base, and a couple of burly guards walked through the hallways with a shorter figure. The figure was handcuffed and was going back to his jail cell. He was one of the aliens. He might as well have been the only alien at the base. He was the only alien the Alien Task Force ever caught — besides his cousin. The guards were armed in case the alien managed to slip out of the handcuffs. The alien wore an orange jumpsuit, black boots, orange gloves, and a large, heavy helmet. On his jumpsuit, there was a white identification tag that read "ALF #324". The warden, Andrew, noticed the burly guards and unlocked the cell where the alien rested. The alien bowed his head in innocence when he got to the cell.

"I am to assume you got all your work done, #324," Andrew smirked. The alien nodded his head sluggishly.

"In you go, then. The helmet and handcuffs stay on until you are brought supper, as usual," the warden reminded.

The alien, exhausted, hauled himself into his cell. The door was locked, but the alien knew Andrew would be back soon with supper. The alien was famished. He worked from 5:30 AM until 8:30 PM. He had to have a large breakfast because the base didn't give him any lunch. Most people could do it, but the alien, having eight stomachs, had to at least have some sort of snack. The alien was wondering about how he had survived over 30 years on the base when his sharp ears heard the door rattling. Andrew walked into the cell with the alien's large supper. A man with a bag of tools came in as well. The alien went to the man with the tools first. The man removed his handcuffs and helmet, which were only covering up the other devices the alien had to wear. Metal ear caps were removed from the alien's ears and a muzzle was extracted from the alien's large snout.

"There you go, #324. I'll be back tomorrow morning," the man with the tools said after removing these devices. The alien smiled a drained, four-toothed smile at him as he left.

"You be good while you eat supper, #324. Buzz me when you're finished," Andrew instructed as he left.

The solid cell door locked. The alien was finally able to be himself.

"Boy, was that a long day. '#324, do this, #324, do that.' Maybe I don't wanna do all their chores. And do I get tired of that name! #324! It's not my name! My name isn't a number. Nor is it that gosh-darned acronym. It's Gordon! I don't understand why they can't call me Gordon!" the alien, Gordon, complained. As he started to eat, he remarked, "This place is good for one thing, though. Their food's not too bad. Of course, I eat cats." Gordon quietly chuckled.

As he ate his food, he thought about his old life on his home planet of Melmac. He mostly thought about his girlfriend, Rhonda. And then, his thoughts turned to the night he was captured and taken to the base. "I was going to go back home…but then the headlights appeared, and…I guess I could say I sacrificed myself so my friends could escape. They're lucky they don't have to suffer the pain I have to," Gordon thought aloud.

Working at the base had caused some permanent physical damage to his body. His eyes used to be dark brown and covered his entire eye. Now, the white sclera was visible and he had small black pupils with white sparkles. When he finished his supper, he pushed the buzzer for Andrew. The warden came to the cell, collected the plates, and began to leave. As he walked out, Andrew snarled, "Don't try anything funny, #324."

The door locked. Gordon was alone again. He should've been asleep, but something inside him kept him awake. He reached under his bed and got out a photo album of the family that kept him safe before he was captured — the Tanners. As he looked through the photos, he felt his spirit run completely out. "Willie, Kate, Lynn, Brian, Eric…I know you're out there…just please, if you can…come get me outta here…" Gordon pleaded to the silence.

In the cell next to him, his cousin, Zack, heard and jumped up to the cell window bars. "If your Tanners ever come back, aren't they gonna save me, too?" he asked, referencing Gordon's obliviousness of his cousin, who also suffered the same torture he did. Gordon, who had teared up after looking at pictures of his human family, didn't respond. "Yo! Gordo, it's me, your cousin, Zack!" Zack called out.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess it'd be no problem to get you out too. Now, can you please go to sleep? I just wanna be to myself at the moment," Gordon answered, still looking at his pictures. "Goodnight, Gordo. See ya in the morning," Zack whispered, and then closed his sliding cover on the cell window bars. Gordon always kept his sliding cover open, in case he and Zack needed to have a conversation. That way, he could easily knock on Zack's window. Of course, that meant Zack could open his side in the middle of the night and wake Gordon up.

Gordon sighed, then looked back down at the album. He admired the picture of himself and the Tanners. Willie, Kate, Eric, Lynn, Brian, and himself. He then got up to look out the window that gave him a view of the fields of the base. He looked to the stars and closed his eyes. "Honestly, I'd rather go back to being called that darned acronym than having to suffer here for what seems like forever. ALF wasn't such a bad name," he thought aloud. Eventually, after lying in bed for a while, he went to sleep.

That morning, Gordon was basically out of it when he heard the door rattling. He yawned and stretched as Andrew came in with his breakfast and the man with the tools came in with his bag of tools. Gordon ate his breakfast first, then had to get his devices screwed and strapped back on. The tool-man screwed on Gordon's muzzle and ear caps. Then, he connected the helmet to the jumpsuit by buckling the straps from the helmet and the straps from the jumpsuit together. As Gordon gathered his tools for his work, the man screwed a ball-and-chain to his leg. After Gordon slung his tool bag over his shoulder, the man placed handcuffs on him and walked him outside the cell. The two burly guards escorted him out to the fields. Behind him strode two more burly guards and Zack, who was in a torture outfit identical to Gordon's.

As they walked out onto the field, the fierce California sun beat down on Gordon and Zack. Guards that were dressed for the heat and were armed were the guards that kept watch of the two aliens. Gordon and Zack's torture was to plant foliage around the parched landscape of the base. They had to grow grass every year before they grew food and flowers. Over the thirty years they had been there, they grew trees and tended to them every day of every year afterward. Growing anything was hard around the base because of the arid ground, extreme heat, and little rain. Right now, it was Summer, both a great and poor time to grow things.

"Zack, you water the trees 'round back. I'll water the trees upfront. When you're finished, start watering some of the food. Also, today's the day we plant our carrots. Do that after you water the food. And plant the flowers. That's also important," Gordon instructed. "Yes sir, Gordo," Zack replied, then scurried off to fill his watering can. Gordon went to the spigot to fill up his can, then came to the trees. As the water spilled over the trees, Gordon cooed, "There ya go, little guys." After he finished watering the trees, he filled his can up again and went to the front garden, and began to water the plants. He felt a glum feeling on the inside for the shriveling plants, which he tried so hard to keep alive.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the field, Zack was watering the back garden when Benjamin Rigoroso, an overseer at the base, came up to him. He had with him a lady with a clipboard, who was constantly jotting things down. "You see, Mrs. Lance, #424 is one of our aliens here at the base. Both of our aliens work in the fields. Now, #424, how much of your work have you gotten done?" he asked. "I'm watering the garden, sir. When I finish, I'll plant the carrots, sir," Zack answered. "Get it finished. Not too fast, not too slow. Make it last 'till day's end," Benjamin ordered. "Yes sir," Zack obeyed. Benjamin and Mrs. Lance began to walk to the front garden.

"#424 obeys everything I say. He takes a little while to finish his work, but he'll make it last 'till his workday is over. But, in advance, I have to apologize for the other alien you will see. His ID is #324, and he gets his work done, but a little too fast. He's had to do other jobs, too – particularly foul ones," Benjamin apologized. "What kind of punishments?" Mrs. Lance inquired. "Oh, cleansing the kitchens, unclogging pipes, emptying trash disposals, and — dare I say it — latrine duty," Benjamin winced. "Well, let's see this #324, shall we?"

As Benjamin and Mrs. Lance walked to the front garden, Gordon was planting the carrots. As he placed seeds into the ground, he said, "I hope you grow up to be an adult carrot so I don't have to be punished for not being able to grow food." He covered them with soil and patted them as if he were giving them a blessing. As he moved to dig another hole, Benjamin and Mrs. Lance appeared in front of him. "Mr. Rigoroso, sir, who is this lady?" Gordon asked. Benjamin acted surprised at Gordon's disrespect, and quietly barked his ID number. "#324." Mrs. Lance, staring at her clipboard, answered, "I'm Mrs. Lance. I'm an inspector on the Alien Task Force. I've come to examine Edwards base." Gordon nodded to show that he understood. "What task are you doing at the moment?" Benjamin inquired. "What's it look like, Mr. Rigoroso, sir? Planting carrots, that's what, sir," Gordon quipped. He grinned under his helmet and muzzle.

Benjamin was truly surprised now. To silently warn Gordon, he put his hand near the taser on his belt. "Ya' know, I don't really understand why they can't do this work too and help me and Z — er, #424 out a little. I'm not saying I don't like it, because I love it, but…" Gordon was cut short.

Benjamin had had enough. He yanked out his taser and shocked Gordon. He was knocked back. "Yo', Mr. Rigoroso, sir, w-w-what's the problem?" Gordon asked, stunned. "YOU!" Benjamin yelled as he shocked Gordon again. He was knocked to the ground this time. "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Rigoroso?" Mrs. Lance screamed. "Y-y-yeah, Mr. Rigoroso, sir, w-w-what's the meaning of this?" Gordon exclaimed. Benjamin remained silent. "Please, just stop this nonsense!" "Not a chance, Mrs. Lance, not a chance," Benjamin murmured. He pushed the button on his taser, and in a second, something went flying — Gordon's helmet. Then, Mrs. Lance screamed, Benjamin was knocked away, and Gordon yelped and began to let tears flow. Benjamin shocked Gordon, and his muzzle was split in two. "He's finished," Benjamin snarled. Mrs. Lance was paralyzed with fear as she and Benjamin walked away.

Gordon lay on the ground, his body still convulsing with electricity. His nose and cheeks had started to ache. Zack had heard Mrs. Lance's screams, and only before running to see what happened, finished watering the plants. "Gordon! Oh, no," Zack exclaimed as he ran to his stupefied cousin. "Gordo, are you okay? Speak to me, cousin, speak!" Gordon opened his eyes wearily. They were filled with fear. "Oh, Zack? Is that you? I'm not okay…Benjamin started to shock me with his taser. Repeatedly. My helmet flew off — it's over there — and he split my muzzle open. B-b-but don't worry! I think I still have enough strength to work," Gordon explained. He seized Zack's outstretched hand and clumsily regained his balance. "But Gordon, you're still shaking from the shock! You're in a pretty weak state...I'm gonna go get a guard, okay? Now you just, uh, sit down, and I'll be back with help in a second. Just stay calm!" Zack exclaimed as he ran to a guard. Gordon groaned as he plopped down beside a cabbage.

After a couple minutes or so, Zack returned with a guard. Gordon had laid his hand on his cheek in pain. "What seems to be the problem, #324?" The guard asked. "Mr. Rigoroso… he whammied me," Gordon breathed as he dropped his hand from his face. He had started to bleed, as evidenced by the green blood on his hand and cheek. "Do you need a doctor?" "No, I don't think so. I mean, yeah, I'm bleeding, but I'll be fine with something wrapped around it. I can still work, no problem," Gordon answered before passing out.

When he came to, he was lying under an AC in the hospital wing with several ice packs on his nose. "How long was I out?" Gordon wondered aloud. "Almost three hours," one of the doctors answered. Gordon's eyes widened. "Three hours? But…my work! I haven't finish—" "#424 is getting it done for you. Please relax." Gordon leaned back in his bed. Over ten minutes later, a guard brought Gordon a helmet, ear caps, and a muzzle. "Mr. Ziegfeld wants to see you, #324," he reported as he applied the devices.

Gordon gulped. Mr. Ziegfeld was the head of Edwards base. He had had to see him several times in the past, and it usually was what followed getting tased.

After getting them applied, he hobbled out of his bed and limped to Mr. Ziegfeld's office. He knocked on the door, then asked, "Can I come in, Mr. Ziegfeld, sir? It's me, Go—I mean, #324." "Yes, you may." Gordon limped into the office and found Mr. Ziegfeld sitting at his desk. "I know I've asked many times before, but why did you do this, #324?" Mr. Ziegfeld inquired. "I…Was feeling pressured because of the inspector, and when I'm under stress, I joke around. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. Please forgive me, sir," Gordon answered, with a very solemn tone of voice. "Make sure it never happens again. Edwards may be put in jeopardy of shutting down. Behave yourself, #324. Have a good rest of your day."

Gordon nodded in agreement and then limped out to the grounds. He found Zack planting carrots in the front garden. "Zack, you can go back to the back garden now. I've got my devices. I can work," Gordon called. "But I already finished the back! I'm doing your side now–" "Listen, you can help me, sound good?" Gordon compromised. Zack nodded. For the rest of the day, Gordon and Zack finished planting the carrots and planting the flowers.

Just after the last flower was planted and watered, the ending bell rang. Four guards came out, two for each of them. They were both handcuffed and brought back to their cells. Andrew looked to the guards today, not Gordon. "Did he get his work done?" "Yes sir." "Very well. Get in there, #324," Andrew mumbled. Gordon limped into his cell and fell onto his bed. "Don't you dare try to remove the helmet and handcuffs." Gordon could tell Andrew was shamed at what had happened.

Besides the fact that he had kidded around a little bit, the incident wasn't his fault at all. Joking around was his natural way of dealing with issues. Ever since he had arrived at the base, he joked around with himself, his cousin, and all the overseers the base ever had. His joking always got him in trouble with his overseers. They always tased him, and he never understood why they tased him for his natural way of coping.

He was brought out of his thoughts when the Tool-man and Andrew came into the cell. The Tool-man didn't speak at all today. He just removed Gordon's helmet, ear caps, muzzle, and handcuffs, and left. He barely even looked at Gordon. Andrew just wheeled the cart with food to Gordon's bed, and then grumbled, "Just eat and then buzz me, do you understand?" The cell door slammed shut.

The day's events had completely made Gordon forget about his appetite. He wolfed down his supper, oblivious to his thoughts. After finishing, he pushed the buzzer, scurried back to his bed, and straightened his posture to look presentable. Andrew didn't talk at all. Gordon flashed his four-toothed smile.

When the warden left, Gordon remembered a dream he had while he was unconscious. It was about himself escaping from the base. He would put on his ear caps, muzzle, and helmet. He would dump a pile of sand on his bed and put his extra jumpsuit and his gloves on it. In the night, when all the guards were sleeping, Gordon would sneak out. He would get into the case where all the keys to the base's motorcycles were kept. He would grab one key, match it to its motorcycle, walk the motorcycle far out from the base, and then put the key in and ride off.

It was a dangerous plan. He might get captured, and the Alien Task Force would do unimaginable things to him, but whatever they would do to him would put him out of his misery. But Gordon thought his plan just might work. He was sure of it. He looked at the time. It was almost 10:00, the time all the agents had to go to sleep. It was the perfect time for Gordon to flee.

He knocked on Zack's cell window. "Hi, Gordo, how ya doin'?" Zack greeted. "Yeah, hi, Zack, but I need to tell you something. I'm escaping," Gordon whispered. "No, you couldn't be!" "Shhh. Listen, when you see Andrew and he asks where I'm at, tell him Melmacians disintegrate after experiencing too much violence, and that I've disintegrated. I'll put a pile of sand in my cell and some of my spare clothes on it. He'll believe it." "But…what about me? If you're escaping, I'm still here!" "Just imagine if I escaped but they caught me, and you were with me. They'd be sure to-" Gordon slid his finger across his neck, "—do away with both of us, and I don't want you to get hurt." Zack looked sadly into Gordon's eyes. "But…what about you? What if you get caught? They'd do away with you, and…I'll lose you," he asked. Gordon sighed. "No one's awake. I've worked overtime and I've seen them go to sleep. They all go to bed at the exact same time, and they can't be woken up. Just remember the plan, okay?" Zack nodded. "Great. Now…Goodbye, cousin. I'll see you again someday when I find the Tanners. I'll be made legal. We'll be made legal. Then I'll return and we'll be free aliens together. But, for now, goodbye," Gordon explained. "Goodbye, Gordon Shumway. You make me proud out there!" Zack exclaimed. The cousins held hands for a second, and then Gordon went to put his muzzle and helmet on. He already had his ear caps on. He looked back once more before going out on his escape route. He and Zack sadly waved at each other.

Gordon tapped the wall. Surprisingly, a revolving door began to spin around. He then remembered that the base used to be a prison, which it still was, but for humans instead of aliens. One of the human prisoners must've dug an escape tunnel. Gordon made sure he had everything before he ventured down the tunnel. When he proceeded down the tunnel, he found a cloth to put on the door to hide the cracks.

After a few steps, the tunnel was a hole that went straight down. "Huh. So this is what Alice felt like when she went down the rabbit hole," Gordon thought. He landed on a soft mattress. There was a long, dark tunnel that Gordon thought was never-ending. "Good thing I brought a flashlight," Gordon chuckled as he grasped a flashlight from his jumpsuit belt. He ambled quickly through the tunnel until he found a door. It immediately led to the case where the motorcycle keys were kept.

"If I ever meet the dude who dug this escape route, I gotta give him a big thank you," Gordon exclaimed, wiping his forehead. He read the number on the key. #4. He knew which motorcycle #4 was. Nobody ever rode it, unless they needed to ride to someplace quickly and quietly. Gordon was still going to walk it out to the county line, which was only about thirty minutes away.

By the time he reached the county line, he was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. "Just my luck that I'm covered almost entirely with fur and this is California," he muttered. He put the key into the motorcycle and it revved up, but very silently. He hopped onto the seat, grabbed the handlebars, and then rode off into the night. He had gotten rather lucky for no one to have caught him. He just didn't know where he was going. But then it popped into his mind. Los Angeles.

"Yeah, I'll go to Los Angeles. It's a little while away from here, but I'm farther from this base that way," Gordon thought.

After several hours, the motorcycle was almost out of gas. Luckily, a gas station was just a few minutes away. When he looked at the gas sign, Gordon gasped. "$4.99 for a gallon of gas? These humans must be crazy!" he exclaimed. He didn't have any money, let alone enough money to fill up the motorcycle. Right then, a maroon truck caught his eye. Gordon ran up to the window. The man driving gave him a confused look.

"Who are you?" he asked. "I am a…uhh…an average person with a small height disadvantage. I'm also an actor. That's why I'm in this getup. I need to go to Los Angeles, but my motorcycle ran out of gas and I don't have any money. Do you happen to be going to Los Angeles?" Gordon explained. "Yeah, little buddy. That's where I'm going. You need a ride?" the man asked. Gordon nodded. "Hop in." You could barely tell, but Gordon's little stubby tail wagged like a dog's as he opened the passenger's side door and jumped in. The man started the truck and drove back onto the road. The motorcycle was left beside the store.

After a while, the man had gotten bored, so he asked, "What movie are you making?" "Uh…Can't tell ya'." "Well, the least you can tell me is what it's about." "Oh…Aliens. Outer space. The Solar System. That kinda stuff."

As they rode down the road, Gordon felt his eyes grow heavy. He looked to the side of the road. Every sign he saw reassured him that he would be in Los Angeles by morning. Then he curled up in his seat, knowing he'd be in beautiful Los Angeles when he awoke, and then drifted off into a deep sleep.