The name on everybody's lips is gonna be…Muffy!
The lady eating fish and chips is gonna be…Muffy!
I'm gonna be a celebrity
That means somebody everyone knows
They're gonna recognize my face
My eyes, my teeth, my shoes, my clothes
Instead of some car salesman's daughter I'm gonna be…Muffy!
Who says that whining's not an art?
(To the tune of "Roxie" from the musical Chicago)
"What's wrong?" Muffy asked the alien hairdresser, who had just arranged her hair in spiraling Princess Leia braids.
The green, three-eyed man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "The dwess will have to go," he said with a thick accent. "It is far too distwacting."
Muffy looked down and picked up the hem of her optical fiber dress; she could see her own face speaking as she replied to the hairdresser. "But I love this dress. What do you expect me to wear, a potato bag?"
"What is wong with, as you Earthwings call it, your birthday suit?" asked the hairdresser.
"I didn't get a suit for my birthday," said Muffy, puzzled.
Another figure walked hastily into the salon—a tall woman with a long, pointed nose, whose black hair spread out like palm leaves. "Is Miss Crosswire ready to make her appearance?" she inquired.
"Just a few minutes more, Gandoline," replied the green man. "There is a small matter of her dwess."
The alien woman peered at Muffy's attire through wide purple eyes. "That won't do at all," she stated. "The reflection of the lights will create a tremendous glare. Take it off."
Muffy gaped in astonishment. "Take it off? But I have nothing else to wear!"
"Take it off at once," insisted Gandoline.
"But…but…" Muffy stammered. "But I can't go on interplanetary TV in my underwear!"
"Then take that off as well," said the woman curtly.
Horrified, Muffy turned to the hairdresser, as if hoping he would defend her decency. Instead, the green man faced Gandoline and said, "It is vewy common for Earthwings to be ashamed of their naked form."
"I am not going out there in the buff!" Muffy snapped.
Gandoline knelt and began to speak gently to her. "I understand that this is the first time you've left your planet. What you need to understand is that the races of the Alliance have customs different from your own. There's one thing they mostly agree on, however—seeing an unfamiliar alien in a state of undress can be an illuminating experience."
"You're all pervs," grumbled Muffy.
"You've spent time in Elci Kahaf," the alien woman pointed out. "No doubt you saw hundreds of people walking the streets without a shred of clothing."
"Yes," Muffy admitted, "but that's different. They're aliens."
"From our point of view, you're an alien," stated Gandoline.
"No, I'm not," said Muffy incredulously. "I'm from Earth."
In a small hotel hundreds of miles from Elci Kahaf, the Nordgrens were being treated to a strange but delicious breakfast. Behind George's back, an alien with gray rhino-like skin was pouring a milky substance directly into a hole in the top of its head, and making a loud slurping noise. George grimaced and turned back to his hard-boiled eggs, only to discover, when he took a bite out of one, that they were actually crunchy.
"They're like candy eggs," said Sal as she tried to stuff an entire one into her mouth.
"Yeah," said George thoughtfully. "Laid by a candy bird."
As they enjoyed the repast, one odd-looking person after another filed into the dining room. Some took the available seats, while others remained standing; one in particular had four legs and no need of a chair. "What are they all staring at?" Mrs. Nordgren wondered. "It's like they've never seen humans before."
"It's a safe bet they haven't," her husband remarked.
"They're not staring at us," said George. "They're staring at the TV."
They looked over to the wall, on which was mounted a display screen roughly ten feet wide. On it was unfolding a solemn occasion in a stately hall, with about two dozen aliens seated, some dressed formally, a few not dressed at all. Gandoline stood at the center of the venue, addressing the others in a sputter-heavy language.
"Klaatu berrada Muffy Crosswire nikto," she proclaimed.
The moose children's eyes went wide with excitement. "It's Muffy!" they exclaimed.
Eager repetitions of the name Muffy were heard throughout the room. "They're all waiting to see her," Mr. Nordgren realized.
As George and Sal witnessed breathlessly, Muffy stepped out of a corridor into the meeting hall, wearing only her shoes, stockings, and slip. "Oh, my…" George blurted out.
"She's indecent!" cried Mrs. Nordgren.
Murmurs of pleasure filled the dining room as the gathered aliens watched Muffy take her place at the stand. The flimsily dressed girl smiled at the camera and waved at the participants and the audience. She began to speak, but instead of the girlish voice they knew, the bass voice of an alien translator greeted their ears.
"Gosh, I wish this were in English," said George glumly. "This may be the last time I ever hear her voice."
Mrs. Nordgren pried her eyes from the TV screen long enough to look over her shoulder—and find that her daughter was in the act of unclothing herself. "Sal! What in heaven's name…" she scolded.
"Everybody's doing it," said Sal, tossing her dress to one side. The aliens paid little heed as the moose girl waltzed around the room in only her underpants.
Light years away in the city of Washington, D.C., the Secretary of Defense burst into the Oval Office with a look of concern on his face. "Mr. President, we have a situation," he declared.
"Yes, Donald?" said the President of the United States.
"I've just received word from the governor of Minnesota," the Secretary of Defense told him. "Thousands of cat women have appeared out of nowhere. I think it could be the beginning of an invasion."
to be continued