The idea for "Winner" came to me during the awards season. I wondered what an alien
awards ceremony might be like and what the trophies would commemorate.
For several years, I've been primarily an author of audio plays. I have had over 150
of them produced in the U.S. and overseas. In 2016, I won a Moondance International
Film Festival award for my TV pilot script "The Bullying Squad" and a semi-finalist
award for my audio play "The Forever Pill."
My prose work has appeared in DIME SHOW REVIEW (including in their second "best of"
anthology), GATHERING STORM MAGAZINE, ZEROFLASH, INWOOD INDIANA PRESS (also in their
Prolific Press anthology THE POP MACHINE), ZETETIC: A RECORD OF UNUSUAL INQUIRY,
WITH CANDLELIGHT, and THE FLASH FICTION PRESS.
In 2015, my script "The Candy Man" was produced as a short film under the title DARK
CHOCOLATE. In 2013, I won the Marion Thauer Brown Audio Drama Scriptwriting
Competition.
As the music died
down, the hostess
oozed out from
backstage and slid
behind the lectern.
She was bulbous,
slimy, and very
smelly. To the
mostly male
audience, her odor
was the sweetest of
perfumes. She began
speaking in a
chirpy voice. 'And
now, the award
you've been waiting
for: Best Attack on
an Alien World
Daring to Threaten
the Vaneezian
Assembly.'
The aliens' version
of applause ' more
a clicking than a
clapping ' rose up,
and the hostess
continued. 'The
nominees are:
Trelek for his
attack on Alpha
Sartanas.' Polite
clicking. 'Pollif
for his attack on
Charbrel.' Again,
polite clicking.
'And,' she went on,
'Quignak for his
attack on Bunnsar.'
The applause grew
deafening.
'And the winner
is,' she said,
slowly opening the
envelope with the
dexterous digits of
her one, eight-
fingered hand,
'Quignak for his
attack on Bunnsar!'
The applause came
again, louder and
longer. 'I am
thrilled to inform
you,' the hostess
offered, 'that
Quignak has
returned from his
latest expedition
and is here to
accept this award.'
The spotlight hit
Quignak as he
slithered onto the
stage. The applause
shook the hall. He
approached the
lectern and, as the
prolonged clicking
died down, began to
speak. 'Members of
the Assembly,' he
said in a deep
bass, 'thank you
for this honor. The
work is its own
reward.' The
audience clicked
loudly at their
warrior's humility.
'From time
immemorial,' he
went on, 'we have
safeguarded
ourselves by
preemptively
launching attacks
on worlds posing a
threat to us. Long
ago,' Quignak
continued, 'the
council decided to
preserve these
attacks on video as
a record of our
incomparable
military history.'
A large screen
lowered from the
ceiling. As Quignak
assumed the role of
narrator, it showed
' to the crowd's
utter delight '
bloody, violent,
explosive footage
of strafing runs on
unarmed civilians
and other
highlights. 'The
attack on Bunnsar
was glorious. We
were able to record
the destruction of
the capital, its
spaceport, and its
very fragile
population.'
He looked at the
hostess, who was
happily crying. 'In
closing,' he went
on, 'I bring you
news: Tomorrow, my
men and I head for
a world that is
daring to threaten
us with hostile
long-range probes.'
The onscreen attack
scenes were
replaced with an
image of a
beautiful world.
'Notice the lovely
colors,' Quignak
pointed out. 'Most
of the planets we
destroy are bland
in appearance. This
world will present
an opportunity to
record an attack in
vivid color.'
The crowd clicked
wildly. Quignak
held up his one,
eight-fingered hand
to silence them. 'I
hope,' he
concluded, 'to be
standing before you
next year accepting
this same award for
my attack on that
small planet known
as. . . Earth.'
He turned and
slithered off the
stage to thunderous
clicking and
patriotic music.
