Amusing Aliens
The Day the Earth Moved
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Chapter 3. Interrogation

"Step out of the car, please Miss," snapped the crop-haired policewoman.
WPC Tracy French was not having a good day. Sharon had broken up with her at breakfast. Then, baby Shaun threw up over her new uniform and she had to put on the blue serge outfit which made her bum look big. But that hadn't stopped Inspector Bolger groping her in the canteen after lunch. Then she'd lost her contact lenses arresting a pickpocket who'd nicked a packet of hobnobs from Tesco's. Finally, PC Boddington said he'd seen a UFO and insisted they chase the posh tart in a flash BMW who was now giving her lip. To cap it all she had a splitting headache and had left her tampons at home. She pinned Romola to the bonnet of the car and ran her hands up the back of her legs.

"That's an expensive pair of knickers you're skirt's tucked into —Dolce & Gabbana, are they?"
"Oh shit!" said Romola, and spun round.
"Don't move!" snapped the policewoman, sliding her hand over Romola's expensive lingerie
"I don't think you'll find a flying saucer there", said Romola. "Or in THERE - ohh, your hands are cold!"
"Perhaps it was a bouncy castle you saw, " suggested Gerald.
"Bouncy castle?" repeated PC Boddington.
"Like the one over there," he added, pointing to the spot where Yyerg's ship had been.
The officers heads swiveled round.
"Bugger me!" said PC Boddington. "Where did that come from?"
"My knickers?" suggested Romola.
"You're really asking for it," said WPC French, plunging her hand into Romola's panties.
"Ohh, I can tell you've done that before."
"So, where's the green alien with eight legs?" demanded the policewoman.
"Perhaps he's disguised himself as a dyke with a big bottom."
Romola winced as the policewoman grabbed her crotch.
"Where's the alien?" she repeated.
"I keep - telling you.." gasped Romola, "I — I don't know anything about an alien."
"Or a flying saucer," added Gerald.
"Then why didn't you stop when we chased you?"
"I thought you might be muggers."
"In a marked police car with the siren going?"
"It might've been stolen. Can you smell fish?"

WPC French spun Romola round, kicked her legs apart, and jabbed her truncheon into her crotch.
Gerald was about to object when PC Boddington gripped his arm and said warningly: "Don't even think about it. The last bloke that fucked with WPC French is still looking for his nuts."
Romola clutched at the bonnet, breathing hard. "Ohh, you're good. "Did they teach you that at Police College or do you just like getting into a girl's pants?"
"You think you're very clever, don't you, Miss tiny tits?"
"Apparently not clever enough to fool a dyke with a fish up her big backside."
"OK, that's it. You're nicked!"
"What for?"
"Tucking your skirt into your knickers will do for starters, you posh slut!"
"Now, look here, officer—" objected Gerald.
"—Either you tell us where the fucking alien is or I'll arrest you both for gross indecency in a public place," snarled WPC French.
"G-Gr-Gross indecency?" stammered Gerald, trying to hide the damp patch on his trousers.
"I knew it must be an offence to have a bum that big," said Romola.
WPC French slapped her truncheon viciously across Romola's legs.
"I'm going to really enjoy making you regret you said that."
"Promise?"

"I've found it!" shouted Boddington.
"Where?"
"On the back seat!"
"Oh Hell!" said Gerald.
Romola's hand flew to her mouth as the policewoman pushed her aside, wrenched open the back door, and reached for the blanket.
"Not quite so cocky now are we? Well — is there anything you'd like to tell me, Miss Designer panties?"
"Lose the fish scent — it doesn't do much for your sex appeal."
WPC French brought her truncheon down on Romola's shoulder.
"It's all her fault!" shouted Gerald
"You idiot!" said Romola, rubbing her arm.
"I wanted no part of it. I knew it was illegal, but she insisted."
"So you admit you DID see a UFO," asked Boddington.
"Yes."
"I can explain..." began Romola.
"Shut it!" snarled WPC French. "Unless you want this up your designer arse!"
"What about the alien?" continued Boddington
"Romola insisted we take him with us."
"I can explain everything, Offic—"
"—I won't tell you again, bitch!" said WPC French.
"So there IS a green alien with eight legs under that blanket!" exclaimed Boddington.
"No," said the policewoman, pulling back the blanket, "but there is a monkey in a checked sports jacket fucking a Prada handbag."

"What?!" said Boddington, craning forward.
Gerald gaped. Romola giggled. Yyerg had turned into a small chimpanzee which was rubbing it's bottom enthusiastically against her handbag while munching contentedly on a chocolate hobnob.
She realized that Yyerg must have cloaked himself and turned her sweetest smile on the policeman. "I tried to explain but your butch colleague preferred to listen to the fantasies of a lunatic."
"I'm not a lunatic!" objected Gerald.
"You know you are, darling. He's a very sick boy, Officer. I'm his therapist. I took him into the woods to calm him down. That was when he tried to bugger my monkey. I'm sorry if we've caused you any trouble..."
Boddington trembled as Romola leant over him to comfort Yyerg. A perfumed tendril of long, dark hair brushed his cheek; her deep, blue eyes brought a lump to his throat. Her black lace panties brought an even bigger lump to his trousers. "So t-this is y-your monkey, Miss?" he stammered.
"Exactly, officer. He's part of the treatment, too."
"So w-where's the alien?"
"There isn't one. It was my monkey you must have seen playing in the bouncy castle."
"So why did your b-boyfriend — your patient — say he saw a flying saucer?" asked Boddington, trying very hard to ignore the jeweled belly button inches away from his face.
Romola showed a bit more midriff. The lump in his trousers grew bigger.
"I've told you — he's sick, Officer. He doesn't know what he's doing. Last week he thought he was a gorilla and tried to push a banana up my monkey's bottom in Tesco's."
Boddington pictured the scene and felt himself growing uncomfortably hot. Romola felt Boddington feeling himself growing uncomfortably hot and hitched her blouse up higher. He swallowed and took a step back.
"I - I - I'm n-not convinced Miss."
Romola took a step forward. Boddington took two steps back but the bulge in his trousers remained where it was. Romola leant against him and brushed his cheek with her soft lips. The bulge was anything but soft and struggled to get closer to her knickers. Her lips moved on to his ear.
"He did THAT in a packed supermarket?"
"Yes - and not just over the cream cakes."
"Pervert!" shouted Boddington. The bulge in his pants shouted something quite different.
"It's a pack of lies! I stained my trousers in the toilet when she turned the tap full on," objected Gerald.
"You see?" said Romola, pulling her skirt out off her pants and smoothing it down. "He really is a very sick boy."

Boddington stared at Gerald. "I c-can see that, Miss. But I definitely followed a UFO into these woods."
"Leave it, Frank", said WPC French. "Who knows what you saw. All I know is I've got a splitting headache and the last thing I want to do is to spend all night explaining to the duty sergeant how a crashed UFO changed into a bouncy castle and why we arrested a nympho and her twisted boyfriend for shagging their pet monkey."
"Well — when you put it like that..." said Boddington. "Perhaps we could just arrest her?"
"Do you really want to shag a flat-chested slag who's being screwed by a chocolate eating monkey?"
"Perhaps not..."

© 2003 Miranda S Givings. Revised 24th April 2006
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