Question Period

Question Period

Press Secretary Prentiss stopped speaking. The swarm of media people began muttering. Prentiss held up one hand in a halting motion.

“Are there any questions?”

Hands shot up, some waving frantically. Prentiss pointed at the face attached to one of the hands in the front.

“Matt?”

The man he indicated asked a long, convoluted question that Prentiss obviously couldn’t follow.

“I’ll refer that to the President,” he answered vaguely.

Matt was about to come up with another question, but Prentiss had already chosen another hand in the crowd.

“Andrea?”

“Speaking of the President, when can we hear his side of this story?”

“The President is in seclusion now, working on that.”

Prentiss continued to choose reporters at random and give vague answers to all questions. Discontented mutterings rose among the gathered press.

A long, thin blue arm rose from the back of the crowd. Prentiss peered toward it.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, son. What paper are you affiliated with? “

“Inter-Galactic World,” came the reply in perfect, if stilted English.

“And your question is?”

“Since your leader has chosen not to appear today. What can we imply from that?”

“I’m not sure what you’re saying...”

“Does it mean you are open to invasion? Does Earth need a new leader?”

Prentiss was non-plussed.

“Answer the question,” the reporter insisted.

“That’s all for now, people.” Prentiss said and turned to leave the podium. The media reps turned to look for the one among them that had asked that last question. Soon they were screaming and panicking when they saw a multi-armed gelatinous creature wearing a fedora with a press pass tucked in the ribbon. Security came rushing in, expecting a riot, but the alien had disappeared.

“Well, Prentiss. How did it go?” the President asked. “As usual, sir.”