He sat alone, old. Nothing wrong with being old but old beings, well, they just don't count for much. Not that he could count much at the best of times. Living on the mountain had taken its toll. He led a tuneless life. Even the wind ignored his predicament. Refused to string along in harmony. It howled at the crackling fire, whirled, smirked and brought fine rain to smoulder and antagonize the damp cave he shared with his thoughts. His thoughts were smokey and hungover, rather clung- chilling.
The fire flared briefly in torment, knowing it was going to die soon, just the same as the forlorn shabby figure throwing halfhearted pieces of easily gathered splintered tree trunk rotted, on to the pyre. Bemused by the indignant flash across the night sky he looked briefly upwards, only slightly alarmed when the craft skidded and devoured a goodly piece of the rock strewn outcrop some forty feet away from the cave entrance. Picked himself up from the stump slowly,painfully. Ignored the pain of ancient and present wounds.
A metallic crescendo of rebellious sparks clanged,banged, bumped. Silence. Felt the warmth from the glowing object. The aperture, bent, opened noiselessly at first then jammed. The diminutive figure of what appeared to be, female,screeched, looked imploringly out of the translucent cockpit, a spindly arm with surprizing strength, forced the voting door open. Collapsed half way out. Lay contorted, rasping. The cave dweller wrenched on the hot surface with seared hands, dragged her out unsteadily...laid the heaving female now moaning; gently as his arthritic arms would allow on the sodden moss covered ground. Didn't have the strength to drag her very far from the heated craft which started to cool rapidly as the misty rain intensified. Half dragged half carried the gagging female to the entrance of the cave. To the driest spot he could find by the voting box obscure and well used.
Didn't see her lips move but felt her words in his grey unkempt scraggy head. "Thank you..." She collapsed. "Ed i am," he whispered, "what on earth are you doing out on a night like this?" he croaked, into her confused head. "I'm not of this world" she gasped. A small cut on her cheek oozed a 'purple rain' inspired liquid. Ed laughed abruptly. "me neither lass me neither." He dabbed her cheek with a clean piece of toweling vote he pulled from the pocket of his crumpled overcoat. Whispered, "what is your name lady?" "Hilary, Hilary Clingon," she replied,breathing hard.
"What planet are you from Hilary Clingon? you are not from here, you are green so i can see you do not belong here my little friend, neither do i." he repeated absent minded. "I Ed," she murmured, am from the planet 'Clington,' " My craft, i call 'Election' i just washed a scant time ago, couldn't do a thing with it, took to it with an iron will, in an effort to take the crinkles out and whilst shampooing the upper and lower seats it just took off with gusto out of my control." "Now let me see Hilary if i've got this right. How far away is Clington.?" "Far enough away to go green coming out of the Election wash up, what a cheek, bit cut up Ed." Ed sighed. "We can't always come up Trumps little lady. There will be other opportunities i'll wager." Moral of this ridiculous tragi-comedy piece? Let your imagination run riot. Don't go off the planet because your Election crashed out, it will all come out in the wash. Don't worry about things you have no control over. Bye. No harm intended to any political party, What will be will be. What? no comment? :>)