Irxul pointed into the park. “We walk in there at the exact time, and we’ll be transported back to our planet.”
“Yep,” Pixuc grunted.
“But we’re always delayed.” Irxul began to pace. “Every ten years, you insist on staying to study some part of human culture more.”
“First it was Elvis, then James Bond movies, then the many kinds of pizza to eat. What next?”
Irxul glared at Pixuc. “So just tell me, can we go home now?”
Irxul’s quivered, “Really? You mean it?”
Pixuc held up his cell phone, “I’m up to ten-thousand followers on Instagram!”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers: https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/01/29/31-january-2020/