Welcome, friend.

Have a seat by the fire.

Make yourself comfortable. The night sky spread above like some vast obsidian ocean.

From this velvet shroud, the visitors drifted, watching, observing, geometries of nightmare, faceless, saddened cold.

Yet even these beings, for all their unimaginable advancement were not beyond error.

The vessel, a disk forged of living metal that pulsed with alien will faltered.

It tumbled, silent and blazing, and struck the earth with a violence that shook the ground for miles.

In the smoking crater it left behind lay an artifact, gleaming and inscrutable.

A gift, perhaps for the small-minded creatures below, who would prod, pry, and tease its secrets.

All the while, blind to the gaze that might one day turn back upon them.

You're listening to Camp Fire Radio Theater.

Tonight's tale speaks once again to one of our favorite subjects,

the folly of man. And the lengths that humans will go to to enrich themselves with

unearned wisdom. The play is written by John Ballantyneighton and titled Fallen Angel

Hey miss, you sure I can't get you a beer or something?

Uh, maybe a soda?

Soda?

You don't want something a little stouter?

Not right now.

Thanks.

You seem kind of, kind of distracted.

You wait on somebody?

...