Chapter 4 Chapter Four

Tricia began to feel that the whole world was conspiring against her.She knew that this feeling was actually quite normal, after all, she had just flown to the east overnight, and suddenly there was a whole day in her pocket mysteriously and aggressively killing you by surprise.But you know you know, alas. There are marks on her lawn. She didn't really mind marks on the lawn.The marks on the lawn can be done as you like, she doesn't care, just like a paranoid.All she wanted was to lie in bed, turn the volume down on the radio, and drift off to sleep, listening to Ned Schelling's clever one-liners.

But Eric Bart Little was not going to let her get away with it, he insisted on checking those marks thoroughly first.Eric, the old gardener in town, came to her garden every Saturday morning and poked here and there with a stick.He didn't trust the people who came from New York early in the morning, and he was a little disgusted with them, thinking that these people violated the laws of nature.But he basically believed in everything else. "Probably those aliens." He bent down and poked a stick at the edge of the jagged indentation. "I've been hearing about aliens a lot lately. I guess it's them."

"Really?" Tricia glanced at her watch secretly.Ten minutes, she estimated.She could still stand for ten minutes before she had to kneel, either in her bedroom or in the garden.This again assumes that she just needs to stand still.If she was asked to nod with wit from time to time and say "Really?", the time would probably be cut in half. "Oh, that's right," said Eric. "They come here, land on your lawn, and buzz away, and sometimes take your cat by the hand. Williams of the Post Office Ma'am, her cat—the ginger one, you know?—had been abducted by aliens. Of course, they brought him back the next day, but he's been in a weird mood ever since. Sneaking around every morning, then sleeping in the afternoon. The problem is that it used to be the opposite, sleeping in the morning and sneaking in the afternoon. Jet lag. You see, because of the starship .”

"Yes." Tricia replied. "They also stained it with stripes, she said. The marks are exactly the same as the ones their pods might have made." "Don't you think it might be a lawnmower?" Tricia asked. "If they were rounder, maybe, but these aren't round at all, you see. The shape is more alien in general." "It's just that I remember you mentioning that there's something wrong with the lawn mower, and it needs to be fixed, or it might dig holes in the lawn." "I said that, Miss Tricia, and I've always been a reliable talker. I didn't say it was definitely not the lawn mower, I just told you which one is more likely based on the shape of the hole. They came down from those trees, you see, in their pods..."

"Eric..." Tricia was very patient. "But, Miss Tricia, let me tell you," Eric said, "I'm going to check out the lawn mower. I was going to check it out last week. Now you can do whatever you want. .” "Thanks, Eric," Tricia said. "I'm actually going to sleep. There's something to eat in the kitchen. You can help yourself." "Thank you, Miss Tricia, and good luck." With that said, Eric bent down to pick something up from the lawn. "Here," he said, "a three-leaf clover. You see, good luck." He took a closer look to see if it really only had three leaves, maybe it was an ordinary four-leaf clover that had lost a leaf. "However, if I were you, I would pay careful attention to the activities of aliens nearby." He carefully checked the situation on the horizon, "Especially over there, in the direction of Henry."

"Thank you, Eric." Tricia thanked again, "I will." She got into bed, dreaming fitfully about parrots and other birds.In the afternoon she woke up and wandered about listlessly, not knowing what to do with the rest of the day, and the rest of her life.She spent at least an hour indecisive, trying to make up her mind whether to go to town or spend the night at Stavro's club. It was a trendy place for aspiring media people these days, and meeting friends there might help her get back on track.In the end she decided to go to Stavro's.It's a nice place, very happy.She also liked Stavro, who was Greek with a German father—an odd combination.Tricia had been at Alpha two days before, Staflow's first club in New York, now run by his brother Carl.Karl, unlike Stavro, considered himself a German with a Greek mother.Cal was making a fool of himself in the New York store, and Staflo was sure to be pleased, so Tricia decided to go and make him happy.There really wasn't much brotherly love to be found between Stavro and Karl Moura.

OK.Ok, deal. Then she spent another hour indecisive about what to wear.At last she made up her mind, and happened to buy a pretty little black dress in New York, which she would wear tonight.She called a friend and asked who would be there; she was told that someone was getting married tonight and that there was a private party there, not open to the public. She sighed secretly, that's right, you can come up with various plans to plan your life, but if you want to implement them step by step, it's like looking for ingredients in a supermarket with a recipe in hand, you will spread a broken car Trolleys, no matter what, won't go in the direction you push them, and end up with a cart of something completely different.What should you do with them?What should you do with your cookbook?she does not know.

By the way, an alien spaceship landed on her lawn that night.