When the aliens arrived, we were unready.
   We were just sitting around the dinner table, mindlessly chattering when the knock came. With a welcoming smile, Grandpa went to the door, swung it open, and was instantly vaporized. Horrified, we watched our grandfather's ashes slowly settle to the floor. The door creaked shut.
   "Aliens!" Grandma whispered, looking at each of us in turn.
   A few moments of silence followed. And then, another knock.
   This time Grandma grabbed her dead husband's shotgun, signaled everyone of her intent, and crept quietly to the door. Her jaw was set and the kind eternal light had left her pale blue eyes; I saw the wild look of the vengeful she-wolf bent on protecting her cubs.
   Grandma suddenly flung the door open and I saw her quickly blast away with both rounds from the over-and under.
   When the smoke cleared, we all stood there in silence... looking down at the twisted and bloody body of Harold Schmidt, the mailman, his bag of letters scattered across the walkway and a C.O.D. parcel lying inches from his twitching fingers.
   "Who would've thought?" Grandma's voice said with a quiver. "Harold Schmidt!... a fucking alien!"