Bohemia Village Voice

This entry came ninth in our ultra-short story
competition last year.
The judges’ comments included ‘very true story, good one’, ‘mad’, ‘food for thought’, ‘makes you think’, ‘original and amusing, with subtlety’.

My urge to know why was becoming unbearable. I decided to take the risk of offending and asked the well-dressed gentleman with the hare lip and furrowed brow as he nursed his stout.
"Excuse me. I dont suppose you could tell me why the people in Hastings look, well…just that little bit weirder than other people?"
"Well sonny," he began, "Youve asked the right person. Dont get me wrong, Im not one of them, but I have been watching them for years."
"Oh I wasnt suggesting that you are…er…what do you mean them?"
"Twitchers of course. Human spotters. Aliens my dear boy."
"Aliens?"
"Oh yes, this is the best site for them outside the US. They come from all over the Galaxy; there are Kaglenians, Dritakanoids, Heblozobes … all sorts. Have you noticed that Hastings is full of people whos skin just doesnt fit properly? … Alien Twitch-ers, the lot of them."
"A small part of me is thinking that you cant be serious … but I have to say, it all makes sense now … the woman at the laundrette, the butch.."
"The BUTCHER! Ha! Thats him my boy, hes the one who makes the suits for them all."
From that moment, the urge started to subside as the pieces fell into place. Years later, I have made it my lifes work to watch the watchers. The top of the voyeur chain. So, next time you are in town, take a look at the man with the wonky shoulder and club foot, hes probably taking one at you.