We found it under the apple tree in Jake Wilson's yard. It squirmed, crawled, excreted slimy orange fluid. One of its three eyes blinked at us, the iris blood red. A second eye opened, this one gold. A narrow beam of light shot out of the pupil.
"Ow," my brother, Michael, said. He shook a scorched forefinger.
I took a step back as it opened its final eye. Nothing happened.
"Wow, it's so green," Michael said. He sucked on his finger.
"I think we should tell Mr. Wilson about this..." I trailed.
"No," came a voice. I looked around, pivoting. Nothing.
Michael's face turned snow white. "I...I think that thing talked."
"But it doesn't even have a mouth."
"Why yes, I do, and quite a large one," said the voice. "All the better to eat you with."