Stolenowners

When the ship swooned from nowhere and plopped down onto my piece of this orb, five obese babies were flung into my cornrows in Iowa. Not my hair but my actual cornrows, we used to have real agriculture on this planet. Anyway, each was equipped with an amplified pacifier, each baby's tune and rhythm was his own. I named the babies quickly, as if I was being spoken to, a message relayed through organic electricity produced by the brain. I surmised that the elders of the planet who had sent these babies were telepathically sending me their names, some sexy invasive email. Vytas, Gregory, Leo, Bryden and Q or Elohquent. Thank you I said to the air. I have five obese baby boys, what I always wanted; they would grow and help me on the farm. Well growth happened under an unearthly definition. The process was alien. One night in a five unit crib I fashioned out of an old lighting struck tree, I was attempting to close my eyes as a father for the first time when I heard the creaking and then the bat shattering explosion from there room. Well, the crib lasted but three hours. They were now less obese but the size of five year olds. They grew faster than cats and dogs thinking about there first litter. After a week they were in there twenties, asking me always for a smoke, always if I knew any hot chicks or good clubs to jam in and get paid in beer. Within a week, I sent them off to where they belonged, Toronto Canada, to make a record and seek out these gigs as they called them. I have not seen my sons in years, but I have heard them. They communicate their message through music, their message is love, I miss you StolenOwners... Your earth dad, SylvesterJOIN STOLENOWNERS ON FACEBOOKwww.facebook.com/groups.php?id=509294014&gv=12/g roup.php?gid=5246820310