Aliens for Breakfast by Stephanie Spinner

1 .
    “Mom, I hate these sneakers.” Richard Bickerstaff was getting dressed for school.
    “You picked them out yourself last week, sweetie,” his mother called from the kitchen.
    “Last week they were okay. Today I hate them.” Richard frowned at his feet. Why had he ever chosen these dumb black high-tops? He should have gotten red-leather running shoes like Dorfs. They were cool. But then, Dorf was cool. He had just moved here. He’d only been in Richard’s class for two days, but already the other kids were imitating him.They were copying his big smile, which showed off his perfect white teeth. And they were copying the way he dressed. On the first day he came to school, Dorf wore a red bowling shirt. It had his name, Dorf, spelled out on the pocket. The next day Richard’s best friend, Henry, wore a bowling shirt. It had “Sylvia” stitched on the pocket. Everyone thought it was pretty great anyway.
    Richard poked around in his closet, which was full of old Space Lords of Gygrax comics. He didn’t have a bowling shirt and he knew it. But he looked anyway.
    “Richard, finish dressing or you won’t have time for breakfast,” called his mother. “Hurry up. I have some new cereal for you to try.”
    Richard found a clean shirt and put it on. “I hate cereal,” he said as he came into the kitchen. He scowled at his cereal bowl. It was full of strange little brightly colored shapes. “And this stuff is looking at me!” he added. All the strange little shapes had tiny silver eyes.
    “It’s called Alien Crisp,” said his mother. She poured some milk into Richard’s bowl. “Ithought you’d like it, since you’re such a sci-fi fan.”
    The little shapes seemed to grow as the milk touched them. Then everything in the bowl heaved and sighed.
    Richard put down his spoon. “Mom, where did you find this stuff? It’s alive!”
    “Richard, your imagination is getting out of hand,” said his mother. “It’s a free sample. I found it in the mailbox.”
    “But it’s moving!”
    “The milk is making it move.”
    “The milk is standing still. The cereal is moving.”
    “Well, wait until it stops moving. Then eat it,” said Mrs. Bickerstaff. “I have to get ready for work.” Mrs. Bickerstaff was a lawyer. She almost never minded arguing. Except when she was in a hurry. Like now.
    “I don’t think it’s cereal,” muttered Richard as she hurried out of the kitchen. He picked up the cereal box. “Alien Crisp” it said on the front. “Crunchy, Munchy Aliens in a Box! Packed on the Planet Ganoob and Rushed Straight to You!”
    Richard eyed his bowl. Everything in it had stopped moving. Then the milk gave a tiny splash. A round pink thing the color of chewed bubblegum started to climb up the side of the bowl. Amazed, Richard touched it with his spoon.
    “Stop that!” The words came directly into Richard’s head. He put his spoon down very quickly. Then he took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt sleeve. But when he put them back on, the thing was still there.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” asked the voice.
    “Uh, eating breakfast,” answered Richard. Was a piece of cereal really talking to him?
    It was. “I could use some breakfast myself,” it said. It crawled out of the bowl and dropped onto the table. “The trip really took it out of me.”
    Richard finally found his voice. “Who are you?” he asked.
    “Aric. Commander of the Interspace Brigade. Our goal: to wipe out cosmic troublemakers. Our record: ninety-eight percent success.”

    “You’re an alien?” squeaked Richard. All those books he’d read about kids meeting aliens. And now it looked like it was happening to him. Him! Richard Bickerstaff!
    “I am a Ganoobian,” said Aric. “
You
are the alien.”
    I’ve got to be dreaming, thought Richard. He sometimes had very exciting dreams about space travel and large but friendly creatures from other planets who made him their leader.
    “Well, come on! Do not just