Joseph jackhammered the pavement with a pulsating ratatattat. His concentration was purely on the destruction of the material below. He never noticed the strange rock a short distance from him. He was no archaeologist and a rock is a rock. I am not saying he is as dumb as a rock but the phrase fitted him to a tee.
Ratatattat, and again, the deafening noise permeated the surrounding area. Joseph wore his ear plugs and the noise abates around his ample sized head. Sweat poured out of him as the efforts of pounding burned the calories and the temperature was in the nineties. His tee shirt with the beer logo was soaked. His belly slung over his waist band and jiggled with the movement. He was a sight to behold.
On the rock the inhabitants were creatures microscopic in size. A community of travelers who did not know that there world had landed on our primitive world. The only thing they noticed was the earthquake shakes caused by what? They only felt the vibrations their eyesight could not see that in the distance was the culprit Joseph and his jackhammer.
They the inhabitant of the rock appointed “Luthor the Swifter” to fly into the danger zone to investigate the cause of the disruption. He bravely entered his capsule and with great difficult maneuvered his craft towards the sound.
Joseph noticed something buzzing around his head. Assuming it was an insect and not realizing it was Luthor he swatted the object and therefore imbedded into his forehead. Quickly the alien substance of Luthor and the craft he had piloted entered the blood stream of Joseph.
He fell dead and the jackhammer stopped. Joseph breathed out one more time. A gasp containing the particles of alien spores that had been contained in Luther’s body. Now mushed they were released into our atmosphere and spread rapidly. The entire area was now a hot bed of deadly poison.
The creatures on the rock only knew that the pulsating noise stopped. Luthor did not return and was hailed a hero. They rejoiced.
Inside the body of Joseph the alien material now festered in a body decomposing. A new strain of material was created and when the body released its air out into the surrounding area it headed for the rock. A cloud of material and a smell unnatural surrounded the rock and all perished.
Moral: One hand does not wash itself. It takes two. Remember the mirror of life is death.