New Age (Five minutes freewrite)

The room fell silent. Everyone was staring at the present uncle Rich had just laid on the table, in front of the proud parents. Typical Rich to be so thoughtless. What will the guests of honor say?
Marge felt her cheeks flush a deep crimson and squeezed her husband’s hand. ‘Say something, anything’.
‘Where on earth did you find this old thing?’, was all that Brian could say as he hurriedly grabbed the brown ball from the table and flung it under the sofa. The meaning of all this was lost on Rich. Or maybe it wasn’t, as he started to explain in a loud voice how he and Brian used to play ball every day when they were kids.
‘We would’ve stayed out all night if it weren’t for Mom who opened the window and started yelling at us to come in or else’.
Nobody laughed and poor Brian only managed a pained smile that was more of a silent apology directed at the two distinguished guests, Mo and Tai, who, it must be said, tried to hide their deep distaste in front of this unexpected indiscretion.
Marge had regained her composure and her eyes were now shooting daggers at her husband’s brother. She knew they shouldn’t have invited him to see the baby, that move had definitely been not smart at all, considering the fact that their careers depended on Mo and Tai having a good time at a typical human celebration. Would Rich care about that? Of course, not. That’s why he lived in the woods by himself, because he couldn’t stand the Borelians, the Jellies as his ilk called them. As if it was their fault they were different. How inconsiderate to remind them they did not have legs and could not kick a ball.
Like many of their peers, Marge and Brian went to great length to minimize the differences that separated them from their new alien buddies and had dropped many of the activities in which the Borelians could not partake, like football - such a stupid thing, if you think of it, right? Or dancing - what’s so special about moving your limbs like a monkey when you could sit on the couch and enjoy the music. Borelian music, obviously. ‘More like two cats screeching with their tails caught in the door’, as Rich had once been heard describing the music with which their new friends had enriched the lives of human beings.

In less than ten years since The Arrival, human civilization had transformed itself completely. Gone was the obsession with fitness and not a gym remained open - trying to stay fit would be an insult to a race so unconcerned with being in shape.
‘Blob is a shape, too’, uncle Rich would chuckle, back in the early days, when he had not decided to join the red-necks in the woods. The Human Defense League, they called themselves.
All sports had been abolished except for bowling, as for some reason the Borelians thought it was entertaining. And their were quite good at it, as their upper limbs were very strong to compensate the lack of lower ones.
The conversation had slowly resumed as the hosts took care of filling the glasses and bringing in bowls of delicious pureed greens. Meat was still allowed, God forbid that the Borelians should banish anything, but all the cool people had gone full vegan by now.
Rich sat dejectedly in a corner, watching his family stuffing themselves with green mush and enjoying it seemingly. As far as they were concerned, Mo and Tai, barely fitting together on the big couch, made pretend nothing happened. Such a graceful race!
At long last, it was time for everyone to meet little Charlie, ican gon whose honor the party was being held. When the boy was brought into the room the new parents were showered with congratulations. The aliens were less than impressed, for their young could take care of themselves almost since birth.
‘Beautiful’, Mo said, as the proud mother held the baby in front of him. ‘I’ll put in a word so he gets a place at our boarding school. When he turns two he can move there and be educated with our young ones. And, you, my friends can go on with your lives as if nothing happened.’
Marge went pale and started to shake, but to her credit, she managed to nod to their gracious guests.
‘Thank you. We’d be honored.’

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge, today's prompt was: not smart! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

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