It matters

She couldn't decide the red dress or blue, so she turns to her husband to give her a clue. He sighed and huffed and said to her mad, it really does not matter, style's just fad. But little did he know, there in their house, that something was watching him and his spouse. Miles from the ground, orbiting low, spun a saucer from Mars, two occupants stowed. Aliens, as it were, watching the couple, abreast every word with ears quintuple. And who would have guessed that they cared for distinction, for one said to the other, 'Blue, or extinction.'


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