Fear of invasion was the result when communication ended with the first alien civilization encountered by humanity. Labeled Intelligent Extraterrestrial Lifeform 00001 by the authorities in an excess of optimism and wunners by regular people in need of a shorter name and aware of the impossibility of pronouncing alien words, that species seemed open to peaceful relations. A few exchanges of foods and goods took place.
But then, silence. Military preparations were made even as expeditions went out and found cities empty but not silent, for power hummed and automated factories operated. For all the world it looked as if an entire interstellar civilization had stepped out for a bite to eat.
And such was indeed the case. An expedition at last found a wunner, perhaps the last of his species. This was what he told them.
"These peppers you guys grow are too spicy. We can't handle it."
The expeditionary captain scratched his head. "Then . . . don't eat them? I prefer milder flavors myself."
"Nope. Too delicious." The wunner bit into a New Iberia Space Reaper, the third-hottest pepper in the galaxy, and died instantly with a look the xenobiologists confirmed to be pure culinary pleasure on its face.
"That story's stupid. You're just trying to cover up humanity's conquering impulses." The middle schooler crossed his arms, his umbrage caused more by having to go to a dumb museum than by the fate of the wunners.
"What's going on across the street, if that's true?" A passing historian pointed. A wunner shot out a diner with the spiciest meal on the menu in its hands and a bunch of customers on its tail who scrambled to save it from itself. That snotty kid never lived that one down.
Finis
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