Tove Jansson's 'The Thing'.

If you've not read the Moomins or seen The Thing, this probably won't mean much to you.

The snow of winter lay heaped around Moomintrolls’ ankles as he sat on a tree stump watching the Hemulen digging. He had asked what he was digging for, but the Hemulen did not like to be disturbed when working and had replied only with a few mutters and grunts. So Moomintroll sat and watched. By now, the Hemulen was so deep that only the bobble on the top of his hat was visible, bobbing up and down industriously as its owner dug and shovelled. As Moomintroll watched and thought, Snufkin came wandering through the trees and sat down beside him.
“The Hemulen is digging”, said Moomintroll.
Snufkin nodded and puffed on his pipe.
“I wonder what for”, added the Moomin.
Snufkin took his pipe out of his mouth and contemplated for a few moments. “Crashed alien starship, he told me”, was the reply. “He says he’s going to dig it up, study it for science, and become famous when he has.” Snufkin’s tone of voice said everything that needed to be said about what he felt about being famous.
From below them, in the Hemulens’ pit, a noise rang out, as if of a shovel striking extraterrestrial alloy. “Sounds like he’s found it, then”, added Snufkin. Moomintroll nodded and looked out over the snowy pine forests of the valley. “If only I had found an alien spaceship”, he mused to himself. He imagined himself finding a lost starship. In his mind he saw the reporters gathered round him asking questions as he modestly declined all money and fame and gave his discovery to the world. The Snork Maiden, her snout blushing pink, coyly asked him for a kiss as the tickertape parade took them through New York city, a small reward for his incredible find.
Moomintrolls’ reverie was broken as from the pit there came a succession of soul-curdling shrieks followed by a gout of blood. The spout arched out of the hole and stained the snow for yards around. Snufkin and Moomintroll looked at one another before slowly standing and walking over to look down the pit where they saw the top of a flying saucer with a hatchway in its top opened, and a morass of bubbling semi-liquid flesh in the portal where the Hemulen had presumably been standing only moments before. As they watched, the boiling mass seethed and began to form itself into a recognisable duplicate of the erstwhile explorer.
Snufkin tapped his pipe out. He gave a sniff. “No good ever comes of this sort of thing. A shapechanging doppelganger, if I’m any judge.” He looked about. “It could mean trouble.”
Moomontroll silently agreed. He resolved to tell Moominmamma and Moominpappa at this over dinner, as they both had a quiet wisdom which was sure to know what to do. In the pit, the Hemulen’s screams were mercifully short.

***

“An alien spaceship?”, cried Little My, squirming on her chair in front of the bowl of pickled herring which was their dinner. “And you didn’t tell me? You ****, Moomintroll”.
Moominmamma glanced sharply at Little My. “We’ll have less talk like that”, she said. “I sometimes wonder if we shouldn’t be more careful with what we allow you to read”. She looked at the small pile of books which My had set aside. “’The case of the groaning bones’”, she read. “’The curse of screaming cave’. ‘Trainspotting’.’ American Psycho’. I’m sure some of these aren’t suitable reading for a child.”
“But a ******* ************* alien starship!” said My.
“And you say the Hemulen was, what, devoured?” asked Moominpappa thoughtfully, sensibly ignoring Little My’s cries.
Moomintroll nodded. “I was just getting to that”, he said. “When the Hemulen opened the starship he released a monster of some sort, which devoured him and then started to take his shape.”
“So there’s an exact duplicate of the Hemulen wandering about which is actually a shapeshifting alien duplicate?”
Moomintroll nodded.
“Hot ******* damn”, muttered My. “That’s the best excuse I’m ever going to get.” She turned to Moominmamma. “Please may I be excused?”
“What are you going to do?”, asked Mamma
My pointed at the flamethrower which nestled amongst her coat and books. “I’m going to get out there and cook that Hemulen **********”, she said.
“If I let you, will you promise to stop swearing?”
My nodded.
“Then very well, but be sure to wear your mittens.”
Moomintroll held up a hand. “But isn’t it dangerous?”, he asked My. “The monster might kill and duplicate you too? After a while” – his eyes widened in realisation –“ it might do that to all of us!”
“Moomintroll”, said My. “You might be a ******* *****, but I’m going to show that ***** *** alien ************ who's boss. You coming?”
Moomintroll glanced at the Snork maiden, who shook her head in warning. “No”, he said.
“****” said My, bluckling on the flamethrower, kicking up the flame, and heading into the night.
“Do you think that letting her out alone is a good idea?”, asked Moominmamma of Moominpappa.
“Possibly not.”, said Pappa. “Perhaps someone ought to do something.” He spooned some more herring onto his plate. “I am going to my study to think.”
Moomintroll felt pleased within himself. He had been sure that his father would know what to do. He would have an answer in no time at all.

***

The next morning Moominpappa sat at the desk in his study filling his pen with ink. “A shape changing alien”, he murmured to himself. This would make the most thrilling chapter in his memoirs yet. Little My had reappeared during breakfast, dragging her flamethrower behind her and explaining that she had “Burned that fat Hemulen ********** up good, the ****** ****”, and so everyone had felt safe to go about their day. Sniff had promptly decided the spaceship might be full of gold and jewels which would make him rich and had run off to investigate without waiting for anyone, and Snufkin had filled his pipe and wandered off towards the river with his fishing rod to break the ice. Moomintroll had looked confused and asked little My when she had changed the dress she had been wearing the previous day as she had spent all night outside, and Little My had called him a nosy fat sack of **** and she’d changed because her ******* coat had smelled of ******* kerosene after all the burning.
Moominpappa had retired to do his writing and sat, thoughtfully sucking on the end of his pen as he listened to the sounds of the house going about its day. Moomintroll and the Snork Maiden had vanished off into the woods to look for early flowers, and the front and kitchen doors had banged several times as Moominmamma came and went to look after her garden.
It was possible, mused Moominpappa, that Little My had been assimilated by the alien consciousness, or even that more parts of it were still lurking in the valley ready to absorb one of his friends or family as they happened by. He tapped his nib. He, and everyone he knew, was in terrible, mortal danger. That would make an excellent observation to open his chapter. He began to write.

***

In the meanwhile, Moomintroll had found the Hemulen’s corpse. The Snork Maiden had wandered off picking bunches of snowdrops and the Moomin, following the scent of charred flesh, soon found the seared remains of his friend the intellectual archaeologist. “It’s queer”, the little animal thought to himself. “The way his tortured visage his split in two, as if one side of his face has tried to escape the flames”. He found himself musing on what it would be like to be an alien, zooming between planets like a comet. Distantly there came a muffled noise like a door slamming and a scream, and he idly wondered what the strange sound was.
The Snork Maiden came walking towards him through the trees. “I found your father’s top hat”, she said. She showed Moomintroll the hat, which was badly damaged and covered in blood. “Do you suppose he has been killed by the alien?”
Moomintroll thought about this possibility. “I suppose he could have been. Perhaps somebody ought to come up with a way to tell the difference between people and aliens.”
The Snork Maiden nodded. “That would be very useful”, she conceded.
The two put their paws in one anothers’ and turned back to walk towards the house. Meeting a dejected looking Sniff as they went. He had had no luck searching for gold or jewels in the spaceship, he told them, and had badly torn his scarf on a piece of jutting metal as he was climbing out and had to throw it away.
Snufkin was already back at the Moomin house by the time they returned. He had broken the ice on the river and caught two fish and was hoping Moominmamma would cook them for dinner. However, Moominmamma insisted that she would only serve pickles for dinner until the alien had been seen off. “Those fish might be infested with alienness”, she explained to Snufkin. Moominpappa came in just as she said this. “Not just the fish”, he observed. “Snufkin might well be an alien. Waiting to murder us in our beds”. He glared at Snufkin who pulled his hat down over his eyes.
“I said it would lead to trouble”, said Snufkin.
“I think”, said Moominpappa decisively, “the best thing to do is to lock Snufkin in the shed.”
Snufkin put his head in his hands. “I just knew it”, he said.
Moominpappa nodded to himself. “That’s just the sort of thing an alien would say. Come along, Snufkin”.
He led Snufkin outside, past the blazing pile of clothing which someone had left amongst the rose bushes, put him in the shed and firmly closed the door. He came back to the house, clapping his hands together in satisfaction at a job well done. “I think that settles that. Now the Hemulen is a heap of broiled ash and Snufkin is in the shed we can all sleep safe in our beds.”
“Dinner first!”, said Moominmamma opening a jar of pickles and serving them.

***

With morning came the discovery of the shed door swinging open in the breeze and snow drifted into the little building. Moominpappa gazed at it with an air of unease. "Snufkin has escaped", he announced over breakfast. "We must all be doubly on our guard." Under the table, Moomintroll and the Snork Maiden held hands fearfully.
"Well", said Moominmamma. "We must form a search party."
"Hot ******* damn", said Little My. "Let's get out there and cook that ******* ******* ******."
"I've confiscated your flamethrower."
"No problem, Moomin-M. I've got some dragonsbreath shells for my SPAS-12."
"I'm going to start returning those catalogues you get marked to sender as well."
Little My added something under her breath as the five of them put on their coats to go to look for Snufkin. Sniff refused to come and had retired to bed to sulk that he had not found any gold in the Spaceship.
"The tracks lead to the river", said Moomintroll. "Perhaps he has gone there?"

Snufkin was indeed sitting by the river, smoking his pipe and fishing through a hole in the ice. Moominpappa took charge. "Now then, alien", he said. "How did you get out of the shed?"
"You didn't lock the door."
"Another sneaky, roundabout alien type of answer", grunted Moominpappa. "Why you can't just play straight I'll never know."
Snufkin twitched his rod.
"Now", said Moominpappa after some thought. "Will you come back to the shed and stay there so you can't absorb us all in some horrific extraterrestrial merging?"
Snufkin didn't reply.
Moominpappa fumed for some time before turning and returning to his study to think about what to do. Moomintroll, Moominmamma and the Snork maiden followed. From behind them there were several loud bangs and a scream, swiftly stilled.

***

Dinner that evening was subdued. There had been no sign of Snufkin and he had not returned to the shed as Moominpapa had instructed him. Moominpappa was very cross about this and brooded over his plate of pickles. "Probably out there doing something alien-y", he muttered to himself.
"What I would like to know", said Moominmamma, "is what this alien wants? Why did it take over the Hemulen and heaven knows who else?"
This put Moominpappa back on confident ground. "That's simple. Moomins are the warmest place to hide." He waved a paw towards the window. "The winter snow is upon us. Moominvalley is cut off from the world. So we are its home." A shudder went through Moomintroll at the thought of being trapped in the valley all winter. "You see", said Moominpappa portentiously. "What this alien truly wants...it to be us.
There was a long silence as everyone digested this.
"Actually", said the Snork Maiden, "I don't."
Everyone turned to her as the flesh on her head peeled aside like a banana skin.
"You people suck", she said. "Why the heck would I want to be you? You're the most useless species I've ever encountered, and I've met Americans. You're all bloody hopeless. Sitting round waiting for something to happen. I can't metabolise alcohol, and that's a damn shame after spending forty eight hours with you lot, because you'd drive an alien superfiend to drink and no mistake. I'd rather spend another hundred thousand years frozen in the permafrost waiting for a decent species to come along than hang out with you bunch of losers for another minute. In fact..." The bizarrely malformed lump of protoplasm which had been masquerading as the Snork Maiden stood up, picked up a shovel, and walked out into the snow pausing only to extrude another hand and give Moonminpappa the bird as she left.

Moominmamma looked at the plate of pickles and tutted. They would go to waste now. Moomintroll felt sad. All his dreams of heroically fighting off hundreds of shapechanging aliens would come to nothing. He slipped one of his paws into the other and thought about it.
After a few moments he decided it felt just as good as having a girlfriend.

As the sound of digging from outside echoed into the room, Moominpappa decided to leave this chapter out of his memoirs.