**************
I have always been particularly cunning and intelligent upon first awakening.
So I immediately noticed the half million candle power light shining into
my eyes. I was on a rock hard surgical table, and there was a potted plant
beside me. I glanced about and thought of escape. I remembered the terrible
choking and losing consciousness and wondered if old Tyrone had made good his
escape from these dreadful aliens.
"Ah, you are awake.", I heard.
I glanced about and could detect no person or being. "What do you want of me?",
I yelled. "This is more what I expected! To be tortured and surgically riddled
and all. But you will get nothing from me! I will never talk!"
"Oh well. More the pity then.", I heard. "I have been locked away here in this
cold terrible place for thirty five thousand years and when I get my first
patient, he doesn't want to talk." Despair seemed to hang in the air between me
and the talking plant at my bedside.
"You are a Plant!", I exclaimed.
"Technically not," the thing drolled. "but I admit to several small similarities
to that kingdom and whatnot."
I stared hard at the thing. "You are a Triffid! I would recognize you anywhere."
And the thing was. I thought of getting my hands on a salt water hose and making
my escape. Glancing about, there didn't seem to be any salt water fire hoses.
"I removed all of the salt water fire hoses.", it said.
"oh." I said.
A long silence ensued. We examined each other carefully. Or at least I examined
it. I could tell nothing of what the potted plant was doing. It was much like
being in conference with a ... potted plant. A tall, talking potted plant. Which
I decided was a bit on the strange side of reality. I examined my head as I stared
at the plant, searching for signs of trauma that might explain my obviously
malfunctioning mind.
"There is nothing wrong with you now.", it said. Almost as if it was reading my
thoughts. "Now that I have brought you back from the dead, that is."
"So... ", I stammered. "I died then?"
"Yes. Very dead." said the plant.
"How...?", I began.
"Quite simple. I just used the Acme All Purpose Monkey and Primate restoration
tool."
"Oh." I said.
"I'm Sulk." said the plant.
"Not correct usage.", I stated. I hate people who can't use proper language.
"No, really. That is my name. Sulk. And I am the ships doctor." said the Triffid.
"You are a doctor? Hmm.... " I said skeptically.
"You are my first patient." he said.
"Ok. Am I going to be allright?" I asked.
"Depends." he said.
"Give it to me straight Doc. Am I going to be Ok?", I didn't like his tone. Kind
of an off green tending to yellow. Not good tone at all for a plant.
"Oh. I see. We are not communicating. Yes, yes...you are fine. You were just dead.
Nothing serious. I mean that whether you will be 'allright' depends on your
ability to make heads and tails from this whole silly mess." he said.
"I think I am starting to understand." I said.
"Excellent! It took me years and years to just see the question, and already you
are understanding the solution. Maybe old Crap for Brains knew what she was doing
after all!" he stated excitedly.
"What?", I asked. "What was that? No. I meant I am beginning to understand. You are
a plant but don't want to admit it out of shame. Right?"
The Good Doctor kind of wilted and I thought I noticed a very slight shaking
of it's upper asparigus looking body.
All he said was, "It's going to be a very, very -- long trip."
*************
"Say Doc..." I hesitated. "You don't happen to know how I might escape from this
ship, do you?" What the heck. My efforts at being clever had come to naught. Might
as well ask. Right?
"Oh yes. There are several methods. Several of which are quite dangerous." he said.
"Good." I said. "What I need is an escape pod, enough food for me and Tyrone to
last until we reach Earth, a good map and enough gas. Let's see. That about does
it. Can you arrange for that?" I held my breath. Was it going to be this easy?
"Fine." he said. "Grab that hand truck and haul me out to Deck 1344D. I just happen
to know the supply seargent that runs the market in escape pods. He should fix you
right up."
I found an old grey hand truck in the corner and struggled a bit getting the good
doctor loaded onto the lift plate.
"Careful! Careful!" he shouted as I spilled dirt about trying to tip him onto the
truck. "That is my life blood you are spilling!" he moaned.
"Sorry about the dirt, doc." I said. "You are rather unwieldy you know."
"I am not!" He shouted. "I have a very adaptable nature and will listen to any
proposition. That is my strongest suit you know. Thirty-five thousand years standing
alone in the dark can make one very reflective."
"Ok. I was referring to your bulk, not your attitude." I apologized.
"I see." he said.
"Speaking of that... how do you see? I don't see anything remotely resembling eyes
on you. What mechanism do you use for vision?" I asked.
"I usually read the better science and tech mags on-line." he said. "That allows
me a full range of vision. I see trends and patterns rather well, you know."
"Hummm... You know that communication thing? We don't seem to be communicating doc."
"Oh. I see.", he said.
"Yes, but how?" I asked.
This entire scene was repeated no less than seven times by the time we made it to
deck 1344D. By which time I was no longer interested in his eyes and he thought me
a total fool for not understanding vision and trending to the future.
We finally made it and Doc Sulk introduced me to Supply Seargent Drub Frubbery. He
was a tiny thing. Purple kind of and almost round. With six ... "thingys". I won't
be so bold as to try and label them as heads, arm, legs or hands. They were pretty
much independent of any one function, but seemed to serve all functions. Each thingy
had an eye and an ear. This was very disconcerting to me. I had always been taught
to 'Look a man in the eye' and not to 'gauk at anothers misfortune'. Drub Frubbery
was a challenge.
"Hi Doc!" he said. "Long time no see."
"Quite." Doc responded. "Thirty five thousand years, if memory doesn't betray me."
"Been that long? Hell seems like only yesterday!" the seargent said. "What can I
do for you?"
And we then began the negotiations for the supplies and escape pod. I thought things
were going extremely well. I had so far extracted everything I could think of but was
dreading the price of it all. And I had no money. I had forgotten this minor detail.
But I was quite determined.
"Ok. Gentlmen. I think that will fit our needs." I didn't know how to broach the
subject of payment, so I just out and asked. "Now, what do you need from me to complete
the deal?" I held my breath.
Potted plant and cigar smoking seargent just stood there. Did I mention that Drub
Frubbery smoked a cigar? Well he did. As he rolled from place to place, the cigar
was passed from thingy to thingy, keeping it always at the top. Kind of like a
coal burning steam engine. Did I mention that in addition to an eye and an ear that
each thingy also had a mouth? Sorry about that. Each thingy also had a mouth. Which
was quite handy because of the cigars. But I digress...
"What do you mean?" asked the good doctor.
"I mean, I will have to sell a kidney or something to pay for this stuff." I said. "I
am, to not sharpen the point too much... broke. Dead broke." I expected the deal to
fail.
"Not proper usage." said the Doc. "I hate people who can't use language properly.
But anyway. You're not dead nor are you 'broke'. I fixed you." said the doctor.
"I have no money." I said, incredulously.
"Do you need 'money'? Maybe I have some in the back room." said Drub Frubbery. "I
really don't know much about it. What does it look like? What does it do? I'll
see if I can find some for you. How much do you want? Assuming I can locate any
of it?
**************
"Ok. You've had your fun with me. Now lets get down to brass tacks", I said.
"Haven't heard of those either.", said Drub. "What do they look like? Might
as well search for those while I'm looking for 'money'"
"No. Seriously. What do you want for this stuff?" I was becoming desperate,
finally seeing the hard bargainers for what they were. They were playing with
me and I was beginning to resent it.
"I see. Hmmm...." said the Doctor. "Drub. I think we are encountering some
sort of ritualistic behaviour here. Some native custom of Potlatch or social
custom too strange to contemplate."
"Oh, I get it Doc." said the purple thingied thing. "So he feels a need to
feel superior to us and demand social debt or conscience or something like that? Geez,
I don't know Doc. That seems pretty far fetched."
"Do you have any better ideas?" the doctor asked dryly.
"Not really. So what should we do?" Drub asked.
By this time I was feeling rather woozy and not at all well. These guys
were brutal. It became clear that they were not only master traders but
cruel in the extreme. They were mercilessly playing me out like a mile long
fishing line. I began to sweat and my mind went into overdrive.
"You win.", I said. "Everything I have. When I get home I will sell it all and
give it all to you. But we need this stuff. I will gladly give it all to you,
but you'll get nothing unless Tyrone and I make it back to Earth." I was defeated
and they knew it.
The doctor tried to pace back and forth, caught himself before tipping over and
said, "Again the communcation thing. I don't feel good about this, but here goes."
I swear he took a big breath. Don't ask me to explain how a potted plant does
this, but to this day I swear he did. Then he continued.
"Ok. It's a deal." and Drub and he giggled evily to each other. Cruel, hard traders
at their evil worst. They tore me apart and there was nothing I could do. I vowed
to buy a used car upon return to earth. It wasn't much, but I needed that thought
of revenge to sustain me through this trial. I might even buy two used cars. I
would show them that I could wheel and deal. I'd show them my ruthless bargaining
skills. I began to plot my revenge.
But I had the escape pod, fifty thousand pounds of "super-fresh" anti-matter
granuals, three hundred pounds of pancake batter and enough coffee to last for
a month. We were ready to leave. Except that I must rescue old Tyrone. I didn't
know which cell he was in, nor indeed, which prison. I decided to press my luck.
"I don't suppose you can help me locate old Tyrone?", I asked the doctor.
"Certainly. But try not to spill any more of my nutrients. Load me up onto that
truck. I believe we will find your friend on the shooting range."
"Shooting range." I said numbly. It was worse than I thought. Firing squad. Poor
old Tyrone.
"Yes. It is all the rage. Tyrone introduced the butler to the sport, and it just
sort of took off from there. Everyone who is anyone is doing it." Said the Doc.
I was a bit confused, but atrributed it to being recently dead and revived.
"You seem quite confused.", said the doctor.
"No. Not at all", I lied. "I find it quite natural that the butler would find
weaponry an interesting sport. He always does it, you know." I said weakly.
"Does what?" asked the doc.
"It. You know. 'The Butler' did it. That sort of thing." I wheeled him faster,
hoping to distract him.
He looked at me real strange like. I know. No eyes. But he did. He was becoming
an inigma. Deep breaths... no mouth... strange looks... no eyes. And perhaps worse
was the feeling that he really did have a vision of the future. Or that I was
in far worse mental shape than I thought.
************
When we reached the firing range, Tyrone rushed to me, gleefully clubbing me
about the head and shoulders. Tyrone has a lot of these small, very endearing
traits that are all very painful and joyful at the same time.
"Mikey! It's real good to see you Bud!" he shouted. "You were dead for so long,
I just plum stopped thinking about ya. And now you're alive. I'll be damned. You
look pretty good for a dead guy, ya know?"
Tyrone knows how to turn a phrase and is really more kind than people credit him.
Then it struck me. Out of thin air. A clay pidgeon. But I was ok after a minute or
two.
"Damn. That hurt. What was that?", I asked.
"A clay pidgeon. Sorry bout that. That there is one of the finest targets yer
ever gunna have the privee ledge of ever shootin'!", said Tyrone. "Heck!
I designed em. Sort of."
"What do you mean?", I asked as I watched a sky full of the strangest birds I have
ever seen. They were darting about wildly, bobbing and weaving -- swooping and
soaring. They were every color under the rainbow, but I got the feeling that this
was attributable more to being a RGB thing than a long evolutionary breeding trait.
"Well after you a goin' and dyin' and all, I got sort of bored. Old Bentley
suggested that I get a hobbie. You being dead and all... so I told him about
shootin' clay pidgeons and we got together with those Tek-No guys. I told em'
we needed some clay birds. They kind of scratched their butts on that one!", Tyrone
grinned. "But after a while they got with them there 'live siance' guys and
made us these damn fine target birds. An' they work good too!" He swung quickly to
his left and let fly with three dead-on shots.
Then it struck me. But not a clay pidgeon. A thought. How long was I dead? I
panicked as Tyrones words bore home.
"How long was I dead?" I asked.
"Oh the usual." said Doc Sulk.
"The usual. How long Doc? Give it to me straight. I am not afraid of the truth.
How long?"
"Well, let's see. I put you into the Monkey and Primate restoration tool on
a friday. I remember changing the water and filters a couple of times. I would
guess it was about four or five months." he said.
"Four or Five Months!" I yelled, "You just were too busy to notice exactly! Is
that it Doc? Just too damned busy to notice how long I was missing from the
world?"
"Yes, pretty much." he said flatly. "I fell asleep a couple of times I'm afraid."
"No wonder you were alone for thirty five thousand years." I said caustically.
"You probably fell asleep while writing kind letters of praise to all of your
hundreds of friends.'
"That was part of it, I admit. Very astute of you. I see you are taking my notions
of vision more seriously.", he said with a hurrumph. I know, I know. But I swear
that he did a hurrumph. A genuine potted plant one, but a fine one none the less.
Then I remebered the escape and pulled Tyrone aside whispering in his ear. I
hoped that the others wouldn't notice my guile and bravado in boldly speaking
to Tyrone as they watched.
"Tyrone." I said.
"Mikey." He said.
"We have to get out of here."
"Ok. Why?" Tyrone can be a handfull at times.
"Because, I have an escape pod and fifty thousand pounds of anit-matter pellets.
They don't keep well. It's a matter of use em' or lose em' ... if you get my
drift." I said.
"Ok. If you say so. When we leavin'?" Tyrone asked.
"Now. Follow me.", and I ducked out to the right while they were trying to fit
Doc Sulk with a twelve gauge shotgun. Tyrone was right behind me when the Doc
took his first shot. Small leaves and chunks of dirt floated about us as we
broke into a run --- back toward Seargent Drub Frubbery and freedom -- in 1344D.
I thought I heard footsteps pounding behind us as we at last reached
the safety of deck 1344D. I had instructed Drub to have the escape
pod ready for us, and good to his word, he held the door open while
he chomped on his cigar.
"Be careful out there.", he kind of smirked. "It's a dangerous world."
"Thanks, Drub!" I said breathlessly. I thought of giving him a hug,
but quickly abandoned the notion realizing that no matter how I were to
attempt a hug, at least one of his faces/noses/eyes/hands would end
up in a vary embarrassing location on my torso. So instead -- I climbed
into the pod and began the power up sequence. I had learned this earlier
during the long and difficult negotiations with the merciless, ferocious,
cruel traders. The power up and indeed all of the controls consisted
of a button that said "press here to start".
Tyrone too was strapping into his Acme Adaptable Escape Pod Chair and
seemed more cheerful than he had a right to feel. "Thanks Sarge!" he said,
"See you on the other side!"
I thought this a strange thing to say. I wondered briefly how he knew
Drub FRubbery, but had no time to work out the details. "Ok. Cut us loose!"
I yelled. Then realized that the pod door was closed, so I used the radio.
"Open the pod bay door, Drub." I said.
"I'm afraid I can't do that." Drub said.
Deja friggin vu! I just knew things were going too well.
"Open the pod bay door. Now Drub." I said again.
This time Tyrone began to laugh and said, "Might as well get er over with Drub.
Our Mikey is kind of single minded and stubborn. The sooner we do this the
sooner we can get to our poker game tonight."
I glanced questioningly at Tyrone. There was more going on here than met
the eye. Good thing Doc wasn't here. I didn't have time to go through that
again.
"Ok. Hang On. Here Goes!" and Drub turned the handle as red lighted sirens
came up to speed and alarms of all sort triggered to the opening of the
giant pod bay doors. "Firing sequence start... Three, two, one. Go with
God my friends." said Drub.
Damned nice of him. Decent sort of chap. I determined to give him one of my
used cars when I got back home to Earth.
We were fired out the pod bay door on a giant bolt of electromagnetic energy
at a truly frightening speed.
And skittered down the airports apron road at over two hundred miles per
hour, knocking over several service carts and finally coming to rest in front
of terminal number four luggage unloading area.
Some days you get the bear. Some days the bear just farts and laughs at you.
This was one of those days. Tyrone was laughing so hard that he couldn't
speak. We had knocked apart the sprinker system and generated a crowd of
curious onlookers. I sat stunned. What had gone so horribly wrong? I thought
of pushing the self-destruct button, but all I could find was the damned "push
here to start" button. A recorded message began to play "Welcome to Las Galaxas!
While you are here, visit the great Halls of Old Stuff casino and brewery. We
serve only the finest aged imported beers. And our staff is known for their
friendly and courteous service", I hit the button again and again, but the
message wouldn't stop.
Thus it was that I was called before The Captain to explain why her
ship was being blacklisted from the posh front row parking stall to
an obscure corner of the airport. It seems that the launching of high
velocity escape pods in the middle of the tourist season was not thought
to be a good policy and that any star ship captain who allowed it to
happen obviously wasn't paying close enough attention to "Details",
unquote. And there was even something mentioned about "reckless and
wanton disregard of sentient life... turning over fifty thousand pounds
of anti-matter pellets to a nut case". I missed much of this part
of the indictment. Tyrone was giggling too loud for me the hear the
magistrate properly.
I expected the worst. But then I always do. So when I was presented to
the most lovely creature in the galaxy and her lilting voice drifted to
me as I sat duct-taped to a chair in my prison cell... I fell in love.
That voice alone could sink a thousand ships. Which is not perhaps a
trait that one would desire of a ships captain. But again I digress.
Her eyes were brighter than the galaxy of stars. Her lithe figure made
my heart race and by breathing came in short halting gulps. Was this
possible? Could I have at last found the soul mate that I had dreamed
of for all those years? If so, would my wife find out? And if so, would
I be alive to enjoy my life with this lovely creature?
"Just what in the hell were you thinking of you imbecile?", she yelled
at me.
I sat entranced. I tried to decide if I should be laconic. Then I decided
it might be best to be epigrammatic or even apothegmatic or terse. But I
settled on being aphoristic. "I love you.", I said weakly. All of my
strength was eaten away from my bones by her beauty. Or maybe the duct tape
was too tight.
"This is your fault Doc." said Captain Wanda Koik,"and I'm holding your
nose to the grindstone on this."
Doc rubbed his nose and remained silent. I know, I know. He is a plant and
has no nose, but I swear he did it. Though not as well as he harumphed.
"And it is evident that this boob is having a reaction to my hormonal
displays of anger." she said. "You know that my species use this excretion
to paralyze and kill simple organisms on our home world. Who would ever
have thought that a higher life form could be identical in brain function
to a Minivervian Slime Worm?"
Nobody said anything, so I decided to lay my sole bare to her. "I love you." I
said again. My heart sang at the power of my love and her adoration of me.
I could tell that she wanted me to swim closer to her. I thought this was
a bit strange. I have never been much on swimming. But I started struggling
against the duct tape, fighting the current, stuggling to reach her wonderful
mouth. The last thing I remember was Tyrone giggling as the Doc injected
me with a long silver needle of stuff.
When I came to, I was face to face with a hideous creature. Octopoidal. Arms
flailing wildly. Anger flowing effusively into my inert mind.
"Ok, Ok Cap." said Doc. "I get it. I'll try to keep better watch in future.
It isn't easy you know. Everytime I need to go anywhere there is that damned
old worn out hand truck. Have you ever tried getting about on one of those?
No? Thought not!" he fumed.
"I'm not interested in excuses mister!" it shouted. "Can you do this job
or do I give it to somebody who doesn't suck dirt for a living?!"
"I can do it." Doc mumbled.
"Good. For if this happens again I will see you in the brig for so long that
you will forget you ever had any friends", yelled the repugnant creature before
me.
"Like a few more years standing alone in the dark are a big deal.", mumbled
Doc Sulk.
"What was that mister?!" yelled the Octopoidal nightmare.
"What? Who me...", dead-panned the potted plant. He shrugged his shoulders
just to emphasize his innocence. Hmmm... I thought. Stranger and stranger.
I stared hard, but could no longer discern shoulders. Just that bulgy thingy
at the beginning of the good part. At least on asparagus... er... well.
"Where is the Captain?" I whispered. For my heart was breaking at her absence.
"Right here, dick head.", said the filthy slimy thing.
"You have eaten the captain!" I yelled. "Regurgitate her now, or answer to me!"
I was suffering the aftereffects of hormonal poisoning. I so longed to be eaten!
But I digress... but not as thoroughly as I had under the spell of those
awful harmones. I hoped my wife would never have to hear the grizzly details.
Have you ever seen an octopus with razor sharp teeth quiver in anger?
Inches from your face? While duct taped to a chair? On a star ship far from
home?
Well! You just believe you me. It ain't all that fun.
I was morose for a day or two. But then, I usually am. Then things generally
picked up for me and I become saturnine... then putative and argumentative,
finally resolving into my usual state of moody sullenness.
Why was I here? What meaning had besot my existence that I was hurled
out amongst the stars, not to mention the airport apron road; at incredible,
speeds? To unknowable distances... forsaken. Alone in the universe -- Well,
except for old Tyrone and a potted Doctor. And Sarge. He was fun to be around.
And my dear sweet captain Koik whose demise I still could not accept.
So desperate was my strait that I had begun to think of Doc Sulk
as a friend. I am not sure he reciprocated. I broached the subject, only
to have him sniffle and turn his head, avoiding my eye. He was mumbling
about the dark and thousands of years and generally feeling bad about his
conveyance.
Why me, oh Lord! I cried to the heavens. Why have you brought this heavy
burden down upon me? I decided to visit the chaplain and try to gain surcease
to my sorrow and general moody sullenness.
"Doc," I said, "I need to visit the chappel. Can you give me directions?" I asked.
"The what?" he responded.
"The Chappel. I need to talk to the chaplain." I said.
"The what?" he responded.
"Come on Doc. You know. The ships spiritual leader. The ministerial counselor."
"The mini -- the what?" he responded.
"Oh, I get it! Hah! Good one Doc. You really got me a good one there!", and indeed
he had. I was beginning to suspect the Good Doctor of having a sense of humor.
"But enough is enough. Just point me in the right direction and I'll be off
to find proper Spiritual guidance."
I reviewed that last sentence for content.
Something about it wasn't quite right, but my mind was racing at this strange
turn of event.
"Mikey. Maybe you better lay down here and let me run some tests. You sound
confused --- and maybe even a bit moody and sullen.", Doc said.
"No, no. Really. Just point me the way to spiritual guidance. I'll be fine.
Really." I said.
"I have not a clue. What are you babbling on about? This ship operates on
strictly physical principles. We turn anti-matter pellets into gasoline or something
and then just warp about from place to place. Or sort of like that I guess.
But there are no spirits involved." he said. "Say! I'll bet you are having an
adverse reaction to the captains hormone attack! This could be quite exciting!
Are you seeing any little green men or any other possibly hallucinogenic images?"
"You mean like hallucinating that I am alone a gazillion miles from home, asking
directions from a potted plant on how to locate a spiritual advisor?" I asked.
I wanted to scream. A joke is a joke, but this was going way too far. I resolved
to find the chaplain on my own. I was not enjoying this silliness one bit.
"Yes, yes! Precisely. Anything like that. I need to make notes. This could get
me off the back shelf and into the mainstream!" he yelled excitedly. "Say, I know
somebody who might help." he stroked his chin in thought. I know, I know. But he
did.
"Let's go see Dr. Kirksey! He is quite good with head cases." said the Doc.
"I'm not a head case Doc. Just a little depressed." I said.
"Yeah, sure. Anything you say. Don't be alarmed now. I'm going to have you
load me onto that worthless hand truck and we are going to go talk with a
very nice man. Is that ok?" he asked solicitously.
"Oh come on Doc! Lay off this assiduous crap." I said. I don't think he heard
me. He was staring at me with a rapt, engrossed expression on his face. I know,
I know. But he did.
I decided to make the most of a bad situation. Maybe talking with a good head
doctor was just what I needed. After all, one can gain spiritual balance only
when the mind is centered. Right? Who said it had to be a priest or a rabi?
I was much cheered as we made our way down two decks and out of the ship.
I made a wry note to myself that this was a much better way to leave the
ship than my previous effort.
We turned left on "Tyrone Blvd"... I did a double take at the street sign.
What a very strange coincidence, I thought. Two blocks down Tyrone then
we hung a right, out and across a big central park.
"Say Doc." I said. "What are all of those tables there in the park?"
There were several thousand tables strung about each topped with a chess board
and a small ticking clock. The constant din of dinging was quite distracting,
almost a tintinabulation. Suddenly my heart constricted in fear. It was as
if I had come up against a terrible unknown wall. And buried within it, a terror
of unknowable proportion was waiting for me. Tic-Toc. Tic-Toc. Or it could
have been gas. It passed quickly. But why should this tic-toc terrify me so?
"Oh that. It seems that old Tyrone intruduced your famous earth game and it has
become all the rage." he said.
"Chess? Tyrone knows how to play chess?" I asked incredulously.
"Yes, yes. Chess. That is it. Everyone who is anyone is doing it now, and
"old Tyrone seems to be quite good it seems. That is him there in the middle."
And sure enough there was old Tyrone, practically running around the middle
circle of a thousand tables, laughing and joking, making approximately one move
every point three seconds. He saw us and waved. "Hi Mikey! When is the next big
escape?"
I really have to wonder about Tyrone some times. He can be very exasperating
to deal with at times. "Very funny Tyrone." I responded. "Winning any games?"
"Doin' ok. About eight out of ten today. Got to run." and he did.
Dr. Kirksey was a handsome creature. Large and powerful, yet he had
a kindness in his eyes. As Doc introduced us, I couldn't help notice
that Dr. Kirksey was over twenty feet tall and his head swiveled from side
to front and back again in an unending fashion. This was very disconcerting
as there was no apparent motion. Just straight,front,straight,front;
to the point where I began hearing the sound from within the wall.
This startled me out of my reveries and my attention returned to Dr.
Kirksey. I stared for perhaps two minutes, thinking of the terrible
tic-toc of the clock inside the wall that stood so tall and wanted all
about me to end! Tic-Toc! Tic-toc said the clock. I bagan to sweat and
then...
"What you gawking at geek?" he demanded.
"Oh. Sorry. I was just admiring your swivel. Very nice." I said.
"Oh, that's allright then." he said. "Now, what can I do for you? Doc
says you are having a hard time with the reality thing. Is that so?"
"Well, not perzactly." I said. I composed myself. "It's just that lately
things seem to be going against me."
"Can you give me an example?" he asked in a kindly fashion.
"Well... let me see. First you have to know that I had just been fired
from my job. By a french guy from London. Then along came this big old
space ship full of evil aliens and they abduct me just slick as you please.
"Then I try to escape and wreck an escape pod and a sprinkler
system. And several service carts. Then that horrid creature ate the one
true love of my life. That just about covers the most recent sad events."
I leaned back and relaxed. This was much better. It felt good to unburden
this way. I began to feel better, just having faced up to the obvious. I
was alone. Everybody hated me. Well, except Tyrone. I wasn't sure about
him yet. They were going to sell me into slavery. I was probably doomed
to become a sex toy to an evil princess on a dark forbidding planet in
the far dark reaches of the galaxy. And there was nothing I could do
about it. I really was starting to perk up. Sometimes, the hardest
part is just seeing what is really happening. You know?
"So. Hmmm." said Kirksey. "Let's consider then. Persecution complex aggravated
by an disassociative compulsion and strained by a rather overt worship
of authority." He stopped and gazed up at the ceiling, which gave me a
chance to glance about at the walls. Much to my surprise I saw a giant
black powder musket hanging there.
"Nice gun." I said, sensing a tension in the air.
"What?" he asked.
"I said, 'Nice gun'... You know there on the wall." I pointed to the twelve
foot long device.
"That's not a gun son. That's a Kenyucky long rifle. There is a big difference.
I got that as first prize at the first annual Tyrone Shootin' Sports trials
and clay squirrel extravaganza. I was presented that rifle by 'THE' Tyrone himself."
"Oh." I squeaked. I decided I better keep better track of Tyrone. He obvously
didn't understand our peril. To introduce weaponry to these aliens seemed
a bit dangerous to me.
"Yes. He said it was probably me being from the great state of Tenyucky and
our great tradition of squirrel hunting. Very strange comment that was." said
Kirksey. "I have never heard of the place. I hail out of the greater megellanic.
Little town of seven billion called Lexiconton. Ever heard of it?" he asked.
"No, not really. But you have to know that until I was stollen by evil aliens,
I didn't get out much. Wyoming is a small, unusually quiet place. I really miss it."
"Ok. So let's add Inferiority to the growing list of complexity." Kirksey said.
I sat silent and watched Doc Sulk pick his nose. I did a double take on that,
and sure enough the nose was gone. I could have sworn I saw... well. Nevermind.
"Maybe we can try a little TA here." said Kirksey.
"Sorry. I was daydreaming. A little what?" I apologized.
"Ok. So we add Adult Attention Deficit Disorder to the list. Humm..." he
stared hard at me. It was a little disconcerting. For a moment I had one of
those moments where you swear you have done this or seen this before.
Head forward. Head sideways. Stare. Head forward... I broke the spell and
returned to the moment.
"Whatever you say. I just want to get to the good stuff." I said.
Kirksey spent several seconds, carefully erasing the word "adult" from
his ever-growing list of notes.
"TA." he said, "Transactional Analysis. It works this way. We talk about what
has happened to you as if it were an ordinary business or social transaction.
Then I will ask you questions about your feelings. You know. Did you think
that was fair? Did you enjoy that part? Did any of it frighten you? That sort
of thing. Ok?" he asked.
"Sure. Sounds all right to me." I said. Doc had lost interest and was over at
his hand truck, kind of kicking the tires and grumbling about how unfair life
can be and having to spend all his time either in the dark or being carried
about by reconstituted monkeys. This was ok with me. I really didn't feel
comfortable talking about the Doc to his face, and he was a big part of
my current problem. I have always loved asparagus you see, and... well.
There it is. It is difficult forming a friendship with a big potted specimen
of ones favorite meal. If you see what I'm getting at here.
"Let's say that you have just found out that you will never be able to
return to this 'Why Oh Ming' or whatever.", he began. "How would you feel
about that?"
"Not good." I said.
"Can you expound on that a bit?" he asked.
"Well it would be like being cheated, you know. I didn't ask to be kidnapped
by evil aliens. Why should I have to remain a captive against my will?" I
said.
"Very good.I feel that we are making progress here. Next time we will talk
about this some more. Now if you will excuse me, I see that my two o'clock is
waiting."
"That's it? Just 'Very Good' and out the door?" I sputtered. "I want some
kindness and understanding here! I want you to ask deep meaningful questions
to bare out the unkind and terrible wrongs that have been done to me! And
all I get is 'Very Good'! I don't think so. This is a load of crap!" My anger
was up now, and Doc had to force me out the door using his hand truck as
a lever.
As we left, I noticed Kirksey scatching in further notes; catching glimpses of
phrases like "extremely mal adjusted and completely anti-social" and "childish
obsession with his past" and stuff like that.
But I felt better. Until I had to listen to Doc , sulking about the damned
old worn-out hand truck all the way home. Strange. I really was starting to
think of my room on the ship as home. I didn't even mind the padded walls
anymore. Maybe they were slipping me evil medicines to make me forget.
I was glad that Kirksey couldn't see my eyes at that moment. I didn't need
more notes about delusion and paranoia added to my already too long list.
Time passed. But then again, it usually does. I became convinced that
some great purpose was being served and that I was central to it's
completion. Then I noticed that it was just regular steak and salad.
Being served. But I was hungry so I saw to its' completion. It was the
only thing I could do. It gave me purpose. I suppose.
With time passing and all, I resigned myself to my fate. Doc Sulk
explained to me about time dilation and the fact that all my friends
and family back home were dead. Since Tyrone and I had risen on the
golden shaft of light in the dark forests of Wyoming, forty five thousand
years had gone by.
"But Doc, I still don't get it I guess.", I said. "I thought we just
warped about from place to place converting anti-matter pellets into
energy and stuff."
"I'm not surprised.", he said.
"What was that?", I asked.
"That you don't get it. I'm not surprised."
I was beginning to resent the rude root. He had this supercilious
sneer on his twisted lip most of the time now. I did a double take and
sure enough the lip was gone. But the sneer managed to hang on somehow.
"So humor me.", I said. "Pretend we are doing a dialogue in a book where
the reader has no clue concerning time-space and travel at the speed of
light. Ok? Just answer the question, OK?" I demanded.
"Why?", he said.
"Just because, OK!?", I kind of shouted. I was beginning to lose patience.
Then I realized that my sarcastic retort was probably lost on the Doc,
he having stood alone in the dark for thirty five thousand years and all.
"All right, all right. You don't have to get in a snit." he sniffled.
I checked for a nose. YOu guessed it. But the sniffle was real.
"'kay. Thats better.", i said calmly. "So what you are saying is that I
can never go home. That it is hopeless to even dream of returning to all
I love and care for." I said.
"Is it?" he asked.
"Is what?" I replied.
"What?" he said.
I could tell that his heart wasn't in this redundent bit of techno dialogue,
so I decided to assume that you the reader are at least as smart as the
potted plant, and just move on with the plot.
"Ok. I know when I'm licked." I said.
"That's nice." he said.
And the rest of that day passed in this very same manner. Over and over.
I began to feel a burden to the Good Doctor. He was just tolerating me
because Captain "Evil" Koik had ordered him to stick with me. I wasn't born
yesterday you know. I could read the writing on the wall!
"Say Doc," i said, "What is that writing on the wall?" I asked, noticing for
the first time a message appearing on the wall in my cell -- er room.
"Why I believe it is 'Writing on the wall'." he sneered.
"Yea, but what does it say?" I asked.
"It is in galactic standard. It says 'Will the two specimens from planet earth
please report to the science department head, Dr. Kynqi so that your
brains can be removed for examination. Again, that's the two specimens
from earth, please report now. Thank you. And don't miss the specials on
isle ten. The blue light is now lit."
"Oh." I said.
"Oh! I say!" I said. The Doc never moved or reacted to this evil news, so
I at last knew my fate. He was part of this evil plot. I was doomed.
"You're doomed you know." he said.
"What do you mean?" I asked coyly. I was trying to buy time to try and figure
a way of escaping this horrible fate.
"You'll never figure a way of escaping." he said.
"Why should I try to escape?" I asked innocently, my heart racing.
"Because of the way you are pulling out your hair and bighting your claws." he
answered.
I slowly withdrew my fingers from my mouth. "Fingernails." I said.
"What?" he asked.
"They are fingernails. Not claws."
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I could have swore the manual said 'Claws'. Oh well.
Besides, It's not what you think." he said.
"Oh. I suppose having ones brains removed is quite the fashion this season." I
stated, trying to drip sarcasm. " I hear that elective lobotomy is really
quite the rage again."
"Did I say removed?" he said innocently. "Oops. Sorry. It says 'Recorded', not
'removed'"
I let this penetrate into my head. Well, that didn't sound so bad then.
"Gotcha!" he grinned.
I checked for a mouth. Not even.
"You are an evil plant, Doc. Truly Evil." I spilled a quart of dirt
getting the bugger onto his old worn out hand truck and felt some small
sense of satisfaction hearing him spout on about 'life blood' and
'very existence' and whatnot.
We made our way to the science department for our appointment with fate.
And/or Dr. kynqi. Whichever turned out to be in command of reality when
we arrived.
Out amongst the dark drapery of space hung the brilliant lights of
a million star ships, each zooming toward the blue planet. At the
command post sat Great Big Almighty High Soldier,Diplomat,Ruler,
Supreme Being, Protector Of All Things - From Bug To Butkiss --
Rolph Nodder.
Everybody just called him "Majestic Ruler Supreme" for
short. Except when he wasn't there. Then he was almost universally
referred to amongst the officers as "the missus" which is a contraction
of "MRS"... you see. Amongst the grunts and soldiers he would
always be "beatle bomb" which went back to the accidental destruction
of their home world.
You see, there was this beatle bug that was killing the plants and
there was nothing left to eat and the people were dying and the Great
Ruler used this hastily concocted insect bomb but the bomb was illegal
because of the protection clause in the great order of protection of
all animals that he himself had proclaimed and the bomb didn't go off
and the the Majestic Ruler Supreme got really,really frustrated and
pissed off and nuked the bugs so he could have his salad. Whew! But
that's another story.
It took several kyotic protocols to explain the need to leave Butkiss,
but he being the 'Missus' and all... he got it through their peon brains
eventually. With starvation came understanding. Who would have thought
that to save life one must take life?
Now the travelers needed a new planet to protect. That was their nature.
"Bring the fleet to all stop in orbit around the target!" yelled
Rolph Nodder. "Err... I mean the new Holy Mother." he said.
"Aye Ms. Nodder!", returned the fleet yeller guy.
"What was that?", demanded Nodder.
"It was in your morning proclamation. 'Gender neutral' and all that.",
said the yeller. The yeller always turned this to 'Yelled the Sayer'
in his mind. Relativity. Whatever.
"Oh. Right. Right. 'mizzzz'" he lisped, perfecting the roll of z's
over his bifurcated tongue. Actually it was quadrufurcated, but he only
used the third tongue on gullible children and the fouth on -- Never mind.
First and second were usually close enough for government work.
"Are the people ready to die for my... errr... the fatherland?" he
demanded.
"Yes! Majestic Ruler Supreme! They are ready!" said the fleet yeller guy.
"Good. That is what One expects." Said Rolph Nodder. He whipped out his
'sword of conservation' and cut the ear off of a flunky. The flunky bit
his tongue, which was not too cool to have blood dripping from an ear and
a tongue. But that is the life of a flunky. Always the whacked, never the
whacker.
"Everything we do, We do to the glory of Butkiss!", which was the name
of the old ex-homeworld, "And to the glory of the cause!" He yelled.
To which came the loud yelled response... "The Glorious Greenery!" screamed
by a billion Butkissers throughout the fleet. "Long Live The Shrub!"
Which chant and scream repeats three times and ends with the holy chant of
"Don't eat it if it moves!"
A billion mouths salivated, staring at the bright blue gem ahead of them.
A planet known as Earth. A beauty... just ripe for the preserving.
Oops... Seem to have misplaced part 10 of this wonderful saga.
One sad thing of us creative genius types <edit... this is dripping sarcastic humor, in case you miss it >... saving files and such is such a bore. Wouldn't it be great to not have to worry about the details?
So I'll just recap for you. Stuff happens... then
Well it would have been a billion if not for the inquisition. Sniffle.
Ima Pradnik was an inquisitor third class. But that didn't mean
he had no class. He wore all the best types of fibers and he read
the 'Inquisition Weekly' and even watched the daily beheadings on
the telly.
So when the order came from the 'Missus' to "line up for landing", he
went about it with his usual zeal.
"Ok. Now that you are lined up, lets do it one more time!" he shouted
over the fleet intercom. "Do it by decimal. Count! Now!"
And for the five hundred and tenth time since leaving Butkiss five
hundred and eight days ago... the tenth in line was beheaded on the
spot. Decimation! What a great thing! And so fun.
Ima Pradnik felt great! He was really getting good at this.
So he was a little taken aback when his personal communicator rang
and he saw the "missus" on the other end of the line.
"What the hell are you Doing?@!" shouted Rolph Nodder.
"The usual. Another line up." he stated blandly. "And I must say it went
well. I'm sure we got at least a dozen more flesh eaters in this round!"
"You idiot! I said to 'line up for landing'. Doesn't that mean anything
to you?" shouted Nodder.
"Sure Boss... just like all the other times. Right?" he asked shyly.
"Wrong! This time I meant to 'line up' our million space ship fleet so
we can conquo... errrr... Save the targe.... errrr... New Mother of all."
"Oh. Well then. I guess we can do that. How do we do it again?" asked
Ima Pradnik.
"Just get all one million ships pilots to do it. They know how." said
Rolph disjustedly.
"Well ---- there may just be a little problem there." muttered Ima.
"What? What did you say?" demanded the missus.
"I said, there may be a little problem. Almost all of the pilots died in
the first rounds of executions for attempting to eat meat. Sorry." sniffled
the inquisitor, as he casually stirred three dozen rats with his canvas
slipper, bighting his tongue as a big mean one, about a foot long
took a chunk out of his big toe.
"What!", shouted Nodder. "Why wasn't I told of this?"
"I did mention it actually. I'm sure you will find it in the fleet summary
list of heritic deaths. Under 'justice served' on the big chalk board
in the fleet lunch room." said Pradnik. "And there is the problem with
the 'R' word." he said.
"What are you talking about!?" demanded the mightly leader and protector
of all animals.
"You know. The word you said nobody could talk about." he said.
"What the hell are you talking about. Spit it out! I'm in no mood!"
"You know. 'THEEE' R word. Rats."
"Yes, yes. What about them?" demanded Nodder.
"They killed the last three pilots that we had in the fleet." sniffled the
inquisitioner.
"What! How could this happen?" demanded the boss.
"The 'usual' I'm afraid. The rats just fill up the space and suffocated
people in their sleep. Tons of rats. What's one to do though?" he asked
innocently. "There isn't much we can do with them under the Animals Are
People laws. Is there? Us being in space in closed quarters and them
with unlimited food and all." he said.
"What food? I expressly forbade the use of our food for the care of these
creatures. I clearly expressed that we let them die out 'naturally' so that
we are still blameless. Why wasn't my dictum followed!?" bellowed Rolph.
"Well. We sort of had this problem. The people know better than to hurt
a rat. But the rats just keep eating people. The more they eat, the more
of them there are. It is a really knotty problem. I have worried about
it for days on end." said the holy inquisitioner.
"Let me get this straight." said the MRS. "You killed all but a few of
the people who can fly this fleet. Then the remainder were eaten by rats.
Is that about the way of it?" Nodder said in a very quiet, hushed tone.
"You got it boss." said Ima, "oh, and I forgot to mention that we also
seem to have misplaced all but two engineers. And there are only three
people left in the fleet who can do that funny stuff... 'math' I think
they call it."
And so the grand million strong fleet sailed right on by the wonderful
blue planet. And into the sun where a really hot time was had by all.
Except for the ship of the 'missus'. It did slow down and begin to circle.
In anticipation of saving the globally warming planet and all of it's
sinners. Rolph casually kicked aside a few thousand rats as he made his
way to the communications center. It was time to radio his contacts in the
Green Party below.