Melvin Hemingway carried five cups of coffee into the hospital waiting room: two in each hand, two in each armpit, and one frappuccino wedged into the front of his pants. He moved very slowly and was very uncomfortable. He carried three sugar packets in his beanie. Eventually, he managed to put them all down on an end table and sat down perpendicular to his very stressed out mother, who had been staring at the floor and only just then noticed he’d returned from the coffee cart.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Oh, did you want one?” Asked Melvin.
For a few minutes, Mrs. Hemingway stayed silent and continued staring at the floor, while Melvin guzzled his coffees without pausing for breath. Finally, she looked back up at him.
“Aliens,” she said, matter-of-factly. Melvin put his second cup down and wiped a little spillage from his cheek. “He thinks it was aliens.”
“Do you believe him?” Asked Melvin.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Aliens don't exist. Not like J.R.R. Tolkien exists. He must have gotten roughed up pretty good,” she started biting her nails.
“I like to keep an open mind,” Melvin said, thoughtfully.
She gave a quick, quiet laugh; one “ha”, but left half a smile lingering on her face like when you’re trying to leave a party, but can’t stop talking to a good friend. “I love that you always take your brother’s side. But E.J. clearly doesn’t know what he saw, or his head is maybe jumbled up. Right now, I’m just glad he’s alive.”
Melvin got a text on his cell phone. It was from Posie, asking if he was busy. He texted back “@ the hospital E.j. was in an axident.”
She texted back “OMW”. He couldn’t tell if she meant “on my way” or “oh my word”, so he passive-aggressively texted back “SGH”, which meant absolutely nothing. Then he looked up and to the left and started thinking about when he and his brother were kids.
----
Elijah James “E.J.” Hemingway, a fifth grader (who got very good grades, thank you very much) had left his classroom to use the restroom, when he noticed Melvin, a third grader (who was plenty smart in other ways, such as joke books and jungle gyms, thank you very much) sitting in a chair outside the principal’s office.
“What are you doing there?” E.J. asked his brother.
“Pulled my pants down for show and tell,” Melvin answered like he’d accomplished something notable.
“Why’d you do that?” E.J. reacted, scrunching up his nose.
When Melvin answered that same question to inquiring grown-ups, he just said “I didn’t bring anything for show and tell. I just showed what I had”.
But Melvin told E.J. a bit more: “The new girl was picking on me. She’s a giant. I was trynna gross her out. WAS gonna pee on her, but Miss Waffle interrupted by starting class. So I had to wait until show and tell, but I couldn’t reach her with my pee stream from up front.”
(The “new girl” in question was Posie Pillow. She wasn’t new. She merely had a growth spurt over the summer making her a head taller than everyone in the class. The poor girl also had frizzy red hair and hand-me-down hippy clothes, so she stuck out like a traffic light in a field of cacti. Melvin had simply never noticed her until now. She didn’t know what to do about other kids teasing her about her height, so she teased them right back:
“You’re tall,” said Melvin.
She gave a quick, quiet laugh; one “ha”, but left half a smile lingering on her face like when you’re trying to leave a party, but can’t stop talking to a good friend. “I love that you always take your brother’s side. But E.J. clearly doesn’t know what he saw, or his head is maybe jumbled up. Right now, I’m just glad he’s alive.”
Melvin got a text on his cell phone. It was from Posie, asking if he was busy. He texted back “@ the hospital E.j. was in an axident.”
She texted back “OMW”. He couldn’t tell if she meant “on my way” or “oh my word”, so he passive-aggressively texted back “SGH”, which meant absolutely nothing. Then he looked up and to the left and started thinking about when he and his brother were kids.
----
Elijah James “E.J.” Hemingway, a fifth grader (who got very good grades, thank you very much) had left his classroom to use the restroom, when he noticed Melvin, a third grader (who was plenty smart in other ways, such as joke books and jungle gyms, thank you very much) sitting in a chair outside the principal’s office.
“What are you doing there?” E.J. asked his brother.
“Pulled my pants down for show and tell,” Melvin answered like he’d accomplished something notable.
“Why’d you do that?” E.J. reacted, scrunching up his nose.
When Melvin answered that same question to inquiring grown-ups, he just said “I didn’t bring anything for show and tell. I just showed what I had”.
But Melvin told E.J. a bit more: “The new girl was picking on me. She’s a giant. I was trynna gross her out. WAS gonna pee on her, but Miss Waffle interrupted by starting class. So I had to wait until show and tell, but I couldn’t reach her with my pee stream from up front.”
(The “new girl” in question was Posie Pillow. She wasn’t new. She merely had a growth spurt over the summer making her a head taller than everyone in the class. The poor girl also had frizzy red hair and hand-me-down hippy clothes, so she stuck out like a traffic light in a field of cacti. Melvin had simply never noticed her until now. She didn’t know what to do about other kids teasing her about her height, so she teased them right back:
“You’re tall,” said Melvin.
“You’re dumb,” said Posie.
"That's mean. I'm gonna pee on you," said Melvin.
"Okay class, time for show and tell!" Said Miss Waffle.)
The principal came out of the office: “Melvin, do you know why what you did was inappropriate?”
E.J. wheeled around to face the principal and declared, “oh, like you haven’t wanted to show your wingding to Miss Waffle!? You’re just jealous cause Melvin’s got guts you ain’t!”
That was the only time Melvin and E.J. had ever gotten detention. Their parents thought it was hilarious.
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Joe Michaels, another fifth grader, only in a different town, was sitting in his living room with a bowl of cereal watching Professor Whom on the television. He heard the sound of keys outside jingling. His mom entered through the front door, clearly tired from work, hung her purse on the coat hook, sauntered behind him and collapsed backward into the recliner. After rubbing her hands over her eyes for a moment, she noticed Joe hadn't moved or eaten or blinked.
"Why are you watching that bug-eyed alien show again? Don't you have math homework to-day?" She asked.
"I finished it already," he answered without prying his eyes from the screen.
"Can I check your work?" She asked.
"It's on the end table next to the mason jar of soil, sand, silt, clay and humus."
"Are you collecting specific dirts? ...Half these answers are wrong," she said.
"It's just a first draft. You said I couldn't watch Professor Whom without finishing my homework. I figured I'd finish right away and edit it after the show, when I have more time to think."
"That's not how..." She began to argue with him, but decided to change approaches. "You know math is very important. Didn't you say you wanted to grow up and be a good accountant like your father?"
"That was sooo last month. I don't want to be another Jewish stereotype by working in the money industry."
"A Jewish-"
"I want to be a paranormal detective like Professor Whom!"
"That's not a real..." she decided mid-sentence that she needed to go to the kitchen and get a beer. But upon feeling around in her pocket for her key chain bottle opener, she realized her keys were missing. She came back into the living room and looked around. "Did you see where I put my keys down? What am I asking you for, you haven't looked away from the screen since I got here."
"They're in the recliner cushion," said Joe, eyes still trained on the program. His mom sank her hand into the chair and recovered her keys.
"How did you know that's where they were?" She asked. Then she whispered, "did... did you smell them fall into the chair?"
"You used them to get into the house, so you didn't leave them in the car. The only place you went was the recliner. And you're wearing those slacks with the long side-pockets. Elementary."
His mom let out a long sigh and finally said "okay, so paranormal detective isn't a thing, but detective might not be such a bad career move for you."
"It's aliens or nothing!" Joe shouted as he sprang forward, latching onto his mom's legs causing her to collapse to the floor.
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Posie Pillow came into the hospital waiting room wearing a yellow jumpsuit, a matching ribbon in her hair, and a very un-matching pair of dirty, worn out, brown work boots. Following her was a tall, dark, and handsome boy in a white trench coat, aviators and black rubber gloves. This was Posie’s boyfriend Colin Doppler, who everyone in the class sarcastically called “Manic”.
"Oh great, she brought the robot," Melvin muttered under his breath.
“Posie, you came!” Melvin said over his breath. “And you’re dressed as the middle line in most roads! Why are you the color they paint roads with?”
Manic spoke monotonously, “We came as soon as we heard.”
Don’t you dare say what you’re thinking, thought Melvin to himself.
“Don’t you dare say what you’re thinking,” said Melvin.
Damnit, thought Melvin.
“Is E.J. okay?” Posie asked, sitting down where Melvin’s mom had been. Mrs. Hemingway had, minutes earlier, rolled up six joints and quietly slipped away to the bathroom.
“He’s a little beat up, but he’s probably fine,” Melvin answered. “He had some bandages over his eyes. But when he tried to tell us what happened, it was really confusing. Apparently, he and Nick were sitting on the hood of his car, when an alien attacked. He looked like a sort of beast-man, with black skin-”
"Like mine?” Manic raised one eyebrow.
“N-no, not like that, like…” Melvin stammered. “Like real burnt black. Jet black. Like a dark elf, or a drow.”
“What’s a drow?” Asked Posie.
“It’s another word for dark elf,” answered Melvin.
“Oh, that’s redundant,” said Posie.
“I wasn’t giving you two examples, I was saying ‘like a dark elf, or [in other words] a drow’. I was giving you a vocabulary lesson.”
“So a drow attacked E.J. and Nick? That sounds unlikely.”
“He said it was an alien.”
“That sounds more reasonable to me, because I believe in life on other planets. Unlike J.R.R. Tolkien, who the government made up,” she explained. Manic raised his eyebrow again judgmentally.
“Yeah,” continued Melvin. “I guess they tried to drive away, but the alien ripped the door off the passenger’s side, and pulled Nick out by the arm. Supposedly, the alien exploded, blinding E.J. in the driver’s seat and sending the whole vehicle out of the driveway, down the road, and over an eight foot cliff into some blackberry bushes.”
“Wait, so Nick…?”
“Nick is missing. They are looking for her now.”
Posie’s eyes went wide and she put her hands over her mouth. Then she hugged Melvin, which reminded Melvin of his first dance, which was with Posie, back in Junior High. He looked up and to the left and had another flashback.
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Melvin passed through Junior high the way of all men: misshapen and oily. He and E.J. were alike in only three regards, and this was one of them. The other two were their hats, which they removed so infrequently, their peers started creating legends about what they were hiding underneath. Some of the speculations were: small animals, drugs, demons, scalp tattoos, inter-dimensional portals, and more hats.
The two of them had only ever been to one school dance, and it was the same one. They arrived separately; E.J. came alone with his science textbook, and Melvin showed up with his two closest friends, Posie Pillow and Stu Silver.
The other kids in the class had begun to gracelessly increase the lengths of their limbs and torsos in random order, and Posie herself had traded being a giant among her own people to being quite regular sized. This was much to her delight, as she no longer stuck out for being so tall. Now she only stuck out by having wild, bushy red hair and for dressing like a kaleidoscope
E.J. sauntered over to the punch bowl and said hello to Nicole “Nick” Thom (who had that nickname because she could play sports just as well as any boy, thank you very much).
“Are you actually gonna dance?” She asked him, a little too loud.
“I thought about it,” he answered, non-committally. “I haven’t come out to a dance yet. This is my brother’s first one too. He’s right over there.” He pointed to Melvin, who was slow-dancing with a folding chair.
“Dang, he’s got the hottest date in this place,” she chuckled to herself.
“Yes, she has really nice legs,” joked E.J., as he took a drink of punch. “I wonder why he doesn't ask a human to dance. Like that Pillow girl he's always hanging around with. Or Stu,” He didn’t wonder. He did mildly think he ought to wonder, but mainly he just wanted to keep the conversation going. Any subject would do.
“Have you ever asked a girl out?” Asked Nick, a little too loud again, and mentally kicking herself for her untimely lack of volume control.
“Well, no,” E.J. admitted.
(In fact, when he was seven years old, he asked five little girls at a playground to marry him. They each got upset when they found out they weren’t the only one. One of them cried. E.J. explained that he was just being progressive.)
“Maybe you should,” said Nick, this time a little too quietly, over-correcting and looking at her feet like there was something interesting about her toes. E.J. felt himself start to blush, which irritated him. He changed the subject.
“I’m going to do my brother a solid. Get him and that Pillow girl dancing. If he’s not going to make his move, I’m going to make it for him,” he started to storm off.
Nick shouted after him, “And then you’re gonna dance with me, okay!?” She shouted this before she had a chance to think about, get nervous butterflies, and talk herself out of it. She went ahead and experienced all those emotions afterward anyways, out of principle, and gave herself the hiccups.
E.J. grabbed Melvin by the arm, lead him to a row of chairs and told him to wait there. Melvin didn’t like taking orders, but it was so out of character for E.J. to give him any that he didn’t remember to argue or fuss about it until he had already left speaking distance. If I’m going to sit and wait, he thought to himself, I’m going to do it my way! He flipped himself upside-down, with his legs dangling over the top of the chair, and his head hanging off the seat.
A few minutes later, a pair of pink clogs over pink, knee-high stockings walked up to him. He tilted his head up to see a pink dress, pink scarf, pink gloves, all topped with a pepto-bismol colored fishing hat, with frizzy red hair pouring out the bottom of it. It was Posie, wearing a genocide of pink. Somewhere a flamingo shed a single tear.
“Can you dance with me?” She asked. Melvin wordlessly turned himself upright and escorted her to the dance floor.
Some people, by Junior High, had taken dance classes and greeted the ill-lit linoleum gym floor like an old friend. The average Junior High student, however, has not had any such dancing education, formal or otherwise. However, a phenomenon occurs at everyone’s first dance: without fail, everyone teaches themselves, on the fly, the exact same couple’s slow dance. The distance between each couple varies, as does hand placement (some put their hands on their partner’s shoulders, some their wastes, some lock hands; Phil and Lem had even put their hands in a choking gesture around each other’s throats in parody), but the feet were all making the same steps: slow, swaying circles. Scientists have yet to figure out why, but if you ask teachers and chaperones, they will touch their noses, give you a knowing smile, and with a twinkle in their eye, they will say “it’s magic”.
E.J. and Nick danced that night with one hand each on the other’s shoulder, the other on the lower back. Melvin tried to put one hand on Posie’s cheek, but she grabbed it and slid it down to her shoulder, and then she spent the remainder of the song talking about how the bassoon is an underrated instrument, even though he didn’t say anything back.
After the dance, back at their house, Melvin thanked his brother.
“For what?” asked E.J.
“For getting Posie to dance with me. It was nice.”
“I didn’t do that,” he admitted. “I was going to, but then you started hanging upside down in your chair, like a goofus. Did you dance with Posie?” E.J. was surprised. So was Melvin. At that moment, he decided to start having a crush on Posie Pillow.
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"Do you want to be my lab partner this time?" Stu Silver asked Posie, about a week later in their biology class.
"I usually partner with Colin," she replied.
"Manic? Again? I mean," Stu lowered his voice a touch, "you're not even friends with the guy, right? You don't know him. Nobody knows him. He's a vulcan."
"I like being lab partners with Mani- uh, Colin. He's really smart, and we get A's. And I like that he wants to partner with me, it makes me feel useful."
"But you're friends with me," Stu argued. "You're my only friend in here, Melvin's not in this class."
"Why do you care so much about this?" Posie asked.
"Because you're my only friend in here," he repeated, not knowing what else to say. He thought for a second and found more words, "I came out of the closet, and nobody else has. Nobody I know in this town, no other kids. Everyone thinks it's weird and I can tell. How do you not see that?"
"Excuse me!" Posie replied defensively. "I'm not a mind reader. I can't tell how you feel unless you use your words. I don't have this problem with Colin."
"That's because Manic is a vulcan," Stu escalated, more confused what nerve of Posie's he stepped on than anything.
They both snapped their tongues back behind their teeth as Manic walked briskly toward them.
"You ready?" He asked Posie.
"Yes I am," she shot Stu a look and followed him across the room.
"Good," Stu muttered bitterly under his breath. "Go ahead and run off with your easy A, and ditch your friend for the teacher to pair up with someone uncomfortable. See if I care."
"I'm glad you're my lab partner," Posie said to Manic, still clearly irritated. Manic raised one eyebrow. She continued, "you don't treat me like I'm dumb just because I'm not a mind reader. I can always tell how you feel."
"That's because I'm basically a vulcan," he replied, setting up the microscope.
"Exactly. A voltron. No drama."
"And it's not that I don't think you're dumb. Everyone is dumb. But you don't have an ego about it. It makes doing all the work easier."
Posie said "thank you", but then immediately wondered if she should have taken that as a compliment. "I'll take that to mean you think we make a good team," she decided out loud.
For about five minutes, Posie sat there while Manic periodically looked away from the microscope to write something down.
"We do make a good team," he said suddenly. "Would you be interested in going steady with me?"
Posie hiccuped once, then said "what?" But Manic didn't ask again. After processing the question, she eventually said, "I didn't know you felt that way about me."
"I didn't either until just now," he answered. "I hadn't considered dating at all. But if I had, I'd conclude that being a good team is a pretty significant qualifier for a lasting relationship. A lot of the other kids in our class go steady and break up within the same week."
"You keep saying 'go steady'. What decade is that from? Not this one."
"It seems to me they don't last because they don't know how to apply scientific problem solving etiquette to their relationships. So what do you say? Are you interested in going steady with me?"
"Uh sure," Posie agreed.
"Fantastic," Manic smiled.
For about five minutes, Posie sat there while Manic periodically looked away from the microscope to write something down.
She actively focused on adjusting to the fact that she was now in her first relationship. Then a few questions occurred to her, all at once, audibly.
"What does being in a relationship mean to you? Like, do we go to the dances together now? Do we hold hands? Do we talk on the phone? What do we do?" She leaned in and whispered, "do we mouth kiss?"
Manic raised one eyebrow, "How about you come over to my house after school on Thursday? I have a project I'm working on want to show you. Then we can... make popcorn and watch a cinema... flick."
"You mean a moving picture?" She teased.
"Whatever."
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"Did you bring back that cupcake I lent you?" Stu asked Melvin after class by the lockers.
"I ate it," Melvin relied.
"What do you mean you ate it? You asked to borrow it," Stu reacted, dejected.
"You're serious?" Melvin puzzled. "Why would I just borrow a cupcake? I obviously wanted to eat it."
"I have a boyfriend now, you guys!" Posie ran up to them, excited.
"What?" Stu was effectively distracted. "With whom?"
"Colin!" She beamed.
"Congratulations!" He beamed back. Then, "wait, you mean Manic?"
"Yeah! I know you don't think that highly of him. But I think he's cool. And I think it would be cool of you to be cool about it, cause he's prolly gonna hang out with us sometimes, okay?"
"Yeah," Stu rolled it around in his head. "Yeah, yes. No, of course, I'm totally happy for you. That's awesome. Right, Melvin?"
Melvin had left already.
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“Melvin? Melvin? Hello?” Posie was waving her hand in front of Melvin’s face in the hospital room. He snapped back to attention.
“Yes? What?”
“Were you flashing back again?” She asked. “You hugged me for like five minutes. I got free, but you kept your arms out like this.” She mimed hugging an invisible person.
“Oh damnit, I was,” he cursed. “It was my New Year’s resolution to stop flashing back and everything. It won’t happen again, I promise. Wait, one more.” He looked up and to the left, and thought about earlier that day when he was in the hospital patient room alone with E.J.
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“I had a stuffed lion when we were little. Do you remember that? It was green,” E.J. asked Melvin.
“No, I don’t remember,” he answered.
“Yeah… my green lion. It was my favorite toy. I could use it as a pillow. It got pretty smelly toward the end.”
“I still don’t really remember.”
“You were pretty young. I guess I’m not surprised. You liked it too though. I remember. You wanted to play with it at the park and I didn’t want you to, but mom made me share.”
“She did? That bitch.”
“You left it there, and it was gone when we went back to look.”
“Oh,” Melvin didn’t quite know what to say to that. Had he been holding this grudge all these years?
E.J. laughed, “Mom had trouble enforcing the sharing rule after that.”
Melvin shifted in his seat, “I’m sorry I lost your lion.”
“I don’t care about the lion. And I never blamed you, not really. At some point, I became too adult for toys, and all the toy related transgressions that had ever happened to me just seemed silly. Besides: you’re my brother and my best friend. What’s a stuffed lion between us?”
“So why bring it up?”
E.J. was silent for awhile.
Then he said, “We were in a fight.”
“You and me? Over the lion?”
“Me and Nick. Earlier, before…” it was hard to see E.J.’s expression behind the bandages, but Melvin guessed his current emotion rhymed with “Tad”. Mad, glad, sad, Chad... could've been anything really.
“She got a sports scholarship to a college, and I’m going to a completely different university for science and law. We were arguing about that, and where we’d live, and it seemed so important. And it would have been; it’s a very urgent conversation that we needed to address in our relationship. We’d be separated.”
“I’m so sorry, man,” Melvin offered. “That’s a sucky note to suddenly have her go missing on.”
“You’re telling me!” E.J. sniffed. “I just… I don’t know where she is, I don’t know where that alien took her, or whether she’s alive. But wherever she is, I need her to forgive me. I need her to know that argument… is a green lion to me.”
Melvin thought that using a stuffed animal as a metaphor for insignificance was cheesy, but managed to bite his tongue about it. “That’s really cheesy,” I lied, he said it out loud.
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Melvin’s attention returned to the waiting room.
“Where did Manic go?” he asked.
“He got impatient and left,” answered Posie.
Melvin’s mom sauntered into the room, looked at the two of them long and hard with bloodshot eyes and finally said, “Who’s hungry? I want a million cinnamon rolls.”
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Posie unzipped her graduation gown down the front as she strolled briskly down the street, taking a shortcut between the old library and the Teague Sisters antique store. The street lights started to flicker lazily awake, spreading their glow like spray paint on the wet asphalt as the sun dipped behind the mountains. She darted across the street and into the trees, trying not to slip on the mud, and then trying not to slip on the wet rocks on the river bank, only stopping when she made it to the small wooden dock.
"You're still in your gown," Manic was there waiting for her, already out of his own.
"I wasn't sure we were still meeting here," she huffed, a little out of breath.
"I admit, graduation day is out of the ordinary. But we always meet here. I would have said something if I thought we should break casual pattern over such a formal life event."
"Well, I'm glad," she smiled. "No need to break pattern just yet. We've got all summer."
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that," he said. "I've decided to get a jump start on college by moving out there right away and taking summer classes."
Posie's smile disappeared. "Oh... I thought we were going to relax and enjoy the summer twilight before we have to face adulthood."
"You're welcome to. But I've got nothing going on for me here, and I'd rather get to the point."
"What about me? Am I not... going on for you here?" She averted eye contact a little because she was afraid her face might be turning red.
"You would be," he answered, in his typical monotonous cadence. "But as long as we're going our separate ways when we go to college, our relationship has a bit of an expiration date, so to speak. At some point we have to ask ourselves if we'd be prolonging its life, or simply delaying its death."
"Who said we were going our separate ways?" She asked, surprised.
"What did you think was going to happen?"
"I dunno," she started fidgeting with her gown zipper, trying her best not to let the lump in her chest rise into her throat. "I thought we had the whole summer to figure that out. But I didn't want to make the same mistake as E.J. and Nick, you know? We can figure it out. Maybe I can just go to your college?"
"You're not getting into my college," Manic said matter-of-factly. Posie didn't take offense.
"Then I'll... just go to your city. I'll find a local job." She suggested thoughtfully.
"Posie, I could never get in the way of your ambitions like that."
"I don't have any ambitions," she blurted.
For a minute, they both just stood there.
Manic pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I didn't realize I was holding you back this badly," he finally said.
"What do you mean?"
"Haven't you applied to any colleges of your own?"
"No, I guess not. I just figured I'd follow your lead."
"You can't revolve your whole life around mine, Posie."
"Why not?"
"Because we're not going to be together."
For another minute, they just stood there.
The sun sunk behind the horizon.
The twilight was over.
Manic continued, "I can't really meet your needs, you know. Your emotional needs. Your friends, the ones you spend all your time with, they pick up the slack for me. Melvin, and the fruity one."
"Stu," she whispered.
"If I took you away from them, I couldn't possibly cover the loss and still keep up with my studies."
Posie took a deep breath, "but-"
"And furthermore," Manic interrupted. "I feel I've done you a bit of disservice by shouldering the bulk of the decisions these past few years we've been together. I don't believe you have no ambitions, and perhaps once you're no longer standing in the shadow of my brilliance, you will be free to discover what you want in life for yourself."
Posie attempted to respond, but the lump had reached her throat, her face was definitely red, and she would be embarrassed if she started crying after such a colossally egotistical and offensive excuse for a breakup.
"I'm coming off as condescending again, aren't I?" He asked. "I apologize. I really do wish you the best. And if it's any consolation, I'll be out of town in a week or two, and you won't have to deal with my ego anymore."
She still couldn't respond.
"Goodbye, Posie Pillow."
She didn't even turn to watch which direction he left in.
Well into the night, she finally cried the lump out of her throat. She pulled her cell phone out to call Melvin, but forgot his number.
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Melvin woke up to his phone ringing. He squinted at the back-lit screen trying to adjust his eyes so that he could see who was calling.
"Hello?" He answered.
"Hey, Melvin, it's Posie," said Posie, on the other end of the line.
"What's up? It's really late."
"I forgot your number, can you give it to me again?"
"Oh, sure," he said, and gave her his number.
"Thanks, bye," she hung up.
Melvin woke up a minute later to his phone ringing. He squinted at the back-lit screen trying to adjust his eyes so that he could see who was calling.
"Hello?" He answered.
"Hey Melvin, it's Posie," said Posie, on the other end of the line.
"Hey, if you forgot my number, how did you call me the first time?" He asked, rubbing his eye.
"Are you up?" She asked,
"Yes," he lied.
"Good. I just need to not be alone right now."
"Is everything okay?"
"Colin... Manic," she felt weird calling him that, but made a point to anyways. "We broke up. He just broke up with me."
Melvin sat up, "he dumped you on graduation day? What a jerk!"
Posie sniffed and smiled a little, "I know, right?"
"I'm so sorry," said Melvin. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Just stay on the phone with me please? I'm going to walk home."
"I can do that," he laid back down.
They stayed on the phone with each other, but didn't talk much after that. She commented on things she passed on her way home, like "I'm passing the antique store," and "The stars are cool looking", and Melvin said things like "yeah I'll bet" until he fell asleep with the phone in his ear.
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Joe Michaels woke up one eye at a time. The relative silence told him that he was the last person on the bus besides the bus driver; a young woman with a thick layer of makeup and lots of hair product, who was staring at him. He pulled out his novelty Professor Whom voice recorder, which was shaped like a sci-fi laser stick, and pointed it at the bus driver clicking the button that made the little lights glow.
The bus driver looked at the voice recorder and she said, "oh, the season three model! Well, one of them. The Professor went through four different models that season."
"Oh you're a fan of Professor Whom?" Joe asked her, putting the gadget back in his jacket.
"No, I'm not into sci-fi," she answered.
"Oh."
For a minute they just stared at each other. Then Joe asked, "are you just gonna stare at me?"
"Oh, sorry! Where are my manners? We're here! Welcome to Port Teague!" She laughed, and walked back up the isle, revealing she had "SEXY BUS" written on the seat of her shiny pants. Joe pealed himself off the leather seat.
Outside the bus, he pulled out his voice recorder and started talking into it.
"July 4th. I've landed in Port Teague. It appears to be a river town, and not a very old one, judging by the style of architecture-"
"It wasn't built that long ago," the bus driver interrupted behind him. "There was a huge music festival here back when it was just woods, and a bunch of people never left."
Joe continued into his voice recorder, "there appears to be a few crosses poking out of the trees, indicating a higher than average concentration of religion-"
"The government couldn't get the tent dwellers to leave," she interrupted again. "But since so many of them started having babies directly following the festival, they insisted that the unofficial town be made official and be brought up to code with streets and houses and schools and plumbing. That's when the protestants moved in to uh... help."
Joe turned around to face her, "do you know this much about all the places you visit, Miss...?"
"Oh, my name's Sasha, the sexy bus driver. That's what my pants say! I retain a lot of information," she tapped her forehead with one finger.
"That's why you know so much about Professor Whom," Joe deduced. "That's a pretty useful skill. Aren't you wasting it, driving a bus for work?"
"Hey!" She growled. "Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to be a sexy bus driver! So that's what I am! That's what my pants say!"
"Woah, woah, say it don't spray it," Joe backed away from her. "Your pants don't say that, by the way. They just say 'SEXY BUS'."
"Really?" Sasha tried vainly to read her own butt.
Joe turned back around and talked to his voice recorder some more, "I am on the move. I just need to find..." he rolled up his sleeve and revealed two numbers written on his arm in blue marker; longitude and latitude.
"Oh, that's near the docks!" Sasha looked over his shoulder. "Are you going to the party?"
"Party?" Joe's ears perked up.
"Yeah, the 4th of July party at the docks! I saw the coordinates on your arm and assumed that's what you were coming here for."
Joe had another look around the edge of town, then turned back to Sasha.
"Yes, that's exactly where I'm going. Will you take me there?"
Sasha giggled and blushed, "Oh, well, gee... I suppose I'd love to!"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ian's mind was beginning to cloud over. He was supposed to be organizing the room keys; not because they were disorganized, but because the hotel was unusually slow for how close it was to the 4th of July, and the manager thought he aught to look busy in case a customer came in. But nobody important was checking in on him, so instead he sat at the front desk staring at a wooden sign by the front door that had a snowman painted on it and the words "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas". That sign's been there for four years, and nobody ever takes it down for the summer.
The obnoxious calm of the slow work day was interrupted by the little brass bell on the door, and a man on a cell phone with a vaguely western looking fedora, suit, sandshoes, and impenetrable sunglasses with thick sides, almost like goggles. He was dragging a single luggage bag on wheels. Ian could hear one side of the conversation.
"Well of course HE would think it was a real ghost, he's an idiot!" E.J. said into the cell phone. "I'm sorry, he's not an idiot, he's just new. Look, I've investigated like a hundred haunted houses, and it's never ghosts. Hang on."
E.J. set the phone down on the front desk and dug out his ID to show to Ian, "I'm Elijah Hemingway. I booked a room last night for two. Mallory Gates should already be checked in." He put his ID away, took the key and resumed his phone call as he walked toward the stairs without his luggage. "Are you still there? Yes I was just-" He turned back around at the foot of the stairs and faced Ian again, pointing at his luggage. "Excuse me, sir, aren't you going to get that?"
Ian replied, "I'm not a bellhop." But E.J. didn't hear him; had already resumed his phone call and continued up the stairs. So Ian begrudgingly got up and started wheeling E.J.'s luggage up the stairs.
"Look why don't you send me the files, and I'll give them a lookover. I'm in Port Teague investigating a potential alien landing. ...No, I've only just arrived, and I'm checking into a hotel about an hour out of town, but Joe will be there in time to intersect. ...Yes, I'm aware you think he's weird, but he's an amazing detective, and I'll partner with nobody else. ...Thank you. ...Goodbye." They arrived at the hotel room door, and E.J. hung up the phone and slipped Ian a twenty. "For your trouble... are you not wearing pants?"
Ian pulled the luggage up to the door, looked down at his silky red boxer shorts and repeated, "I'm not a bellhop."
"So you never wear pants behind the desk?"
"Trade secret," Ian said frankly, as he took the twenty dollar bill and made his way back down the hall.
----
The first thing E.J. saw when he entered the room was Mallory nudely laying face down on the bed next to a half eaten box of chocolate, and an empty wine bottle; a big, red "O" imprinted on her buttocks. The bathroom door was closed with the fan on, but he could still faintly smell what had happened to it wafting up from below. He considered himself a good paranormal detective, but he didn't even need to be a good regular detective to deduce the turn of events that took place in this hotel room.
He sat down next to her sleeping body and pulled out his laptop. As it booted up, he let his eyes get a little lost on her back, newly illuminated by the soft, white glow from the screen, marveling at the sheer amount of freckles that can accumulate on the human body. Her skin was like beige television static. The glow made her jet black hair look faintly blue, and he wondered if that was natural or if she dyes it that way.
Ping!
He got an email.
It was the files from the haunted house. E.J. popped some chocolate in his mouth and immediately pulled up a laundry list of internet tabs: he pulled up the address in satellite maps, a copy of the house's floor plan, city street plans, plumbing schematics, nearby businesses, local news reports, and local school attendance records. Finally, he switched back over to his email and wrote back:
"It's an old house with very large cavernous ventilation pipes running through the basement walls. There's an automated factory nearby that uses very large machinery that shuts down at nights on the weekends. Have him go back then and run the same tests. My theory is that there won't be any ghosts at nights on the weekends. If I'm right, the factory movement is rattling the vents at a low enough frequency to trigger the fear response in the human brain, and perhaps cause some hallucinations. Ultra low frequencies are usually the first thing I look for in a haunted house. That and whether or not it's just local youths playing pranks."
He closed the laptop and pulled out his cell phone to call Joe.
Ring! Ring!
"Hello?" Said Joe on the other end.
"Joe, it's E.J.. I'm at a hotel room about an hour from Port Teague."
"Sweet! I'm at a party."
"What? Why are you at a party? You're supposed to be intersecting with the U.F.O. to-night!"
"Relax, mon cher, the party is in Port Teague. It's at a port near the point of intersection!" Joe was already slurring a little, "Don't worry, man, I got this. I can have a little fun beforehand and slip away to meet up with the U.F.O., and nobody will wonder about me! It's like a cover story!"
"Fine. That's fine. Give me a call when you intersect."
Boop.
That last boop was E.J. ending the phone call; it made a boop noise.
----
"Did you really have to drag me along though?" Stu asked Melvin as they turned the corner, approaching the port from which Port Teague derives its name. "You know I hate being left out and all, but big parties aren't really my scene."
Melvin took a deep breath and said, "BecauseI'
"Woah woah! Slow down there, sir."
Melvin stopped, took another deep breath and said, "I'm going to ask Posie out. I need you here in case I crash and burn."
"You don't think she'll need some space? She JUST broke up with Manic."
"I know, I know, but I don't know if she needs space or not. And if she doesn't need space, I don't want to miss my window. I don't want to wait only for her to end up dating someone else, you know?"
"I guess that makes sense," Stu scratched his head. "I just don't want things to get weird between us all."
"Why would things get weird between us all?" Melvin answered, "This is between me and her."
"I guess so."
"So do you have any gay wisdom?"
"What?" Stu blinked hard at Melvin.
"You know. Like, relationship advice that gay people are always so good at giving!"
"Melvin, this isn't a Michael Cera movie. Homosexuals aren't magical sages here to bestow the perfect little nuggets of love life wisdom to straight people. I've never even been on a date."
"I see," Melvin wasn't paying attention. "There she is!"
Melvin spotted Posie across the party, dressed in a bee costume. The crowd had parted a straight path from him to her, as though a Party Moses lifted his staff just for the occasion.
He found himself moving forward towards her, in what felt like a slow motion gauntlet of contradictions. He talked himself into and back out of approaching her the whole way he approached her. His steps felt like he was wearing cement shoes, yet he couldn't stop his feet if he wanted to. His head was rushing like he was moving too quickly and wasn't ready, yet it felt like the journey (of about 15 feet) was taking an hour. By the time he arrived in front of her, he'd worked himself up hiccup fit.
"Oh Melvin! You made it!" Said Posie. She was way more comfortable than he was, which made him even less comfortable.
"Hey Posie! (hic) I like your bee costume. I (hic) didn't realize this was a costume party?"
"Oh, it's not," she answered. "I got to thinking, maybe Colin was right. Maybe I'm not ambitious enough. So I thought maybe I'd explore some career options. I'm thinking of becoming a pilot! That's why I'm dressed like this: to get inside the mind of a creature of flight!" She flapped her arms a couple times.
"And your (hic) first thought wasn't to dress like a bird?"
"Oh, well, I already had a bee costume."
"Okay, (hic) so (hic) why is she dressed like a flower then?" Melvin asked, pointing at Sasha, who was standing next to them at the refreshment table dressed like a flower.
"Mind your own business," replied Sasha, still dressed like a flower.
"Okay, I'm off the phone," said Joe, as he walked up to Sasha. "Sorry, I had to take that, it was from work. Who're they?" He pointed at Melvin and Posie.
Everyone introduced themselves.
"Hey Posie, can I (hic) ask you a question?" Melvin asked just then.
"Sure, what's up?"
"I (hic)... Um, excuse me (hic) AHEM," Melvin tried clearing his throat to get the hiccups away. When he pictured this moment earlier, he hadn't pictured having a hiccup fit, or an audience, or her being an insect at the time. It was like fighting against a current, but he managed to work the question out of his mouth anyways. "(hic) um.. so I was wondering (hic) if you'd maybe (hic) wanna (hic) go (hic) out for coffee with (hic) me (hic) sometime? (hic)"
Posie froze.
Finally, after a couple more tugs at the cord, the engine in her brain started running. She thought, in fact, far too many things at the same time, so that it seemed as though she was still frozen.
She thought, "Melvin wants to go on a date with me. Why does Melvin want to go on a date with me? Am I desirable? I'm still not over Colin. Can I even date another guy, if I'm still not over Colin? What would that look like? Would I move too quickly, trying to fit someone else in a Colin shaped hole? Will I not move quickly enough because I'm emotionally unavailable? Neither sounds terribly fair to Melvin. I wonder what he looks like with his shirt off though. Actually, I wonder what he looks like with his hat off. If I dated him, would he finally let me see under his hat? No, I can't date a guy just so I can see the top of his head. That's so dumb. And what if it doesn't work out? Could we stay friends if it didn't work out? Would his future wife hate me and not want me hanging out with him because I too saw him without his hat on? Stop thinking about his hat. OMG STOP STARING AT HIS HAT."
"Hello?" Sasha waved her hand in front of Posie's face. Posie finally blinked and shook herself out of her trance.
"Oh," she said. "I uh.. So I just broke up with Colin and um..." she struggled to articulate her thoughts. "I'm concerned I'm not really over him yet. And that it would not be fair to you."
"Oh," Said Melvin. His stomach was already all knotted up, but just then, it seemed to explode into his throat. "Alright, sure. Of course. Hey, I'll see you later then." And he walked off and away from the port.
"Well that was awkward," said Sasha, no longer dressed like a flower.
---
"Well that was a train wreck," Melvin told Stu, after the two had wandered away from the dock into the grass near the wooded area. The sun had gone down enough that the party had begun the fireworks show, and the friends were still close enough to see it.
"So she said no?" Stu asked.
"She said she wasn't over Manic yet. You were right, and I should've listened to you," Melvin hung his head low.
"Oh, well I was just being a pessimist. I could've been wrong," said Stu.
"I was such a mess, though! I was hiccupping the whole time, and there were people watching me, and she was a honey bee at the time for some reason."
"I noticed that about her."
"Why doesn't she like me? Why did she like Manic, but not me? I'm a good guy.. And it's not like he treated her that well. Is she super into crass callousness? Are girls just into buttheads? Why are girls always into buttheads, Stu?" Melvin was starting to get worked up.
"Hey now, just calm-"
"Those big, strong, ab-riddled buttheads, with their hair and teeth, how can I compete? With their motorcycles and their leather jackets and their handsome names like Trent or Dred or something, and they've got a tattoo of a snake on their hairy gorilla knuckles.. how can I compete with hairy snake knuckles, Stu?"
"Who are you even describing right now? Manic is a really nerdy person, and I don't see him as the tattoo type," Said Stu.
"They're always swooping in on their convertible motorcycles to take all the women out to makeout point, and then ditching them LIKE COWARDS cause the stupid radio comes on and there's a murderer with a hook hand on the loose!"
"Convertible motorcycles?"
"And where does that leave us, huh? Us nice guys, that have to sit there with the women afterwards listening to the sob story of how their mean, old, Arthur Fonzareli ripoff ex boyfriend ditched them at makeout point! And then they don't even appreciate the comfort we give them! They just run off with..." Melvin thought for a moment, "Hank!"
"Hank?" Stu was thoroughly confused.
"Hank from upstate Jersey! He's a district manager for something boring, like a museum of expired tax exempt policy paperwork! But he's super full of himself, and he's got katanas hanging above his fireplace that he SWEARS he knows how to use, and he walks around in his bathrobe and bunny slippers, and she loves him because he never pays attention to her!"
"Are these... are these stereotypes or real actual people you're describing? Are we still talking about Manic and Posie?"
"I could be a butthead like that if I wanted!" Melvin fumed. "I could be all abs and protein powders and 'whatevs' and 'get in the car'. And then I bet I'd get every girl, and then I'd probably treat them like dirt, because I'd resent them for falling for a jerk like me, and that would only make them love me more. I can't do that though, I'd never do that. I'm better than that. I guess I'll just DIE ALONE because I'm a good person." Melvin was just wallowing now. But then Stu punched him in the arm.
"Ouch! Why?" Melvin asked.
"Because you're hysterical!" Now Stu sounded a bit angry. "I can't tell if I'm supposed to pity you for being a societal victim, or applaud you for being a righteous moral hero! Look, man, you're my best friend and I've got your back no matter what. And it sucks you didn't get what you wanted. But it seems like you're trying to make yourself feel better by inventing a narrative that blames.. I don't know, society? Women? Jerky men? People groups, Melvin. You're blaming people groups for your troubles. Just like Adolf Hitler. When the truth is just that she didn't like you back, and she doesn't HAVE to like you back, she's not obligated... and that sucks for you, and you're sad about it."
Melvin sniffled a little.
"And I'll be here, cause I'm your friend. And I think probably Posie will too, if that's okay after to-night. And you ARE a good guy, and somebody eventually probably WILL like you back. On purpose. And that'll be so much better than trying to force things with Posie. And you'll be so happy that you'll look back and wonder why you were ever upset she said no."
Melvin wiped his nose on his sleeve, and he leaned in and whispered, "Michael Cera was right. Gay people have such magical love life advice."
Stu punched him in the arm again.
"Ouch! Hey, what's that?" Melvin and Stu looked up at the sky and saw something fly overhead and crash into the woods. It completely shook them out of the moment.
"Did no one else see that?" Melvin asked.
"I think everyone else is too close to the fireworks. It probably blended right in," Stu speculated.
"What was it? Should we go check it out?"
"Yes please."
And so Melvin and Stu ran toward the woods.
---
Melvin and Stu jogged through the woods, until they saw that the ground in front of them had a long, shallow welt. It was obvious something very heavy crashed there and continued sliding along the ground. Some of the bushes in its path had been totaled, and one tree trunk had the bark ripped off. They followed the divot until they came upon the object. The back end of it was outfitted with what was clearly supposed to be rocket propulsion, but the rest of it was smooth and rounded, and looked a little like polished marble. The top of it seemed to be glowing from the inside, giving the impression of one of those fish with transparent skin.
Then the top opened. The boys backed up, afraid of what might come out. What came out, seemed to be an ordinary person in an ordinary space suit. One head, two arms, etc. The astronaut spotted them, and everyone froze.
After a minute, the astronaut pulled the helmet off to reveal it was basically a human girl. Only, maybe a little smaller, with sky blue skin, paper white hair, and her ears were more angular, and instead of ordinary human pupils, the black parts of her eyes were in a spiral shape. So maybe not a human. She grinned really wide, made a gesture that looked like frantic waving, and said something in a foreign language that sounded like a cross between Korean and Swahili spoken with a thick Russian accent. The boys remained frozen.
After a minute of no response, the blue girl said something else, and climbed the rest of the way out of the marble fish rocket.
"What do we do?" Whispered Melvin. "Do we run away?"
"Is this an alien?" Whispered Stu. "Are we making first contact right now? Maybe we should let her know we meet her no harm?"
"How? Put our fingers up and flash her the peace signal? What if that means war on her planet, and she zaps us with her laser gun eyes?"
"We come in peace!" Stu said to the blue girl. She smiled at him and said something back in her own language.
"Smiling is pretty universal right?" Melvin whispered. "Wait, why am I whispering if she doesn't speak English?"
"Maybe smiling always means the same thing on every planet, maybe it doesn't, but everybody's gotta eat," Stu whispered back. He took a candy bar out of his pocket, broke off a piece and put it in his mouth to show it was edible, and offered the rest to the blue girl. She hesitated, but looked pleased to be offered. Then she took it, smelled it and took a tiny bite. Her eyes lit up, and so she took a bigger bite.
"We're taking her to your place," Stu whispered, then made a motioning gesture at the blue girl and said: "Come! Follow us!"
She seemed to understand; she closed the fish rocket behind her and followed the boys out of the woods.
--
Joe stumbled through the woods not long after, kicking himself for drinking too much and losing track of time.
"Oh, you are gorgeous!" He exclaimed excitedly when he spotted the fish rocket, which was no longer glowing. He snapped a couple photos with his phone and sent them to E.J., who called him immediately afterwards.
Joe answered, "Am I drunker than I think I am, or is this an authentic alien spaceship?"
"We'll have no way of knowing for sure if it's extra terrestrial in origin until we can get a better inspection," E.J. replied, though he also sounded a little scared and excited. "I've already secured a nearby vacant warehouse in town to set up a makeshift lab. Can you blockade the area until I get there? I'll be about an hour."
"Yes, but..." Joe closed one eye and tried to focus through his inebriated equilibrium dizziness on what he was looking at. "I think someone's been here."
"What do you mean?"
'Come on,' Joe thought to himself. 'You're a good detective. Sober up and figure this out. There's footprints in the dirt. Count them. Two coming, three going. One pair of tennis shoes, men, size 10, coming and going. One pair of steel toed boots, men, size 8, coming and going. What's this third pair? Unrecognizable make and model, like a heavy boot. Maybe a short, heavy man? No. It's a small person in a heavy outfit. That fits the gait and stride of the footprints better. Going, but not coming. Maybe a space suit?'
"E.J." Joe said into the phone. "I think this was a manned vessel. I think whatever drove this thing already left with two other people."
"You're kidding!" E.J. leaped off the bed causing Mallory to stir. "You're saying..."
"We've got some hunting to do. There's an alien in Port Teague."
---
Melvin's apartment was one large open space, except for the restroom. There was a bed in one corner, a kitchen in the other, a couch against the wall, a small table short enough to eat at while sitting on the floor, one tall fake plant of some kind, and an inexplicable load bearing wall in the middle, slightly in front of the kitchen area (at least it had an electrical outlet). The blue girl was sitting patiently on the bed while Stu and Melvin paced around the place discussing what to do.
"What do we do?" Asked Melvin.
"I don't know what to do," said Stu.
"I wonder what to do!" Exclaimed Melvin.
"I don't know what to do!" Bemoaned Stu.
They were getting nowhere.
The blue girl eventually stood up, and started making big, circular, wavy gestures with her hand and repeating "boosh!" Unsure of what that meant, they gave her an apple. Her face lit up with a big grin as she tasted the apple. When she finished, she started saying "boosh!" and making circular gestures again. So they dug out some cheese from the refrigerator. Again, her face lit up when she tasted it. And again she went back to saying "boosh!" At first, they had assumed "boosh" meant "food", so this went on for a little while. She seemed to enjoy tasting all the different earth foods; even when she clearly didn't like the taste of something, she smiled through it, and looked grateful. Eventually, however, when they offered her more to eat, she held her stomach and pushed the food back. Yet she continued making gestures and repeating "boosh!" They were at a loss. So was she, so she sat back down and waited some more.
"Do you think we should turn her in to the authorities?" Asked Stu.
"It does occur to me we might not be the most equipped people on the planet to deal with a space alien," Melvin concurred. "I can't even keep a plant alive."
"What about that tall one there?"
"That's a fake plant."
"Oh."
"Oh, hey, my brother's in town!" Melvin's brightened up. "We're supposed to have dinner at my parents' to-morrow!"
"E.J.? I haven't seen him in a long time."
"Yeah, he's a paranormal investigator! If anyone would know the protocol for a space alien landing it's E.J.!"
Stu scratched his head, "okay, you go to-morrow and ask him about it, I'll watch her here. Maybe get her a change of clothes that isn't this clunky space suit, and see if we can't establish some kind of communication."
"Sounds good to me! Oh, you know what we haven't tried yet?" Melvin asked.
"What's that?" Stu asked.
Melvin stepped a little closer to the blue girl, pointed to himself and said, "Melvin."
Stu caught on and did likewise. The blue girl picked up on it immediately. She pointed at Melvin and said "Malwin", and then she pointed at Stu and said "Shtu". She then pointed at herself and said "Sok'Annetezzxhka".
The boys blinked a couple times. Melvin said, "Sock? I heard Sock?"
The blue girl let out a hearty laugh, pointed at herself and said "Sok!"
"She laughs," said Stu. "She smiles, laughs, gestures and eats human food. All things considered, we're pretty lucky. It could have been an eternally hungry blob that eats all our oceans."
"Oh shoot, I forgot I also have work in the morning," said Melvin, palming his forehead.
"So you need me to be here with her all day to-morrow, then?" Stu asked. "That's fine, I was gonna be here anyways."
"Shtu. Malwin," Practiced Sok, trying to wrap her mouth around the words.
"Are you sure you'll be okay here by yourself?"
"Are you kidding?" Stu smiled. "This is a space alien! We might go down in history. There's no way I'm missing this opportunity to learn more about her. I want to learn about where she comes from and what life is like elsewhere in the universe! This is what the word 'exotic' was made for! Anyways, if I bit off more than I can chew, maybe Posie can help me-"
"No!" Shouted Melvin. "Don't invite Posie over here! Don't tell her about Sok! I don't want to see her over here right now or forever!"
Stu scratched his head, "Wow. Okay, yeah, sure. You're right, things definitely haven't gotten weird between us all."
"Just... please. Okay?" Pleaded Melvin.
"Yeah yeah, I understand." Consented Stu.
"Boosh," whispered Sok.
---
Posie Pillow sat at the waterfront the next morning holding a warm coffee to-go cup and staring into her reflection in the water. After Melvin disappeared from the party, he stopped answering his phone. Stu wasn't answering either, and he never even showed up at the party, as far as she knew. She felt very alone, and the shrouded darkness beneath the surface of the water was drawing her brain deeper into a contemplative funk. She lamented losing Manic, and blamed herself for "not being ambitious enough". And now she seems to have lost her only friends because she didn't want to date Melvin. The closest thing she had to a female friend she might've talked to about things like this was Nick, who had long since been presumed dead. Her absence during a time of need, and the further grievance brought on by the memory that she was gone, certainly didn't help her feel less alone right at that moment.
'Well', she thought, 'I didn't actually SAY I didn't want to date Melvin.'
She didn't say she did either.
'In fact', she lamented, 'I don't know what decision I'd make if I had the chance. I can't remember the last time I'd made an important decision. Is that my problem? Do I suck at making decisions because I don't have a solid ambition to base them off of? Or am I not ambitious because I suck at making decisions?'
The longer she sat there drinking her coffee and staring at herself, the worse and more self-abusive her thoughts became.
'I thought you had a mind of your own?' She badgered herself. 'There are all these strong independent women out there, fighting for your right to vote, and for equal opportunity in the workplace, and you're going to squander it because you can't form an opinion of your own!'
The water was relatively still, and she was remaining silent, but her head was so noisy it was almost violent.
'Maybe you'd still have friends if you weren't such a sheep!'
That last thought was so loud in her mind, it snapped her out of her trance. All was suddenly very quiet. She looked around at the river, and at the trees, and the housetops. She heard the morning birds chirping, and she smelled her coffee.
"Wow," she said out loud. "I wouldn't let someone else say that stuff to me. Why am I saying it to myself? That stops now."
She finished her coffee and jumped into the river.
---
Stu had slept over on Melvin's floor the previous night, and made breakfast for the three of them by the light of the morning sun through the apartment's single window (Sok loved omelets, they learned). After they shook the cobwebs from their heads, Sok tried to get them to understand "boosh" a few more times, then tried to leave the apartment. They stopped her, and tried their best to explain that it was dangerous to go out alone. She wasn't understanding, and was frustrated, but complied.
She went over to her space suit, pulled a small piece of detachable metal from the side of the boot and began using it to unscrew other parts of the suit. She didn't seem to be afraid of anything; not of them, not of the landscape, not of the foliage, or the river, or the cars with the loud engines, or even of eating strange food from a foreign planet she might not be able to digest. She met it all with awestruck wonder and gladness. That could have been for any number of reasons, but the two reasons the boys were most afraid of were either that she was oblivious to how dangerous the planet earth actually was for a visiting space alien, or else that she was herself a bigger threat and she knew it.
There were all kinds of factors and variables they hadn't considered when bringing an extra-terrestrial into their home, and the more these things occurred to them, the more woefully inadequate to the tasks at hand they felt. Melvin doubled down on his conviction to pass her off to his brother that evening, but nevertheless felt comfortable going to work, leaving Stu alone with her. If she was terribly dangerous, she at the very least showed zero signs of being hostile. She behaved, in fact, like a very polite and grateful guest.
After Melvin left, Stu perused his bookshelf in vain hope he had any picture books that might help him bridge the language barrier. The closest thing he found were Superman comics. He ended up pulling out his cell phone and searching for pictures of common, important things that might come up (like "food" or "water" or "toilet"), with the written words underneath. Sok caught on to what was happening, and distractedly repeated the words back to him, but didn't stop working on her suit. Stu pressed on with his vocabulary lessons while she worked, the both of them periodically taking snack breaks. After last nights awkward lessons of how to operate human clothing (so she wouldn't have to sleep in the space suit), and the functions of a human bathroom, she was relatively low maintenance, and did not try to leave a second time.
After a few hours, she had cobbled together two small oddly shaped objects with little hooks, and fitted them into her ears. They didn't fit right, so she made adjustments until they did. She then took them over to the book shelf and started using them to flash light on the pages of some of the books.
"Are you scanning the books?" Stu asked, surprised and interested.
"Shtu," She smiled adorably and pointed at him.
It occurred to him she might be a little better prepared for first contact than he was.
----
Mr. and Mrs. Hemingway had set a traditional dinner table for their sons' visit, which struck Melvin and E.J. as unusual, as they had not been a dinner table family before then. It was complete with a tablecloth and place settings; a pot of potato soup was sitting on top of an oven mitt in the middle of the table next to a vase with a peculiar arrangement of marigolds and pot leaves.
"So E.J.," Mrs. Hemingway started, slurping soup out of a glass pipe. "Tell me, what is it that you're back in town for again? Ghosts? Werewolves?"
"Maybe he's finally here to exorcise the demon out of Mr. Thane," Suggested Mr. Hemingway, sipping black coffee out of a bong.
"I can't exorcise demons, I'm not a priest," replied E.J., patiently. "Besides that, I haven't actually run across any legitimate demons. Most often, they turn out to be mental health issues. Schizophrenia, or bipolar mania, or dissociative identity disorder, that kind of thing."
"When I was younger," said Mr. Hemingway. "My friends and I snuck into his house and saw him move the furniture with his mind. The lights were flickering and everything."
"Were you stoned at the time?" E.J. asked.
Mr. Hemingway was about to light up a joint, but then pulled it back out of his mouth and quickly stuffed the lighter back in his pocket, "that's besides the point."
"I'm here for an alien, as a matter of fact. The real deal this time," E.J. smirked.
Melvin's ears perked up. He already knew??
"Oh here we go with the aliens again," Mrs. Hemingway threw her hands up like she was surrendering, when she clearly wasn't. "Look, son, I know you think an alien killed your high school sweetheart. I know that's why you're prancing around the country looking for answers, but you have to let it go, son. You're such a smart boy, such aptitude, and this paranormal detective thing, it's... it's kind of embarrassing."
E.J. adjusted his goggles on his nose, and continued eating silently. He decided against mentioning he already had the spaceship sitting in a nearby warehouse, largely because he and Joe had not yet figured out how to open it.
Mr. Hemingway broke the silence, "When are we going to meet Mallory? We've heard so little about her."
"You aren't," Said E.J. coldly.
"Who's Mallory?" Asked Melvin.
"Oh, it's the new young lady in his life," smiled Mrs. Hemingway. "I had to pry that much out of him over the phone, but he's so secretive these days. It's like he thinks we'll scare her off or something."
"It's not that," E.J. continued slurping his soup. "We're not that serious, and she's not that friendly."
"Why would you date someone who isn't friendly?" Pressed Mr. Hemingway.
"We have a lot in common," E.J. replied.
"Hey, so what will you do with an alien when you find one?" Melvin changed the subject.
"Study it," said E.J.
"How?"
"Well, I can't really get into the details. But I mean, they're a pretty high potential threat, right? An alien is like a giant question mark, in terms of what we know about it. We'll have to perform quite a lot of necessary experiments to find out how it ticks, and what it's like biologically. After we've got enough data on its behavior, we'll have to cut it open and get a closer look under a microscope. Bottom line is, we need to find its kill button as soon as we possibly can, in case we need it."
Melvin's eyes nearly popped out of his head, "You'd kill it? What if it's benevolent?"
"We can't assume that," E.J. replied casually, sipping his soup. "If there's a chance it's hostile, or that there are more coming, and they might be hostile, we have to treat it as a certainty. Making sure the planet is safe and protected should be priority number one."
Melvin pressed forward, "but what if, hypothetically speaking, it's humanoid? And nice?"
"First of all, that's highly unlikely. It's a pretty vast universe with all kinds of planets and conditions for life to evolve on. The odds of another species evolving to be intelligent enough to rocket themselves here AND they happen to be bipedal mammals? I'm pretty sure the science fiction shows only visit that trope so often to save money on makeup and special effects."
Melvin sank into his chair, "But hypothetically."
E.J. thought for a minute, "Well... I don't think it would change anything. The alien that attacked my car in high school was humanoid. And anyways, humans are humanoid, and we've never had trouble coming up with excuses to commit atrocities. We still have to follow protocol."
"Wait, why do you think humanoid aliens are so unlikely if you also think a humanoid alien attacked your car in high school?"
"it's called cognitive dissonance, Melvin. We all have it, get used to it."
"Wait, why do you think humanoid aliens are so unlikely if you also think a humanoid alien attacked your car in high school?"
"it's called cognitive dissonance, Melvin. We all have it, get used to it."
"What if you could just talk to her-er.. it?" Melvin asked.
"Again, the chances of compatible languages are slim. And even then, we can't assume they're honest."
"Listen to the two of you talk like there's even really aliens among us," laughed Mrs. Hemingway. "If you ask me, the first thing we should be doing if an alien comes to visit is give it a pot brownie."
Mr. Hemingway busted out laughing, then did his best impression of a movie narrator, "In the end, it wasn't guns or bombs that stopped the alien invasion. But rather it was the humblest of all God's creatures: the marijuana plant."
Melvin was getting a little too squirmy. "Hey I better get going," he said. "I've gotta..." He couldn't think of an excuse.
Mrs. Hemingway interrupted anyways, "Hey, but we haven't gotten to grill you yet! We spent so much time on E.J.'s career and new girlfriend, we haven't even pestered you about college!"
"Oh, I'm fine at the ice cream parlor for awhile," Melvin insisted. "Actually, that's why I've got to go. I'm up for a promotion to... uh... chocolate. I've been stuck on vanilla all summer. Chocolate's more complicated, so I have to go home and study for the... chocolate ice cream exam." He didn't sound very convincing.
"Wait, are you MAKING the ice cream? I thought you were just scooping it for customers?" Mr. Hemingway asked.
"Yes," replied Melvin, already halfway out the door, shoving his arms into his jacket. "Scooping chocolate is more complicated. Tootles!" And he was gone.
-----
Posie walked slowly down the street, leaving puddles behind her that glistened with the light from the streetlamps. Her polyester tank top was soaking wet with river water, just as her mind was sopping wet with angst, and she regretted wearing both. 'Perhaps,' she thought. 'If I'm going to be swimming by myself all summer, I should invest in a swimsuit. Or at least a scuba suit and a snorkel.'
She let out a heavy sigh. 'Is that really what I'm going to be doing the summer after I've graduated? All I wanted to do was spend time with my friends and enjoy the twilight before we had to face adulthood. I wanted to drive around, and go camping, and have picnics on other people's roofs. Rooves? Is the plural for roof rooves? Oh, who cares, everything is badly. My life is nothing but loneliness and drama.'
Her internal spiraling was interrupted by Melvin jogging by on the way back to his apartment. "Melvin!" She called.
He noticed her and avoided eye contact for a second, but then changed his mind and said, "oh hi" and hoped the tone of it wouldn't betray his discomfort.
"Hey, I haven't been able to get ahold of you guys," Posie started. But Melvin wasn't slowing his pace, and he jogged by.
"Hey, I can't stop, I'm terribly busy! I'm sorry, goodbye!" he said as he passed.
"Melvin! Hey!" She kept calling. "I'm sorry!"
"I'm sorry," she said quieter, after he'd already disappeared around a corner.
She turned back around, dejected, wiped some river water from her forehead and continued sauntering down the sidewalk. 'Get ahold of yourself, you sad sack,' said her brain. 'Stop being a wallowing piece of human garbage. If they don't want to be your friends anymore, go make new ones. How's that for an ambition?'
---
Stu and Sok were eating a plate of little artisan cheeses, meats, and crackers when Melvin came through the door, a little out of breath.
"Are you okay?" Stu asked him.
"Malwin!" Sok greeted him.
"I ran into Posie," Melvin explained. "She was drenched."
"Did she say why?" Asked Stu.
"No, I didn't stop to ask. I just kind of jogged past her."
"Are you always gonna jog past her?"
"I think I hate her."
"Melvin," Stu sighed and got up from the table to meet him by the door. "How can you hate her? We've been best friends, the three of us, since grade school. You practically fell in love with her, until yesterday. You're just mad at her. And it's not even her fault. And it's not your fault either. Hopefully it passes soon. Because I've been ignoring her texts and it's KILLING me."
Melvin thought for a minute, "Yeah, I know, I hate her so much because I love her. Whatever."
"Where's E.J.? Is he going to come take a look at Sok?" Stu asked.
"NO." Melvin declared forcefully as he paced further into the room.
"Okay. Why not?"
"Because the protocol for discovering an alien doesn't involve keeping them alive."
"What?" Stu sat down on the bed.
Sok, all the while was watching snacking on cheeses, and watching their conversation with interest. She couldn't understand what they were saying, but she saw that Melvin was distressed. Melvin relayed the events of his family's dinner to Stu, and all that E.J. had said.
"I see," said Stu when he'd finished. "That's disappointing. I can't believe I forgot he thinks an alien killed Nick. It sounds like he might be a little vengeful. So what do we do now?"
"Well, he knows there's an alien here. We can't let him find her. Maybe we lay low for awhile? Maybe he'll have give up?" Melvin suggested.
"Do you think he will?" Stu asked.
"I don't know how his paychecks work. Maybe he'll have to give up and go elsewhere to make some money? I don't know. We just need to lay low until we think of a long term solution. It might just be that we need to make Sok fly back to where she came from to keep her safe."
They both looked at Sok sadly. She looked back at them quizzically.
"Boosh," She said. They still didn't understand what boosh meant. It was worth a try.
---
"But we REALLY need the extra funding this time," said E.J. into the phone.
He was pacing along the front wall of the warehouse where they brought the fish rocket. Joe was hunkered over the rocket with a stethoscope listening to one area, then the next, hoping to hear if anything was happening inside. Mallory was standing along the side of the room next to a table with her bunsen, her beakers, and her microscope, listening to one side of E.J.'s argument.
"This is a little more involved than our usual cases," he continued. "You got the pictures, right? We're ninety percent sure this isn't a hoax this time... Well this is a real alien space craft! And we're down here with a children's chemistry set, and Joe's over here listening to it for a heartbeat! ...Yeah, but we need to do more that just identify that it's a metal, we need the tools to find out what kind and where it came from! ...And what about the tools to scan the insides? It's not like we can just smash it open, we have no idea how it works, and it could damage the integrity of the mechanics of... Well, I mean yeah, of course we don't normally need that kind of budget. Normally our alien cases are bored farm kids making crop circles, or some schmuck with a bad case of sleep paralysis who's convinced he's getting abducted on the regular! An actual space craft is a little unprecedented for us, but that doesn't mean... yes sir. I understand." He hung up.
"I take it we're not getting the money?" Mallory asked, already knowing the answer.
"It's kind of a miracle we're government funded to begin with," sighed E.J.
"You know, if this were happening on a television show, this place would be swarming with C.I.A. agents or something," she groaned. "Big floodlights, people with big rubber gloves taking samples for me to examine on a top of the line digital machine that can tell me the precise atomic makeup.."
"Be happy they're not," E.J. interrupted Mallory's brooding. "We wouldn't likely still be here taking the case. We're not exactly taken seriously as an agency. They just see us as the specialists who're willing to deal with the nutters. If they had any real interest in alien activity, and they were organized enough to do anything about it, the three of us wouldn't be kept in charge of the situation. ...what are you doing?" He asked Joe, who was pacing around the fish rocket throwing a yo-yo up and down on its string.
"I'm checking to see if it has any artificial gravity," he responded.
"You are so strange," scoffed Mallory.
"Scoff all you want, Mallory, but sometimes the best tools aren't the expensive ones," Joe coolly replied, crouching down to look into the conical cylinders attached to the back end.
"If one of your dollar store toys can open this UFO, I won't complain," E.J. said.
"It's not rocket science," said Joe.
"It's an alien spacecraft," Mallory scoffed once more. "It's not just rocket science, it's like rocket science's buff, jealous, exotic boyfriend."
"No, it's not, it's door science," said Joe, still crouched behind the back end of the fish rocket. He felt around underneath until his fingers ran across a small bump. It felt like a tent of rubber was covering up a protrusion. He pressed on it and was rewarded with a satisfying click. The fish rocket glowed from the inside, followed by a hissing sound as the top popped open like a car hood; enough for someone to get their fingers in the cracks. After a moment of silence, E.J., Joe and Mallory all scrambled to lift the top up.
The inside of the fish rocket was almost unassuming. There was a leather looking seat, and some lights that seemed to glow like Christmas decorations inside the deceptively translucent walls. E.J. climbed into the seat to get a closer look. "Touch one!" Joe suggested excitedly.
"Touch one what?" E.J. asked.
"One of the lights!"
E.J. hesitated, but brought his finger up to the wall and touched his finger where a green light was glowing. The lights all flickered off, and the wall lit up with symbols they didn't recognize; vertical lines of various lengths with swooshes, curls, and dots coming off of both directions. Some of the lines had circles at the bottoms of them. The curls were always attached to the lines, and the dots were always in a sequence parallel to the curls.
"Is this an alien language?" Joe gasped, astonished.
"I have no idea," E.J. replied, also astonished, but trying to keep his cool. He continued, "It could be a written language, but it could also be a graphical representation of how they coded this thing. Until we know for sure, it might be less dangerous if we stopped pressing buttons and got a specialist in here to decrypt it for us. A linguist, or a philologist or someone. I don't want to accidentally launch myself into a wall."
"So what, we're just gonna sit here twiddling our thumbs and toes, waiting for some new schmuck we don't even know? That could take weeks!" Mallory complained.
"Of course not," E.J. climbed out of the rocket. "Whatever hideous abomination piloted this thing is still crawling around somewhere, and they couldn't have gotten far unnoticed. We're detectives. It's time to do what we do best: detect."
"Hooray for hunting aliens!" Exclaimed Joe gleefully.
---
The little brass bell clanged above the door at the Hummingbird Café as Posie stepped through it. She wondered to herself silently why all the businesses in Port Teague used little brass bells on their doors. Is brass really the best kind of bell for that? She stepped around the corner and looked at the wall, which had a collage of pictures "in loving memory of Nicole Thom". Her mom owned the Hummingbird. Posie hadn't been there in a long time, but she'd seen the collage before; class photos, sports team photos, candid shots from parties and selfies with E.J. mostly. But her eyes wandered nearly immediately to the photo she herself was in. It was a group shot at a picnic table with the river in the background, and everyone was holding their bottles of root beer up and making goofy faces. Nick was standing on top of the table with E.J.. Melvin, Stu, Manic and her were sitting down in front of them on the bench. The nostalgia of it got all balled up in her chest, and she had to stop looking at it. How strong could her bonds with the people in that photo have possibly been all this time?
She turned around and spotted a gaggle of about four girls she went to school with, sitting at one of the café tables with fancy coffees and little pastries. She recognized two of them, Kim and Kelly. She remembered she used to call them friends years and years ago. She was never quite as close with them as she felt she was with Melvin and Stu, but they did play together at recess sometimes. She recalled the three of them had a sleepover once at Kelly's, and they were walking down the street at Sundown when a very large dog started barking at them. The two girls looked very frightened and shouted "RUN!" and all three of them booked it as fast as they could down the block. At the end of it, out of breath, the two girls started laughing at Posie. Evidently, they already knew that dog couldn't escape the yard, and decided it would be funny to scare her. She wasn't happy about it at the time. In hindsight, she thought, perhaps playing a silly prank on her doesn't necessarily mean they didn't LIKE her.
The gaggle of girls at the table were gabbing about something inane. 'I would also like to gab about something inane,' Posie thought. 'If that's what girls do. I don't know why I ended up being friends with only boys anyways. Maybe girls are less drama.'
She ordered a coffee, then approached them, "hey, mind if I join you?"
They all stopped talking and looked at each other. Kelly finally awkwardly said, "um, sure. I suppose."
"Great! Thanks! What were we talking about?" Posie asked, pulling up a chair from an adjacent table.
"Oh, uh... nothing," they avoided eye contact with her and with each other.
The uncomfortable silence did not register with Posie, and she pressed on with the small talk, "well, what's new then?"
Kim responded, "well, we were talking about what classes we'd need to register into for our majors, and then we were talking about how none of us are looking forward to college math."
"It's the worst," said one of the other girls, whose name Posie did not know.
"You're probably pretty good at it, right?" Asked Kelly. "I assumed, because you're dating Manic."
"Oh, no, we broke up," Posie corrected. "And I was never really that great at math. That was always his thing. But if you're into math, maybe you have an opinion on why there's so much confusion about angular velocity?"
"What?" Kelly asked, while the rest of them stared blankly.
"Well, I mean.. Velocity is defined by a vector, in that it has direction and magnitude. It can thus be expressed as a line on a graph, with length and slope. But the graphical equation for a circle is (x-h)^2 + (y-k)^2 = r^2. Motion in a circle is curved - which implies exponents, meaning it *cannot* be expressed simply as a line with direction and magnitude. It is velocity which is constantly changing; and changing velocity is, by definition, acceleration. I feel like that gets overlooked. What do you guys think?"
They stared at her for a minute, completely lost.
"Yeah! That sounds good," said Kim. "WELL, I suppose we'd better be going. We've all got a uh... thing that we gotta do. You wouldn't really be interested. See you later though!" And the four of them left the diner, leaving Posie alone at the table.
Even she knew she'd been ditched. 'Foolish old girl," she thought. 'Why did you bring up the velocity thing? You don't even care about velocity! Nobody cares about velocity! You've definitely spent too much time with Manic. You can't just talk about velocity with people, you have to stick to casual algebra! Everyone knows that! Stupid, stupid STUPID.'
"Posie Pillow?" An old woman approached her, holding two paper to-go cups with tea bags hanging out the side. "I thought I recognized you!"
"Mrs. Yokel?" Posie recognized her old piano teacher from when she was a little girl. "Hey! I almost didn't recognize you, it's been so long!"
"Well butter my biscuit and call me biscuit!" Mrs. Yokel smiled. "You've gotten so tall! Still adorable as ever I see. I love the scuba suit and snorkel you're rocking! You can just call me Ingrid, by the way, we're all grownups now. Ask anyone!"
"Aww thank you," she blushed. "I promise I was going to go swimming later, I didn't just put this scuba suit on for coffee."
"Are you doing anything right now? I'm taking these teas to my house, we're only about three houses down. You should come with me and say hi to Olaf!"
Olaf Yokel, she recalled, was Ingrid Yokel's husband.
"I'd love to," she smiled, and picked her coffee up to follow her
---
Posie sat on a white couch across the living room from Ingrid and Olaf at their abode as they sipped from their respective morning warm beverages. The house always had a nautical theme to it; very clean looking, with white paint and light blue trimmings, decorated with wooden boat wheels, and seashells, and anchors, and rope. The fireplace next to the piano had several little ships in bottles resting on the top, under a wooden sign that said "life's a beach." In one corner was a collection of Christian iconography; pictures of Jesus and various saints painted on blocks of wood.
"I couldn't help but notice your friends weren't very nice to you at the café?" Ingrid pried.
Posie shifted in her seat nervously, "Ah, well, they weren't really my friends. I guess.. I guess I was trying to make friends."
"Oh I see. With them though?"
"Yeah, but obviously I'm not very good at it. It doesn't seem like I'm very likeable," she ho-hummed.
"Why would you say that?" Asked Olaf.
"Because I don't have any friends. I mean, I HAD some friends. Not a lot of them. I guess my company wasn't really compelling enough for them to want to stick around anymore."
Ingrid and Olaf looked at each other.
Ingrid pressed, "my dear. Do you believe your friends no longer enjoy your company? Did they say so?"
"Well no...."
"Do you enjoy your own company?"
"No, I really don't. I'd kinda like to be someone else for a change. Someone who knows what they're doing, and where they're going in life."
"Oh dear," Ingrid put her tea down on the coffee table. "That is serious."
Olaf sat up and ran his thumbs under his suspender straps, "It seems to me, you've got a case of logismoi."
Ingrid nodded.
"What's that?" Posie asked.
"Logismoi, my dear. Little devils. Nasty little whisperin's in your ears."
Ingrid nodded again, "They're like little bullets in the brain. Usually temptations, or resentments, or other nasty little thoughts about other people. But sometimes it's self-directed, like a depression, or thoughts of hopelessness. These toxic little thoughts that you can't seem to stop thinking, because they don't rightly belong to you, dear. You aren't thinking them yourself, they're thoughts that happen to you."
Posie put her coffee down on the coffee table, "you think I have depression?"
"Well, I don't know that I'd go that far," Olaf backpedaled.
"We're not psychologists, dear," Ingrid nodded. "But it doesn't sound like a little healthy humility."
Olaf continued, "it could be any number of things. Could be bad brain chemistry, could be poor digestion, or a bad diet, could be literal little devils, Lord have mercy! It's all the same lookin' comin' out."
"Worst thing to do is give them the time of day, dear," Ingrid picked up. "Remember they're not your thoughts, and you don't owe them a conversation. Get in the habit of ignoring them, and thinking of good things. Taking the time to stop and look at these little bullets is how you get hurt by them."
"There ain't nothin' wrong with a quick prayer if you need it," Olaf pointed at a portrait of Jesus in the corner, a really spooky one where the left half of the face didn't quite match the right; like the right side of Jesus was angrier. "Doesn't have to be fancy. 'Lord, have mercy' does me just fine while I'm out and about in public."
"Lord have mercy?" Posie asked. "Sounds like you think I should beg for a reprieve. You know, my folks took me to church when I was younger, and I don't remember anyone ever begging for mercy."
"Oh well," Olaf scratched his chin and thought for a moment. "It's a truncated version of an old prayer from 5th century desert fathers and desert mothers: 'Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.'"
Posie sipped at her coffee, but was aggressively gnawing on the word 'mercy'.
"Say," Ingrid changed the subject. "Why don't you play us a tune on the piano, dear? You still play, right?"
Posie became so disarmed she let out a legitimate laugh; her first honest laugh in days. She remembered when she'd taken piano lessons here all those years ago, she thought the Yokels were pretty dorky. Here, seeing them again as an adult - still loosely the same jolly old couple, unabashedly referencing their religion while sipping tea in a beach house miles away from any coast whatsoever, randomly deciding it was time to break into song - they hardly seemed less dorky. But they were happy, and unconcerned about appearance, and Posie found it infectious.
"I haven't in a couple years," Posie said thoughtfully. "But I think I can still hammer out a couple tunes." For the next few hours, until lunchtime, the three of them played and sang old campy folk songs (very poorly).
---
Stu spent most of the morning watching Sok scan Melvin's books. Periodically, he would get bored and start watching videos on his phone. He'd backed off a bit on the vocabulary lessons under the assumption that her scanning the books like that was her own way of sorting out the language barrier.
At one point, she stopped scanning and pointed the earpiece at the wall, and it projected a series of strange symbols on it; vertical lines with swooshes and hooks and dots. Stu paused his video and waited expectantly for something interesting to happen. Was this her language? Was she going to start communicating with him soon? She looked mesmerized by it for a bit, then she turned the projection off and went back to scanning. Stu sighed and went back to looking at his phone.
It rang. The caller I.D. said "Posie Pillow". His finger momentarily hung over the "answer" button. He grimaced, rejected the call, and tried to put it out of his head.
'Maybe there's something to what E.J. was saying,' Stu thought, trying to distract himself. 'Out of all the things an alien could have been, it's exceedingly unlikely she would be more or less a human. It's as though her planet went through all the exact same evolutionary steps to create mammals, and then again all the same steps to get primates, and then again all the same steps to get reason and language and technology. It's astonishing! You'd think there's be more that's biologically different, like gills, or different numbers of limbs, or feet for heads. But no, everything's the same: five fingers and toes, opposable thumbs, two eyes, one nose, mouth, elbows, hair, eyelashes... only the color is really so different that you couldn't find someone like her here on earth. Just barely enough to prove she's not really human. But what does it all mean? How could that have possibly happened? And how in this vast universe did she find us?'
He kept watching her, studying her appearance and movements; trying to spot the differences and counting the similarities.
His phone rang again.
It was Posie again.
He rejected it again.
Sok suddenly stopped scanning and said something into her earpiece. She then projected onto the wall, in a font fairly similar to Tahoma, in perfect English: "welcome sunrise".
She grinned from ear to ear, looking expectedly back and forth between the wall and Stu.
"Welcome sunrise," he read.
"Welcome sunrise," the earpiece repeated.
"Elcum shunrysh," Sok attempted to repeat. Then she thought for a second and tried again, trying to land the W sound: "W-w-WELcome Shunrysh." She grinned.
"Good morning?" Stu guessed out loud.
Sok bounced a little, and waved at Stu trying to grab his attention. She bent down and said "boosh" into the earpiece. When she pointed it at the wall, it projected the word "boosh" in Tahoma font.
"Boosh," Stu read, pointed at the wall, looking as confused as possible at her.
Her face sank. She tried again, but it still just said "boosh" on the wall.
She said something else into the earpiece and translated it onto the wall: "you to have no word meaning boosh. You to have boosh however. I will to continue to look."
"I have boosh?" Stu asked, still confused.
She sat down and continued scanning the books.
"What do I have?" Stu wondered out loud to himself, confused, but excited that the language barrier was beginning to fall.
His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of something hitting the window with a "THUD". He thought it was a bird or something, but then he heard the "THUD" again. He watched the window this time, and saw a yellow tennis ball "THUD" against the window a third time. He went to look out, but so did Sok, so he had to stop her and shoo her back to the books so no one would see her.
It was Posie, standing at the bottom of the building in the parking lot, tossing a tennis ball up to the window. Stu couldn't help but smile, but the smile quickly faded when he remembered everything he still had to hide from her. 'Pull yourself together Stu,' he thought. He motioned out the window that he was coming down, then he did his best to impress upon Sok that she should stay put and wait for him to come back up.
---
"Posie! You have no idea how good it is to see you!" Stu greeted her as he exited the building's front door, arms extended and ready for a great big hug. "How have you been?"
"Don't try to butter my biscuit, you hooligan," she chastised. "Why haven't you been answering your phone? I was beginning to think you hated me."
"Oh no!" Stu's heart broke a little. "Never that, Posie! I could never hate you. I've just been really busy is all. Melvin's not here, by the way."
"I was looking for you. I figured Melvin would be at work, and I saw your bike here."
"Oh! I thought maybe you came by to wish him luck on his chocolate ice cream test."
"He's getting promoted to chocolate?? That's so much more complex than vanilla! That's a big deal!"
"Yes, I'm very proud of him," said Stu. "And I'm proud of you too!"
"Oh stop," Posie blushed. "There's nothing to be proud of me about."
"Of course there is," Stu replied. "You graduated high school, and you survived your first big break up, and you're really rocking that scuba suit and snorkel!"
"Okay, really stop trying to butter my biscuit now. It's getting weird."
"I just missed you, girl," Stu said defensively. "It's like I've got a clogged well stream of encouragement and love, and now it's overflowing out of my mouth. Like a volcano eruption of good vibes! Just let that lava of love uplift you."
"I've missed you too! But what have you been so busy with that you can't pick up the phone?" She pressed.
Stu sighed, "You got me. I'm so sorry. I HATED not answering your phone calls. But you know I suck at keeping secrets, and Melvin's pretty insistent that it's no one's business, including yours."
Posie's heart sank a little, "Oh." She looked down at her toes. "Melvin's still mad at me, huh?"
"Oh, no no no, of course not!" Stu replied. "Well, maybe he is. But it's not your fault."
"How is it not my fault?" Posie crossed her arms.
"I don't know," Said Stu. "It's just the nature of one-sided attraction, I think. Someone's gotta be the bad guy."
"Oh, well, I didn't mean to imply that I-"
"No, it's alright," Stu stopped her. "You're not the bad guy, that's not what I meant. I just meant that... um.." he was starting to flounder. "He needs to realize... that it's worse... uh... to be in a relationship with someone who.... doesn't like you back."
"Well, I dunno. I like Melvin fine."
"You do?" Stu folded his arms.
"Well, I mean, not like... Just, everything changed so suddenly, and it all went to crap. I just want things to go back to normal."
"Oh," Stu replied. "Yeah, me too. Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Posie replied.
"I thought I heard something in the bushes," Stu looked around. "Huh. Nevermind, it's gone now, whatever it was."
"I guess I'd better get going. I've been wearing this scuba suit all day, cause I was gonna go swimming, but then I never got around to it."
"Do you want to take my bike? I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," Stu offered.
"Oh, no thanks, I hate bikes."
"You... hate bikes? How can you hate bikes? They're super green for the environment! And they look hella sexy with a scuba suit and snorkel!" Stu challenged.
"Because they're annoying," Posie answered. "They're annoying when I'm walking on the sidewalk and they come zooming up behind me like a ninja. They're annoying when I'm driving, and they're going real slow in front of me. And they're annoying when someone with a bike tries to get on the bus, and then has to take their sweet time loading it onto the front rack, and it's like we could've started driving again by now. And then there was this one time, I was on the metro in the city, and a bunch of bikers brought their bikes into the standing space, and I had a tire in my face for half the ride. That's four modes of transportation bikes have annoyed me on. That's not a very good track record, Stu."
Posie was indignant by the end of the rant.
Stu blinked, "do you know how to ride a bike, Posie?"
"No I do not."
Stu started singing one line from that song by Queen about the bicycle race to her, first quietly, then progressively louder.
"Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle, I want to ride my-"
"Stop. They're annoying."
"Bicycle, bicycle, BICYCLE I WANT TO RIDE MY-"
"Keep your bike, dude."
"BICYCLE BICYCLE BI-"
"Bye."
"-CY-"
"I'm leaving."
"-CLE-"
"Toodles!"
"RACE!"
"I hate you." She groaned.
"I love you!" He smiled.
----
----
Stu floated up the stairs, pleased to have finally cleared the air. But a rock hit his lungs when he walked back through the front door.
"Dump," he whispered to himself, looking around the empty apartment.
"Dump!" He shouted louder, pacing farther in, trying to gauge if perhaps Sok was merely hiding somewhere, unseen under a blanket, or crouched behind the bed.
"DOOKIE DIAPER DUMP!" Stu shouted really quite loudly into the empty bathroom.
He thought he heard something in the bushes.
His hands shook as he pulled out his phone and dialed Melvin's work number.
"Hello?" Melvin said after his coworker handed him the phone.
"Hey, man, I didn't interrupt your chocolate test, did I?" Stu asked meekly.
"What? No, I... that's not a real thing. Scooping ice cream is the same in every flavor."
"Really?"
"Well, I mean... I guess if it's got nuts in it, or sprinkles or chunks of stuff, it's a little different. But it's not like moving up a belt in karate."
"My whole world is a lie," Stu gasped.
"What did you call me for?" Melvin asked.
"Oh! Dude, Sok escaped!"
"What??"
"I stepped outside for a minute to uh.. answer the door, and she must have slipped out the window or something."
Melvin hung up, and turned to his coworker, "cover for me. My um.. my pet escaped. I have to go hunt her down."
"I understand completely," replied Sasha, the sexy ice cream scooper, once again dressed like a flower.
"Dump," he whispered to himself, looking around the empty apartment.
"Dump!" He shouted louder, pacing farther in, trying to gauge if perhaps Sok was merely hiding somewhere, unseen under a blanket, or crouched behind the bed.
"DOOKIE DIAPER DUMP!" Stu shouted really quite loudly into the empty bathroom.
He thought he heard something in the bushes.
His hands shook as he pulled out his phone and dialed Melvin's work number.
"Hello?" Melvin said after his coworker handed him the phone.
"Hey, man, I didn't interrupt your chocolate test, did I?" Stu asked meekly.
"What? No, I... that's not a real thing. Scooping ice cream is the same in every flavor."
"Really?"
"Well, I mean... I guess if it's got nuts in it, or sprinkles or chunks of stuff, it's a little different. But it's not like moving up a belt in karate."
"My whole world is a lie," Stu gasped.
"What did you call me for?" Melvin asked.
"Oh! Dude, Sok escaped!"
"What??"
"I stepped outside for a minute to uh.. answer the door, and she must have slipped out the window or something."
Melvin hung up, and turned to his coworker, "cover for me. My um.. my pet escaped. I have to go hunt her down."
"I understand completely," replied Sasha, the sexy ice cream scooper, once again dressed like a flower.
----
Melvin raced around town shouting "SOK! SOK!" It was windy out to-day, which masked his voice a little, but that also meant there were less people on the main roads. Most of the tourism in Port Teague was down at the river taking advantage of the ideal windsurfing conditions. "SOK! Sok!" He was beginning to run out of breath, but the panic was propelling him forward through the fatigue.
He rounded the corner above the Teague Sisters' novelty shop and spotted Posie meandering down the sidewalk in a scuba suit, hair blowing around in the wind. He was momentarily glad to see her, out of habit, and then it stung once the context set in. She spotted him too, and immediately tried to flag him down. "Melvin!" She shouted.
Just like last time, he tried to rush past her, "not now! I'm terribly busy! I gotta go!"
This time, she leapt out and grabbed his arm on the way by, yanking him backwards onto his butt.
"No, wait I- Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to yank you down like that. Are you okay?"
He sat there for a second panting. He didn't realize how out of breath he was until he was sitting.
"Phew! Yes, I'm fine," he finally said, lifting himself back to his feet. "But I really do have to go."
"No wait!" Posie grabbed his arm again before he could run off.
"What?" Melvin whipped back around, frustrated.
"Look, I know you're avoiding me," Posie stood her ground. "And I get it. And I'm sorry. But Stu and I agree, we think things should go back to normal."
"You talked to Stu?" She had Melvin's full attention now.
"Yeah, I just left your place," She said.
"What??" Melvin gasped. "Did you go in?"
"No," Posie answered matter-of-factly.
"Did... did he say anything strange to you?"
Posie thought for a moment. "Yes." Melvin's eyes got really wide.
"He said," she continued, "that bikes were sexy. They're not."
Melvin's sighed in relief.
"Anyways, we agreed that we want things to go back to normal between the three of us. So whatever we gotta talk out, you and I, to make that happen, let's do it. I just want to enjoy this summer twilight period where we're not teenagers anymore, but we don't have to face adulthood yet. You know what I mean? So let's-"
"I can't," Melvin interrupted.
"What? But-"
"I can't," he interrupted again, but slightly louder.
The butterflies that fluttered around in his stomach when he was around her were overwhelmed by the panic and urgency to find Sok; the fear of embarrassing himself in front of Posie with his own feelings completely collapsed under the weight of the fear that his brother would find Sok first and commit horrible atrocities.
"Look," he said. "I need space. Lots of space. Outer space. I'm sorry things aren't normal. It's just that I love you." Posie was waiting impatiently for a place to interject and argue with him, but once he said the L word, she shut up. He continued, "and trying to be friends with you like we were before, and pushing that down, would take a lot of energy from me. And I really am very busy, and I can't handle that kind of friendship right now. I just can't do it. If you have a change of heart and want to pursue something with me, then I'll gladly make time for you. Otherwise, please just leave me alone, and go be perfect and gorgeous and amazing somewhere else."
When she didn't say anything back, he turned and started running off again to find Sok. Posie snapped out of it and started chasing after him. "You're a jerk Melvin Hemmingway!" She yelled. "You're a butthead! You know I suck at reading people! You couldn't even hardly ask me to coffee through all the hiccups, and now you LOVE me?? Like it's NOTHING?? Get real!"
He rounded the corner, and she couldn't keep up because she was wearing flippers on her feet; and when she tried to turn the corner, she tripped on them and skinned her knee. She stayed sitting on the sidewalk for a few minutes after that, holding her knee, brushing the dirt out of the wound, and trying to decide what to do now.
'He LOVES me?' She thought to herself. 'What's HIS deal? Manic never even said that to me. He thought love was a series of compelling chemicals, and that relationships were mutually beneficial contractual agreements. He didn't find me loveable. Because I'm not. And that makes sense. Why did Melvin SAY that to me? It's uncomfortable.' She shook her head, and thought insistently, 'Logismoi! I'm spiraling again. I AM loveable. I AM. Lord have MERCY.'
"What are you doing?" Joe turned the corner and spotted her on the ground while she wasn't paying attention. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and holding a six pack of cheap beer. He had a lizard on his shoulder, but she couldn't tell what kind.
"Oh nothin," she answered. "Just trying to break a habit of processing external love as internal hatred. Also, my knee is bleeding."
"Let me see," he said, crouching down to inspect. "It's not too bad. just a little skin. It's not even really bleeding anymore, but I have some adhesive bandage strips in my cargo shorts I think." He reached into his pockets and pulled out his wallet, a yo-yo, a stethoscope, an old flip phone, a spool of string, a hacky sack with a post-it note on it, a stack of post-its, a used ring pop, and a Professor Whom novelty voice recorder, before he finally found an adhesive bandage strip. He unwrapped it and put it on her knee.
"Thank you. I like your lizard," she said.
"I got him to-day!" Joe said excitedly. "His name is Fej! I was just snooping around town and I found a pet store, and he was in the window staring at me and I just died from cuteness overload. Luckily, I had a fake lizard in my pocket. I just swapped Fej here out for the fake one, Indiana Jones style! So yeah, he's my best friend now." Fej licked his own eyeball.
"Have we met?" Posie asked. "You look familiar."
"Kind of. I was at that 4th of July party. I saw that other hiccupping guy with the hat ask you out for coffee."
"Oh yeah!" Posie remembered.
"So what's got you blue?" He asked.
"I guess.. well I got dumped recently, and I'm not feeling like a queen about it."
"Say no more," Joe stood up and extended his hand to help her up. "I'm on my way down to the river to watch the windsurfers and drink some cheap beer! Would you care to join me? You're already dressed for it."
"Sure!" Posie took his hand and stood up to her feet, and they started walking toward the river.
"Also, I gotta ask. Have you seen any aliens or alien artifacts lately?"
"What?"
"I'm a paranormal investigator."
"Oh. That's weird. I haven't seen any aliens. But we do have a demon possessed guy!"
"That's interesting too! Forget the windsurfers, show me that!"
---
Joe and Posie tucked themselves away from the wind on a little wooden bench inside of a little wooden enclosed school bus stop, and cracked open a couple of beers. Joe put Fej on his lap.
"You see that house there?" Posie pointed across the street. There, in the corner, tucked behind some overgrown hedges, grass, and a broken chain linked fence, was a raggedy house. It had a very disheveled, almost cliché "haunted house" look to it, with dark paint that was peeling off from the lack of touch ups, and boarded windows. The front door had a swinging screen door that was freely clanging against the wall from the wind.
"That's Jason Thane's house. He's been there a very long time, and he only ever comes out to check the mail. Sometimes he eats one of the letters. I used to come here and watch him with... stinky old Melvin." She said his name such dripping annoyance, Joe guessed (incorrectly) that Melvin must've been her ex; the guy who dumped her.
"You think he's demon possessed because he eats his snail mail?" Joe asked.
"Well, no. I didn't come up with the demon possessed thing. It's a town legend," Posie took a drink of the cheap beer and made a sour face. "Ugh! This tastes like urine!"
"Of course it does," said Joe. "That's the point. Have you never had cheap beer before? How old are you?"
"I'm eighteen," she answered. "How old are you?"
"Twenty one. But I had my first beer at sixteen. I thought that was a common thing. I can finish that for you if you don't want it."
"I'm no square!" She shouted and started chugging.
When she was quite done proving herself, he said, "okay, tell me more about this town legend."
Posie said, "Well, they say the Teague sisters cursed Mr. Thane."
"The Teague Sisters? Like from the novelty shop?"
"No, the Teague sisters don't run the novelty shop, the shop is named after the Teague sisters. They were said to be witches," she took another guzzle.
"So, is the 'Teague' in 'Port Teague'...?"
"Joseph Teague founded Port Teague, and the Teague sisters were his daughters," another drink down the hatch.
"I see," said Joe. "Joseph, that's a cool name."
Posie cracked open another can of beer, "they say Jason Thane was engaged to one of the Teague sisters, Caroline, but he called the wedding off to be with another woman. Out of anger and jealousy, she collected her two sisters and the three of them called forth demonic forces upon Jason. And he's pretty much been living right here being a crazy dude ever since. Eating his mail..."
"Fascinating. And you believe it?"
"I dunno," said Posie, thoughtfully, as she drank still more beer. Her eyes lit up, "But one time me and Melvin were watching old bad kung fu movies at folks house, and it was awesome, because we were cracking jokes and making fun of it, and we're pretty hilarious. Were. We WERE pretty hilarious," her eyes were no longer lit up, and her tone shifted, and drifted off.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Joe asked.
"Huh?" She took another sip. "Oh! Yeah! So, later at dinner, we were talking about Jason Teague.. I mean Jason Thane. Haha, listen to me. Beer is funny. Anyways, and his dad (Melvin's, not Jason's) mentioned him and his friends, when THEY were teenagers, they snuck into Jason's house, and saw him move the furniture around."
Joe waited for further explanation.
When none was forthcoming, he asked, "so... they watched him feng shui his living room?"
"No! With his mind!" Posie put her fingers to her temples, like a telepath might, and took another drink of her beer. "He moved the furniture around with his mind!"
"Oh! That's different," Joe responded.
"Melvin thinks he was just high at the time," Posie winked and mimed taking a puff of an imaginary pipe with an imaginary lighter. "His dad's kind of into the marijuana weed, if you know what I'm saying. The Mary Juan, if you catch my drift."
"I do catch your drift. You haven't actually insinuated anything. You're saying it directly."
Posie laughed a little too hard.
"Okay, you maybe should cool it with the beer," Joe said, concerned.
"I'm no square!" She shouted again, and moved to grab another can. Joe stopped her.
"Nobody's dying to-day," he said. "Not on my watch."
She huffed, but conceded.
The front door to Mr. Thane's house opened, and they watched from the bus stop as an elderly gentleman hobbled out, onto the porch and down the walkway toward the mail box. His hair was long and disheveled, he wasn't wearing a shirt, and his pants were being held up by only one suspender strap. Posie and Joe were practically holding their breath. Is he gonna do it? Is he gonna eat his mail? Mr. Thane got to the mail box, opened it up and slowly flipped through about five letters, barely looking at them. His eyes were glazed over like he hadn't slept in a month. Then, one of the letters seemed to irritate him. He grunted, and shoved it in his mouth, and hobbled back up the walkway, chewing. He did it!
"That's amazing!" Joe smiled.
"Yeah, Melvin and I used to come here and watch this all the time," Posie slurred a little, finishing another can of beer.
"How did you get another can of beer without me noticing?" Joe asked.
"I'm no square," she whispered.
"Well, I dunno if he's demon possessed or not," Joe started. "Most of the demon possessions I've investigated have turned out to be mental illnesses. Schizophrenia, bipolar mania, that kind of thing. I'm surprised nobody's sent him to a psych facility yet."
"I don't think these beverages are sitting right," Posie rubbed on her stomach.
"Yeah, I regret giving you alcohol," chuckled Joe. "Come on, let's maybe get you home or something."
"No!" Posie rebelled. "I live with my parents, they can't know I've been drinking!"
"Okay, okay, alright," Joe consented, not really wanting to meet this girl's parents either, given the circumstances. "Let's just go to that café on 2nd street then, and get you some water and coffee."
"The Hummingbird!" Posie was delighted, and jumped up to start heading in that direction. Joe put Fej back on his shoulder and followed close behind.
---
"Sok!" Melvin continued to call, now at a brisk jog, barely faster than his walking pace. He turned down a steep street that led in front of an abandoned church, and he spotted a figure kneeling in the church yard. As he got closer, he saw the familiar long sheep colored hair, and the blue skin of her arms resting on the brown, patchy grass. "Sok!" He called, and ran to her.
She looked up at him, with tears in her eyes and said, "Boosh. Shloven boosh."
"What is boosh?" Melvin asked, as though she could understand his question.
She made a slow wavy circular gesture, dropping one of her ear pieces in the grass lazily. He didn't understand her answer.
"Come on, let's get you home. You don't want to be seen out here. It's not safe."
He gently patted her back and motioned his hands to follow him. She sniffled, then stood up and took his hand. The two of them walked slowly back to Melvin's apartment.
---
Melvin and Stu laid Sok down on his bed, and although she didn't seem to be sleeping, she didn't get up or move much. She didn't get up to scan anymore books; she wouldn't even get up to eat, though she did nibble on a carrot they handed her in bed. They checked her temperature, and she didn't seem to have a fever, at least by human standards. They were grateful, because they were afraid to take her to a doctor, and attempting to deal with a sick extra terrestrial whose immune system isn't calibrated to earth diseases was a can of worms and worries they weren't prepared for. They were already feeling woefully inadequate to the task while she was healthy and agreeable. After a few hours, she fell asleep there, so Melvin and Stu risked a quick walk to the store, locking the doors and windows behind them, and leaving a bowl of grapes on the table for if she woke up while they were gone.
"Have you figured out what 'boosh' means?" Melvin asked Stu, as they walked down the street.
"Not at all. I wish I knew. It seems important," Stu answered.
"She was saying it again while she was crying on the church lawn. Do you think it's a religious thing?"
"Like what? Like her god is named Boosh?" Stu was skeptical. "Nah, I don't think so. I can't imagine she could've known it was even a church building."
"Maybe she scanned the sign?" Melvin suggested.
"Yeah, but do you really think aliens would be religious?" Stu asked.
"Why not?"
"Because religions don't build rockets, Melvin," Stu said, insistently. "Religions throw stones at people that are too different from the initiated. Like me. And especially like anyone making actual scientific progress when it contradicts their core creation myths. If she flew in a rocket to a planet in another solar system, the odds are much greater that her species already has some conception of the big bang, and the expansion of the universe, and probably even of the evolution of life forms. Religion would've been a serious obstacle for the development of any of those sciences. Just like it always has been here."
"I hadn't thought about it that way," said Melvin, thoughtfully. "Twenty bucks says you're wrong, and Sok's got one or more deities. Or less."
"Nice try. One or more and you're on."
---
"Thank you for taking care of me," said Posie. She took another sip of her third cup of coffee in five minutes and put it down next to a little Hummingbird drinks menu and a very large, half-empty bottle of water.
"You're going to be spending a lot of time in the bathroom very soon," predicted Joe.
"Maybe, but my knee doesn't hurt anymore," observed Posie, still slurring. "Thank you for taking care of me all day, by the way. You didn't need to do any of that."
"You already thanked me," Joe said.
"Thanks for taking..." Posie thought for a second, then finished pointedly. "...care of me."
"You're welcome."
"Thaaaat's what I wanted to hear. I'm WELCOME," she gestured with her arm and knocked the water bottle onto the her lap. She laughed too loud again. "Hahaha I finally got wet in my scuba suit!"
Joe chuckled politely.
"Melvin used to take care of me all the time," she said bitterly.
"Well, maybe you should stop telling me about him," suggested Joe.
"Did I ever tell you about the time I got sick and he brought me soup?" She asked.
"No, but I think I've probably heard enough about-"
"Yeah, I got sick one day and had to stay home from school, and he made this grilled cheese sandwich in a ziplock and a Tupperware container of soup, right? Only he didn't bring it to me, he like... I have this planter beneath the outside of my bedroom window that I never use, it came with the house. And he put the food in my planter and knocked on my window and hid in the bushes. It was so nice of him. He's such a butthole surfer. I hate him."
"It sounds like you've got a lot of good memories with this guy," said Joe.
"Yeah, I do. Like the time-"
"Hey listen," Joe interrupted. "Pardon me for saying this, because I've only just met you. But you're a really great catch. And Melvin clearly doesn't see that if he was willing to dump you like he did.
"W-what?" Posie was surprised.
"Yeah, you're really pleasant to be around, and you're cute, and you've probably got other qualities, I don't know, I just met you. But what's most striking to me, is that the two of you seem to have all this chemistry, and all these great memories with each other. And forgive me, but there's no way he can possibly realize how rare that is, if he was willing to just give it up. And that's HIS loss. I think, therefore, in my opinion, that you're better off just forgetting about him and moving on."
Posie considered this while she took a long drink of her coffee. Finally, she corrected him, "Melvin didn't dump me."
"He didn't?"
"No, my ex-boyfriend is someone else."
"Oh," Joe drank in this new information. "Well then who is Melvin?"
"You remember that guy with the hiccups at the 4th of July party?"
"No way!" Joe remembered. "The guy with the hat?"
"Yeah, that's him."
"The guy that asked you on a coffee date?"
"The very same guy."
"Why did you turn him down if you like him so much?"
"What?" Posie was again, surprised.
"Oh don't be surprised, you've been talking about him all day to-day. It's alright, but I'm curious now why you turned him down."
"I didn't," Posie answered honestly, if still a little buzzed.
"I was there, ma'am," he challenged.
"Well, I didn't say YES. I just... I dunno. I was really on the spot. And I was just saying stuff and stalling and thinking about it. And he took it as a no, and ran off. He basically made the decision for me."
Joe took out his ring pop from his pocket, gave it a tiny lick, and put it back.
"Okay," he said finally. "I'm gonna take off. I've still got an alien to find."
"Wait, that's it?" Posie asked. "You're just gonna leave?"
"We can hang out again soon if you'd like. Do you know E.J. Hemingway by chance?"
"Yeah, he's Melvin's brother," she replied.
Joe's eyes went wide, "Melvin is THAT Melvin?? Melvin Hemingway??" He busted out into a hearty laughter. "Oh, this town really IS small! E.J. Hemingway is my partner."
"Oh!" Posie said. "I forgot he's a paranormal investigator too. I should've made that connection."
"Well then you should have enough information to track me down now," he stood up to leave. "Final thoughts... if you don't like Melvin romantically, then you don't like him romantically. This isn't really a decision you have to make for yourself, your heart already does that for you, and there's very little you can do about it. But if you don't, you've gotta leave the poor guy alone."
"That really sucks," said Posie.
"I know," concurred Joe. "We live in a world where we have to constantly remove ourselves from the people we love the most, and the people who love us the most. We live in a world where hearts break, and they don't go dutch. We live in a world where Eros is broken."
After Joe left, Posie stayed at the table for a few minutes stewing in his words. Very suddenly, she stood up, cleaned off her table, and dashed out the door. She ran all the way home, packed a bag with some stuff, and then dashed back out. She ran all the way to Melvin's house. She saw Stu's bike out front, so she figured someone was home. She knocked on the door a few times, but there was no answer.
"Stu!?" She called. "Melvin!?"
No answer. The door was locked. 'I guess they're out after all.'
She picked the lock and let herself in, whispering "plus ten stealth skills" to herself, then closed the door behind her. A dim lamp was on in one corner of the room, but she didn't turn the main light on. Instead, she pulled two candles out of her bag and lit them, placing them on the tiny floor table next to the bowl of grapes. Then she pulled out a small bag of plastic rose pedals and spread some of them onto the bed. Finally, she took her scuba suit off and unpacked the sexiest outfit she owned, according to her: a peacock costume, complete with a rubber strap-on beak. Once she finally successfully zipped herself into the bean-bag of a bird torso, she turned around and yelped in surprise.
Sok was standing in the bathroom doorway staring at her, squeezing a tube of toothpaste into her mouth.
----
----
"This place sucks!" Mallory Gates shouted, as she and E.J. strolled down 2nd Street. "It's tiny and boring and sad!" She threw a rock down the empty street.
"Then why did you agree to come with me?" E.J. asked, irritated.
"Because Joe is being annoying," she whined. "He's been... MEETING people here, and he won't shut up about it into his magic wand."
"His novelty voice recorder?"
"Yeah, he's like 'I'm Joe Michaels and I met a veritable Sesame Street cast of characters to-day. My breakfast is mostly wieners'." She made her voice as annoying as possible while she mimicked Joe. "It's like he's playing Clue with the townsfolk, instead of doing his job and looking for the space alien. He even met someone whose actual name is Pillow! This town is ridiculous."
"If this town is Sesame Street, I suppose Ms. Pillow would probably be our resident Elmo," E.J. said. "She's actually why we're here."
They came up on a small salmon colored building with a big cartoonish logo that read "The Cone Zone".
"What, Ms. Pillow made you want crappy ice cream?" Mallory mocked.
"This is where my brother works. Please behave yourself."
"EXCUSE ME?" Mallory's eyebrows rose up past her bangs. "Did you SERIOUSLY tell ME to behave myself??"
"Just-" E.J. was interrupted by several punches to the arm. He ducked inside the Cone Zone, but she followed him in, immediately dropped her pants over her buttocks and pressed her cheeks against the glass in front of the ice cream and started humming the national anthem.
"I'm so sorry about her," E.J. apologized to Sasha.
"That's alright," Sasha brushed it off. "This isn't even the first time that's happened. Although, this would certainly win the 'moon freckles' award."
"Oh say does that star spangled buttocks yet waaaaave..." Mallory sang loudly and obnoxiously.
"Is Melvin in?" E.J. asked.
"Nah, he had to leave early cause his pet got loose," she answered.
"He has a pet?" E.J. asked, surprised. "Did he say what kind?"
"I don't remember," she replied honestly. "I like to imagine it's a turtle though, cause that's what's funniest to me."
E.J. stood there for a moment thinking. Sasha felt like he was staring at her, but she couldn't tell where he was actually looking through his goggles.
"Did you want some ice cream?" She asked.
"I guess he's just got his own life," E.J. ignored her. "I don't know why I'm making it weird."
"Who? Melvin? Are you two a thing?"
"Oh, sorry. I'm E.J., I'm Melvin's brother."
"Oh! Nice to meat you!" She smiled.
"You spelled meet wrong," he corrected.
"What?"
"It's just that, I came here because I heard from a friend of a friend that Melvin asked his best friend slash dream girl out, and got shut down. And now I'm learning he's got a pet from his coworker. I mean, we just had dinner, I don't know why he didn't catch me up himself. But I guess he doesn't have to; it's not that weird."
"I know how you feel," said Mallory, pulling her pants back up. "I have a sister I'm no longer close with."
"You do?" E.J. asked. "You never talk about your family."
"Not much to talk about. She murdered like three people with a chainsaw, and I never went to visit her in the nuthouse. Oh! That sounds good! I think I'd like an ice cream with nuts."
"Absolutely!" Sasha smiled. "We have three kinds of ice cream with nuts, but you can also put nuts on any flavor as an additional topping."
"Surprise me."
"Pickle cream peanut brittle surprise pie coming right up!" Sasha pulled her scoop out of a gun holster on her belt and twirled it above her head like a baton.
"Woah! That sounds gross, but I'm intrigued."
"I'll just have chocolate on a cake cone," said E.J.
"Oh man," groaned Sasha. "I'm not certified to scoop the chocolate yet. I'd have to call the manager over... and then I'd have to explain why Melvin's not here. Can you please just order something else?"
"Uh.." E.J. glanced at the menu. "What's 'Pirate Shanty'?"
"It's rum and cheese flavored."
"I would like to change my order," said Mallory.
---
Mallory and E.J. continued meandering down the street a ways, licking their pirate shanties.
"This must've been a weird small town to grow up in," Mallory said. "I would've hated it here. Not cause of the ice cream or anything, just like... I like the anonymity of the city. I like going to the grocery store and watching perfect strangers forced to interact but still trying not to. Like, avoiding eye contact, cutting each other off, all the heavy sighing... that's entertainment, you know?"
"Is it?" E.J. licked his ice cream.
"Yes, it's consumerist humanity at it's most honest. I feel like if I grew up here, I'd have to get dressed to go grocery shopping cause I might run into someone I know."
"What do you mean 'get dressed'?" E.J. asked. "Do you mean 'put on something other than pajamas'? Or do you mean 'put on clothes in general'?"
"Where are we going now?" She ignored his question.
"We could pop over to the river and see if any of the windsurfing tourists have seen any aliens or alien paraphernalia, I suppose," he suggested.
"Ooooh, what's this place?" She pointed at the Hummingbird. "A café? You know what would go great with a rum flavored ice cream? A scalding hot black coffee! It's like a detox flush! Hot then cold, yo!"
"You go ahead," he said. "It's a little late in the day for coffee for me."
"You're not even gonna come in?"
"I don't really.... I don't always get along with the owner," he winced.
"Okay then stay out here in the cold," she said, just before shoving her ice cream cone in his face and smearing it into his cheek. He let it happen without much of a reaction. She took her ice cream back and went into the Hummingbird.
On the way back to the door after buying her coffee, she noticed the photo collage memorial for Nichole Thom. She recognized the name, from E.J., but had never seen pictures of her before. She walked up closer to take a quick look, and was stricken by the old photos of her and E.J. together. He looked so young! He was still wearing hats in every photo, but the goggles were gone and his eyes looked normal. Handsome even. This must be why he didn't want to come inside.
She walked back out the front door silently, and gave E.J. a gentle hug.
"What is this? What's happening?" E.J. asked, confused. "Are you hugging me?"
"You've lost so much," she said quietly. Then she broke the hug and kicked him in the shin, "is that what kind of girl you're into? She's nothing like me!"
"Ouch! Mallory, I don't have a type. We started dating in high school," he defended himself.
"Yeah, right! Why don't you go run off with some sporty sports girl with her goody two shoes jerseys and her team player trophies!"
"I'm sorry," he raised his voice. "Would you rather I'd dated you because you were exactly like my ex? Is THAT the preferable scenario?"
"Am I the rebound basket off the backboard!? Am I nothing but a bounce pass to you!?" She continued yelling. "Am I just a double dribble!?"
"What does that even mean??" E.J. yelled back.
Mallory dropped her pirate shanty and lunged at his face with her face, crashing into it lips first. She began to nibble at his mouth, but he pushed her away.
"I like it when you play rough," she said, and started to lunge again, but he stopped her.
He said, "I'd rather actually not make out in front of the café," and started walking away toward the river.
"Why not??" She planted her feet and started yelling again. "Is it because I'm not wearing a jersey?? Huh?? Is it cause I don't have face paint and a giant foam finger?? Is that what does it for you?? Cause you can take that foam finger and shove it up your butt-hoop!!"
E.J. continued walking away, and flipped her the bird.
Mallory heavy sighed, shouted "FINE!", picked her pirate shanty off the ground, gave it a lick, and followed him.
---
"Yeah, one of the guys I've been talking to from the city sent me a video of himself playing the contrabass balalaika. It's pretty cool," Stu told Melvin, as the two of them walked back up the street with grocery bags.
"Contra baseball? Like a video game themed baseball game?" Melvin asked.
"No," Stu answered. "Contrabass balalaika. It's an instrument."
"Oh. I misheard you."
"Although, Contrabass-ball does sound like a great idea for a sport," Stu mused. "It'd be like baseball, only lower."
"What's that? Is that Posie?" Melvin and Stu were approaching Melvin's apartment building, and spotted her powerwalking away from the front door.
"What is she wearing?" Asked Melvin. "Is that a child's thanksgiving turkey costume?"
"It's very purple and green, and it looks like the tail is bedazzled," observed Stu. "My money's on peacock. If she's trying to become a pilot, she should really dress like birds that can actually fly."
"She's probably going to try and talk to me again," Melvin grumbled. "I don't know why she can't just leave well enough alone."
"Nope. Nope nope nope nope nononononono nope," Posie repeated as she marched right past them without making eye contact.
"Wait!" Stu put the grocery bags down on the ground and turned to march after her. She whipped around to face him. "Did.... did you just come out of Melvin's apartment?" She nodded her head.
"We locked the door," Melvin said, irritated.
"Yeah, I picked the lock," Posie answered, also irritated.
"You broke into my home?" Melvin raised his voice. "Why did you do that?"
"Because I'm a strong, independent woman, and I can make my own decisions for myself!" Posie defended herself.
"Oh, how good of you to experience character growth at the expense of my personal privacy!" Melvin escalated.
"This is very important, Posie," Stu stepped between the two and interjected. "Did you see anything... unusual?"
"What?" Posie looked at Stu, bewildered. "Oh, you mean the tiny blue foreign girl? What's the deal with that, anyways? I was thinking maybe one of you had a visiting cousin or something, with a lot of high budget movie makeup. But that's REAL BLUE SKIN, you guys. And she doesn't speak English and she got real grabby with my body."
"Yes!" Stu shouted, elated. He caught himself, cleared his throat and said in a normal tone of voice, "sorry. Gay alien. This is a really exciting moment for me."
Posie asked, "level with me: Did you guys order a sky colored, gay, mail order bride from a really fringe Indian country?"
"Don't answer her," Melvin told Stu, then turned back to Posie and said, "Respectfully, Posie, you broke my heart, and now you broke my trust, and also you broke into my apartment. That's three things you've broken. And we don't owe you an explanation for any blue people you may or may not have found therein. Now please leave."
"Fine!" Posie shouted, and stormed off again, away from the apartment. "Go have fun with your prostitute, and your insanely specific kinks! Glad I dodged a bullet there!"
"WAIT!!" Stu shouted at the both of them. "Power play," he whispered quietly to himself, then shouted "LISTEN!" and sat down on the pavement, forcing the two to walk closer to hear what he was saying. He continued at a normal volume, "I'm sick and tired of the way things are going down lately. You guys are acting super selfish. And now it's my turn to be selfish. Posie, you told me you wanted things to go back to the way they used to be between the three of us. And Melvin, YOU promised me things wouldn't get weird if you asked her out. I get that you need space, and I understand that we're adults now, and things are gonna be different. And we might drift apart. And we might start getting consumed by adult things, like taxes, and audits, and mortgages, and getting endlessly forced by landlords and the homeowner's association to financially support the increasingly unnecessary lawn care industry. But not right now. Right now you two are all I've got, and I need you."
When they didn't respond, he kept going. "And we've been through a lot together. We lost Nick. E.J. moved. And Manic.. well, good riddance to him, honestly, but I did get used to him being around, but he's not here now. So it's just the three of us. And now especially with the alien-" Stu gasped suddenly and his eyes widened. He stood back onto his feet. "Oh! What was I thinking?! Posie knows about the alien! She can't go anywhere!"
"What are you talking about?" Posie asked, exhausted.
Melvin harrumphed, "flabnabbit, you're right. She's in this now."
"In what?" Posie was starting to feel suspicious.
"Let's all go inside," Melvin suggested. "We need to sit down, and maybe have some coffee."
"O-o-okay.." Posie reluctantly agreed.
"Try not to pee yourself," suggested Melvin, helpfully.
"I... you know I've had a lot of diuretics to drink to-day, actually, and I'm beginning to get a little concerned that I haven't needed to pee yet."
---
"Oh good, she's up!" Said Stu. The three of them entered the apartment and saw Sok sitting on the bed surrounded by rose pedals. The boys noticed the lit candles on the table, and the scuba suit on the floor.
"She's up and she lit candles?" Melvin asked, confused.
"That was actually me," Posie admitted.
"You broke into my apartment and LIT CANDLES? And just LEFT THEM LIT????" Melvin started to raise his voice again, but Stu stopped him.
"Go pour the coffee, I'll explain the situation to her," he said. Melvin whined and sauntered over to the coffee pot, as Stu and Posie took a seat on the floor at the table. Posie kept glancing nervously at Sok, who was just sitting there staring at them.
"So here's the thing," Stu said. He pointed to Sok, who smiled and waved frantically. "Meet Sok. She's a space alien."
"A.... a space alien?" Posie asked. "Like from space?"
"Yes."
"She's from outer space?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"How do you know?"
"Because we saw her land in a space craft. And also she's blue and her eyes are weird and swirly."
"When did she land?"
"When did she land?"
"At the fourth of July party."
"The one at the port?"
"The very same."
"But I was there. Melvin was there."
"Yeah, but the ship landing blended in with the fireworks. Melvin and I already left the party and we saw it crash in the woods."
"But... but..."
"I know it's a lot to take in. Take your time."
"....Is she just wearing Melvin's clothes? She's swimming in them," Posie asked concerned.
"It's all we have," Stu shrugged. Melvin put three cups of coffee down and joined them at the table.
"Shouldn't... shouldn't the cops be involved? Oh!" Posie remembered something. "Joe was just telling me he was looking for an alien!"
"Who is Joe?" Melvin asked.
"Your brother's partner! Another paranormal investigator! He gave me his number! He'll prolly know what to do about-"
"NO!" Stu and Melvin shouted simultaneously. Posie was taken aback.
"NO!" Stu and Melvin shouted simultaneously. Posie was taken aback.
Stu scooted closer to Posie and put his hand on her shoulder, "Posie. Darling. Can I call you darling?"
"It sort of makes me feel like an English cat, or Huckleberry Hound's girlfriend, but okay," she said.
"It sort of makes me feel like an English cat, or Huckleberry Hound's girlfriend, but okay," she said.
"You cannot call Joe. You cannot tell ANYONE that Sok is being kept here in this apartment. Do you understand?"
"Why not?"
Melvin interjected, "because they're gonna torture and murder her!"
Posie's eyes widened, "But why?"
"To learn how to torture and murder aliens, in case more come, so they can torture and murder them too!"
"But why?" She asked again.
"I don't know!" Melvin answered loudly. "Because E.J.'s idea of peace is everyone pointing a gun at everyone else's head and being too afraid to pull the trigger."
Sok muttered some words into her earpiece and pointed it at the wall. The translated projection read, "I am to hunt boosh."
The three friends read it, and got excited.
"Oh someone's god!" Stu exclaimed. "She's talking to us!"
"What's boosh?" Posie asked.
"We haven't figured that out yet," answered Stu.
Sok nodded vigorously when she heard Posie say boosh. Then she muttered something else into her earpiece and projected, "Boosh is alive thing. Boosh is transparent. Boosh is common and often. What is your word for boosh?"
"Transparent, common and often?" Stu repeated.
"You're hunting something that's invisible and prevalent?" Posie asked. "Are you hunting air?"
"Wait," Melvin stood up and walked over to the window. "Like this?" He asked, tapping on the glass.
Sok scrunched up her nose, and translated, "Boosh is alive thing."
"An alive, transparent creature?" Stu thought some more. "What would that even be?" He grabbed a pen and paper from the bookshelf and wrote down, "do you have boosh on your planet?" He motioned for Sok to scan it with her ear piece. She complied, and answered (via translator), "Yes. Boosh is common and often."
"What do they look like?" Stu wrote.
"Boosh is transparent," Sok answered patiently.
"You're making her talk in circles," Melvin critiqued.
"Yeah okay, that was a stupid question," Stu said out loud. Then he wrote, "I don't believe we have them on this planet."
Sok looked confused. She translated, "I to find on here planet already. They are common and often here."
Everyone felt unsettled reading that.
"Um, let's come back to that," Posie suggested. "Ask her how many aliens are coming here, and if they mean us any harm."
"Good idea," said Stu, and he complied.
"How many of you are on this planet?"
"Sok is alone."
"How many of you are coming to this planet?"
"Zero are to follow me."
"Do you want to hurt us?"
Sok giggled, "Hurt is only for accidents and learning. I not to hurt on purpose. Strange thoughts."
"What planet are you from?"
Sok thought for a second, then muttered into her earpiece. This time, when she projected the answer on the wall, it was like a slide show of monochromatic pictures. The first picture was of a planet with rings, like Saturn, but which seemed to have water, continents and clouds. The second picture was of a mountain, with some kind of plant life on it. You could see the rings in the sky, in the distance. The third picture was the most interesting; it was like a whole village had grown naturally out of the soil. As though the people who lived there had spent a great deal of time cultivating the trees and bushes into various complex shapes and sizes that facilitated their need for housing structures, and protection from the elements. There was a lot of outdoor furnishings, and drapes, which gave it a sort of tent-dwelling commune vibe. The fourth and final picture was by some kind of water source, like a large lake. It featured tall cylindrical structures coming out of the water that seemed to be made of the same polished marble as the fish rocket, with flattened metal walkways circling them, and providing passage to the shore. Bobbing out of the water were more fish rockets, of different shapes and sizes.
"That's super beautiful," wrote Stu. "How far away is it?"
"We to find your space ship," answered Sok. "Floating through tunnel in space. Your space ship was to abandon. Only boosh inside. Boosh in your ship was to break. Boosh was to hurt on purpose. I to fly in tunnel. I to find your planet. I to hunt why boosh to break."
They felt unsettled again.
"What does that mean? The boosh she found was broken?" Melvin pondered.
"It's difficult to parse her sentences," Posie said. "It looks like all of her verbs are translating to the present tense, with the word 'to' in front of it. Like 'break', 'broke', 'broken' and 'will break' are all translating to 'to break'. I can't tell if the boosh is broken and in pain, or if the boosh is violent and breaking things. But it sounds like she came here through some kind of wormhole maybe?"
"It says 'hurt on purpose', see?" Noticed Melvin, pointing at the projection. "I think that means the boosh was violent. Cause remember? Stu asked if Sok wanted to hurt us, and that was her phrasing. 'I not to hurt on purpose'."
"Interesting," thought Posie. "But if there's a bunch of transparent violent creatures hanging out in town, why haven't we seen any?"
"Maybe they're just straight up invisible?" Stu suggested.
"Wait," Melvin stood up. "Is Sok hunting Earth ghosts? Did she find a ghost ship, and now she's come to hunt Earth ghosts? That would make such a cool heavy metal concept album!"
"Settle down," Stu said. "We still know next to nothing."
"What is your planet?" Sok asked.
"Earth," Stu wrote.
Sok giggled. "You to name your planet 'Dirt'?"
"No, we named our dirt after the planet."
"We to name our planet home."
"I finally need to pee," said Posie, as she stood up. "Can one of you help me with my back zipper real quick?"
"Sure thing," said Melvin. "What kind of bird are you supposed to be?"
"I'm a peacock," she answered. "The sexiest bird. I was trying to be sexy."
Melvin's face turned red, and he hesitated with the zipper. He knew she broke into his apartment, lit candles and dumped rose pedals on his bed, but he hadn't connected the dots until just now that those were all romantic gestures.
"Thanks," she said, and she ducked into the bathroom.
After the intermission, she came out of the bathroom and said, "hey, I thought about this while I was in there, and I'm gonna run home real quick and come back."
"Don't you dare tell Joe or E.J. that Sok is here," warned Stu.
"No no, it's not that," Posie reassured them. "It's just that this costume is very bulky, and my only other outfit here is the scuba suit. And also, Sok doesn't fit Melvin's clothes; I've got some stuff that'll fit her better."
"I'm sure blue goes well with pretty much everything you own," Stu remarked sarcastically.
"Oh, I wouldn't know, I'm colorblind," said Posie.
"Oh, I wouldn't know, I'm colorblind," said Posie.
"Oooooh," Melvin pointed at her in realization.
"That explains so much," Stu said.
"How did we never know that?" Melvin asked.
"Oh! One more thing," Posie turned around at the door. "I know where my dad keeps a bottle of whiskey. Everyone down for whiskey?"
"None of us are over twenty-one," Stu said, responsibly.
"What are you, a square?" Melvin mocked him.
"I'm no square!" Posie shouted.
"I'm no square," Stu sighed.
"Mmm no shkwere!" Mimicked Sok innocently.
---
Posie returned after a bit with a box of clothes and two bottles of whiskey, each already opened and partly consumed by her father. They mixed some drinks in the kitchen area, but left the alcohol out of Sok's beverage. They drank and chatted well into the night; comparing their two planets, and overcoming the language/culture barrier little by little. Evidently, Sok's people took a long time into their technological development to get into outer space due to the advanced math made necessary by the gravitational complications caused by the planet's rings. They indeed cultivated their plant life into shapes that provided natural ceilings and rooms to live in, separated primarily by drapes. They did carve "dead buildings" out of stone, and whatever their equivalents to wood are, but they weren't for living in. They were usually structures that were like schools or training grounds.
One particularly fascinating topic that they spent over an hour on was how music worked on their planet. Sok explained that there were two words for music, one main word, "velheel" and another that was sort of a dirty word, "paal-velheel which carried the subtext that the music was somehow fake. Not that it was BAD music, only that it wasn't quite considered REAL music.
Sok explained that velheel is only to be performed by musicians, who spend their lives at what the translator called the "academe" learning how to perform it properly, and when. In contrast, paal-velheel was just whatever music normal non-musicians sang and played to themselves for their own amusement at home, or as they went about their work.
Posie guessed, "it must be something like how you can eat breakfast foods during dinner time, and call it breakfast. But it isn't REALLY breakfast, due to the way the human body's metabolism works after you've just woken up." Sok agreed that velheel has an important context in space and time in which it best fits and edifies the whole population, while paal-velheel is a more personal, intimate, simple pleasure, and isn't meant to be reverent.
Things got dicey when Sok asked why everyone was raising their voices when Posie first showed up, and if it had to do with her gender (which she discovered by feeling her up, which made Posie very uncomfortable earlier). Stu tried to explain about what was going on between Posie and Melvin, but Sok was having trouble grasping the concept of dating, and breaking up. He backpedaled and tried to explain it in terms of pairing off to mate, which she seemed to understand a little better, but not in any satisfying way. He tried asking about how mating worked on her planet, to see if that wouldn't help give him an idea how to explain the differences. Her planet had a tradition not unlike marriage, and procreating was an unsundered part of it. They were starting to get the sense that her home planet was very strict with their time and lifestyles. She didn't seem unhappy about it; quite the opposite.
They did ultimately choose who to marry, but it was always done at a certain time in a person's life (age seemed to be measured by some other kind of progress than amount of time spent alive), and the local community always had a say in the matter. Stu explained that in his culture, the decision was always made alone, between only the two people who intended to pair up, without much interference from other people. He explained that meant sometimes one person wanted to pair up while the other one didn't, and that this can sometimes make the one person very sad. She seemed amused by that.
When they pressed about how her culture's hierarchy worked, they learned that they operated on a kind of specialized biarchy; or possibly a loose conditional monarchy, but one where the main king submitted spiritually and morally to the religious king, while the religious king submitted to the primary authority of the main king. Regardless, decisions with a large enough impact on the culture weren't made by either king, and were instead decided at a glacial pace by a series of councils. When Stu asked about what happens if either of the kings are evil, or bad at their jobs and running society into the ground, Sok had a hard time grasping the question and kept insisting that there were only the two kings and that they were fine where they were. Likewise, when asked about what happens during a war, she continued to repeat that they weren't at war. Stu couldn't figure out how to communicate past tense or hypothetical inquiries, so he eventually gave up.
Sok was amused by Posie's description of her own society; she described the smaller family dynamics, how children tended to leave their parents and start their own families in a separate building, how everyone was expected to work to earn their basic necessities, how all decisions large and small were made democratically, and how Presidents were elected and switched out every so often. Sok asked why there was such a strong tradition of isolation and separation. Stu explained that it wasn't about tradition, and attempted to articulate the importance in their culture of individual freedoms, personal agency, and self discovery. She asked if that got lonely. Melvin said "yes, sometimes", and Stu and Posie had to concur.
At some point after one o'clock in the morning, Posie decided to go outside to get some fresh air.
---
Posie sat down out on the front stoop and pulled out her cell phone. Her thumb hovered over Joe's phone number for a minute before she finally decided to send him a text message.
"Hey Joe, this is Posie. What will you do when you find the space alien?"
Five minutes passed without a response, so she assumed he must be asleep, and put her phone back in her pocket. She heard Melvin come through the door behind her.
"Mind if I join you?" He asked.
"Not at all!" She urged. She tucked the side of her neon orange zip-up hoodie under her leg as though she was making space for him to sit down; but the stoop was wide, and it barely made a difference. He didn't sit down anywhere near where her hoodie was.
"It's pretty stuffy in there," Posie commented. "I think I really like drinking alcohol. But I'm getting kind of hot."
"I'm having a great time!" Melvin giggled. "I like drinking too. I hate how much I'm talking about it though. Like, I always hated when other people got into alcohol, and they wouldn't shut up about how they drink."
"Oh yeah," Posie agreed. "My cousins are always telling obnoxious stories, and they all start with how drunk they were."
"And yet here I am talking about drinking," Melvin slurred. "Hey, by the way, I'm sorry for being such a butthole surfer to you. You don't deserve that."
"You have nothing to apologize about," Posie dismissed. "And you know what? Neither do I."
Melvin giggled again.
"Hey, can I ask you a personal question?" Posie asked.
"Sure. What's up?"
"Why do you like me?"
Melvin stopped giggling, "what do you mean?"
"Well... I mean, I'm not exactly a catch," Posie looked down at the pavement. "I guess I'm just trying to understand what all the drama's been about. I'm not that pretty, and I know I probably make it worse by dressing weird. I'm not ambitious, I hate making decisions, and I'm not that smart, or responsible, or even that empathic or nurturing. I'm not really much of anything. So why are we like.. why do you care so much about me?"
"Ugh," Melvin hit his head with his fist. "I'm.. trying to be thoughtful and think of thoughtful things to say, but this alcohol is distracting. I'm... I don't like that you're talking about yourself like that. Just stop."
"Oh no!" Posie looked up and laughed. "Logismoi! Lord have mercy!" She tried to cross herself, but couldn't remember quite how the gesture went; if she needed to kiss her fingers first or not, so she compromised and licked her thumb.
"W..what was that?" Melvin blinked at her.
"I'm going through some stuff. You're right. I need to treat myself better. But my question still stands. Why do you like me?"
"I don't know, I just like you," he copped out uncomfortably.
"You haven't thought it through?" She asked.
"No, I don't think anything through, Posie, you know that," Melvin slurred. "I'm not like my brother, Posie. I feel my feelings really hard, and I follow my heart. And my heart says... my heart says that I really like being around you. And I don't like not being around you. And I want to keep being around you, even after we've grown up and started doing all that lawn care tax stuff Stu was talking about earlier. And all I want to do is get you to commit to being around me all the time, even if that means I have to kiss you sometimes. Which I would also like, very much."
"Oh," She blushed, and looked away.
"And I don't know why you don't think you're smart and pretty," he continued. "You were totally in there just now dissecting Sok's sentence structures, and making up for what the translator couldn't do. That wasn't Stu or I. We're not smart or pretty enough for that."
"Oh stop," she giggled. "That was just basic textual analysis."
"Okay, well now you're just making me feel like a dummy," Melvin accused. "You don't think I can do basic stuff?"
"No no! I was just being coy-"
"I'll show you basic stuff!" Melvin stood up and tried to jump over a bush, but just crashed face first into it. "Ouch!"
Posie yelped, and then laughed as she got up to help him out of the shrubbery, "are you alright?"
"No, I'm cool! And I looked cool and sexy crashing into that bush!" He laughed, brushing the leaves off his jacket.
"That was very basic. I'm proud of you."
"Hey Posie?" Melvin stopped laughing, and looked her in the eye.
"Yeah?"
"Why don't you like me?"
"Why don't you like me?"
Posie broke eye contact and turned back around to the stoop, "oh, um... you know what, we should sober up a bit before talking about stuff like this."
"Oh no you don't," Melvin challenged. "You asked me why I like you, and I answered. What, you can take it, but you can't dish it?"
"Well, it's different, isn't it?" She looked back at him.
"Maybe it is," he said loudly. "Maybe it's rougher. Maybe you were digging for compliments, while I'm basically asking for insults. But you know what? Criticism is constructive, right? If you're gonna be hanging around all the time, the least you can do is give me some closure and help me understand... help me understand how to be better in the future for girls like you."
The two stood there in the silence of the summer night avoiding eye contact.
Posie broke it with a sharp inhale, "Ah, well, this is awkward."
"I'm sorry I made it awkward," Melvin muttered. "You're right. I made it awkward, I'm sorry."
"Should we go back inside?" She asked.
"Yeah, you go ahead, I'll just hang out here for a minute."
"Did you just say you wanted to kiss me?"
"What?" Melvin looked back up at her.
"I thought you said... um, never mind," she turned around to walk up the stoop.
"No, wait," Melvin started to follow after her. "I definitely said that."
She bit her lip, then turned around, "okay, so let's see what you got, Hemingway."
He stopped in his tracks and winced, "oh, no, don't say it like that. That's a lot of pressure for a first kiss. My first kiss, I mean. I know you've had your first kiss with probably Manic, and probably plenty other kisses, but just like... please lower your expectations okay, cause I've been doing some drinking, and I don't know what I'm doing."
"Yeah, I'm overthinking it now too," she admitted. "Maybe this was a bad idea."
"Hey now, I didn't say it was a bad idea," he walked up the stoop closer to her.
"Well, the longer we stand here talking about kissing the weirder it's going to be if we actually kiss."
"Challenge accepted," Melvin smiled. "Did you know the first Egyptian chariots were powered by sails?"
Posie laughed, "okay, first of all, that can't be right."
"No it's true! They rode the sandstorms all the way down the Nile!"
"No it's true! They rode the sandstorms all the way down the Nile!"
"Look, sir, the chariot wasn't even invented in a vacuum. It was developed out of earlier types of wheeled transportation, which also probably used horses-"
Posie's history lesson was interrupted by Melvin's lips pressing into hers. For a microsecond, she kept talking into his mouth, but as soon as she realized she was being kissed, she sank into it and put her arms around his neck.
----
----
Joe Michaels and Mallory Gates stood in front of Nick Thom's memorial collage at the Hummingbird Café, sipping their cups of coffee as they perused the photos that E.J. Hemingway happened to be in.
"You know, he really does have handsome eyes," admitted Joe as he sipped his coffee.
"It's weird to see him without his goggles on," responded Mallory, slurping from hers. "If he wasn't too much of a pansy to come into the building, I'd make him stand right here so we can compare."
"Have you seen him without his goggles on before?" Asked Joe. "I mean, I haven't. But you're his lady, right? It seems unlikely you'd be someone's lady whose eyes you've never seen."
"First of all, stop saying lady," Mallory retorted.
"Are you not a lady?"
"What am I, an elderly?" She asked, dejected.
"I'm sorry, but is 'lady' an old person word now? I was under the impression it was the opposite of 'gentleman'."
"Well," she shrugged. "I'm not really that either, am I?"
"Fair enough," he sipped his coffee. "So what do his eyes look like now?"
"It's not as interesting as what's under his hat."
"Woah, what's under his hat?" Joe asked, excitedly.
"Now THAT is a secret," she toyed, playfully, putting her index finger up to her lips.
"Aww," he sulked. "So what do I call you then, if you're not his lady? His dame? His lover?"
"Ew," Mallory winced. "What are you, an elderly?"
They sipped their coffees in silence for a minute. Joe took out his yo-yo and started playing with it, trying not to seem elderly.
"It's weird seeing him without his goggles," she repeated. "It's even weirder seeing him all smiley with Sporty Spice here. They seemed so close. Did you know he didn't even invite me to meet his parents?"
"Really?" He sipped his coffee.
"Yeah, he barely was gonna let me meet his brother. It's almost like he thinks I'm gonna embarrass him or something."
"You wouldn't embarrass him?"
"Oh, of course I would. I'm his lady. That's my job."
One of the staff, an older middle-aged woman came up behind them and asked, "you two new in town?"
They turned around to look at her.
"Why yes," answered Joe. "We're here on business. Not sure for how long."
"I see. So you definitely didn't know my daughter, Nick, then?" The woman asked, gesturing at the memorial collage.
"No, why?" Joe asked.
"Just curious," she put her hand on her hip. "You two have been coming here every morning for a week, and every day you stand in front of that collage with your coffees, looking at the pictures."
Mallory cut in, "Joe here loves staring at pictures of teenage girls, ma'am. If you ask me, he's a little sick in the head."
"What!?" Joe growled. "That's not true! That's not true ma'am," he turned back to Nick's mother and pointed at one of the photos with E.J. in it. "We're actually staring at this one teenage boy, and admiring how handsome he is."
Mallory put her hand to her mouth and tried to stifle a laugh, which came out as a snort.
"I mean," he tried to catch himself, as Nick's mom raised one eyebrow. "What I meant to say is that he's got very kind eyes. Wait, hang on."
"I think what he's TRYING to say," helped Mallory. "Is that he's never actually MOLESTED any little boys."
"For Pete's sake, Mallory, stop helping me."
"It's okay to be honest with yourself, Joe. You like teenie wienies, and it's something you're working on fixing about yourself."
"I will kill you in the foot."
"That's why he has the yo-yo."
"I think maybe you should leave," suggested Nick's mom, firmly.
"We're friends of E.J. Hemingway's, ma'am," Joe finally got out. "We're in town with him for work."
Mrs. Thom's gait relaxed, "oh, that makes sense. You haven't seen him with his eyes before the accident. It's weird, right?"
"We're sorry for your loss, by the way," said Joe.
"Say," Mrs. Thom looked around. "E.J. isn't... is he here?"
"He doesn't seem to want to come to this specific café, if that's what you're asking," he answered.
"Sure," she nodded. "Sure. Of course not."
"Do... do you want us to see if he'll come see you?"
"No," she answered firmly. Then, in a less abrasive tone, "no, that's alright. There's nothing to say that hasn't already been said. Me and my husband don't want ever want to see him again if he's not going to take responsibility for his actions."
"What do you mean?" Mallory asked, then figured it out herself. "Oh, cause of the whole... he thinks it was aliens that wrecked the car?"
Mrs. Thom scrunched up her nose and winced when she mentioned it, and wordlessly excused herself back behind the counter.
Joe followed her to the cash register, "ma'am, I'm sorry to ask because this is clearly not a delightful subject for you, but you don't believe in aliens?"
"Not as an excuse for negligence behind the wheel," she sneered, irritated.
"So you haven't seen anything... out of the ordinary lately? Like in the past couple of weeks or so? Potentially alien related?"
She looked at him like he was crazy for a second, then blinked it off, "um.. no. No, of course not. Just normal tourist season stuff. The youths get weirder every year, they're probably the closest thing to aliens we get around here. Coming in here with their hairdos and their cell phones, and ordering drinks with big long French names. What the heck is a mocha-mara-chino?"
"I think that's a blended mocha with maraschino cherries," Joe guessed.
Mrs. Thom shook her head, "youths."
"Youths!" Mallory yelled from across the room, shaking her fist in the air.
"You know, last week we drove by some teenager wandering alone out by the old church yard who'd painted her whole body blue?" Mrs. Thom started.
"What, like a costume?" Joe asked.
"I guess. She was just a tiny little blue girl, and her hair was dyed white, and she was wearing these big clothes that were way too big for her. And she was darting her head around lookin' like she was on drugs or something. Right in the middle of town in broad daylight. Should've called the cops, don't know why I didn't."
"By the old church yard, you said? Where is that at?"
Mrs. Thom thought about it, "What's that street called again? Paper street I think. Corner of 5th and Paper."
"Thank you for your time, ma'am. We'd best be off," Joe spun on his heel and walked briskly out the door.
Mallory sipped her coffee, let out a big sigh, then stormed out after him.
---
"Where are we going?" Mallory asked, keeping pace behind Joe, who was still yo-yoing as he walked up the street.
"We're going to the church yard," he answered.
"What, because some gossipy old broad said she saw a teenager tripping on shrooms there?"
"Could've been a youth on drugs. Could've been the alien we're looking for. Either one would have reasons to be blue and to dart their head around like they're looking at weird things they've never seen before. And if an alien looks like a human with body paint all over, that would explain why nobody's reported any unearthly creatures lately."
"But she saw it a week ago!" Mallory protested as they rounded the corner up 5th street.
"It's a cold lead, admittedly, but it's still a lead," he answered. "It's unlikely we'll find anything. But better safe than sorry."
They continued power walking in relative silence until they reached the church yard. Joe put his yo-yo back in his cargo pocket and pulled out little plastic baggies and a magnifying glass.
He announced, "we're looking for residue or debris. Anything if you can't tell what it is, liquids, powders, that kind of thing. If you find any hair, especially the white kind, grab it. Mallory can examine it with a microscope when we get back, and if we're lucky, we can identify a substance that suggests either drug use, or alien activity."
"I AM Mallory," said Mallory. "Did you forget I was here? Also, what makes you think I'm gonna go snooping all over the ground on my hands and knees like a dog? This is outside of my scope of practice."
Joe took a long, hard look at Mallory. Then, he took his yo-yo back out of his pocket and tossed it to her, "here. Make yourself useful then."
"You want me to yo-yo?" Mallory asked, snidely.
"Let me know if it misbehaves," he answered as he got on his hands and knees and started picking through the grass.
Mallory put the string loop around her finger and flicked the yo-yo, which unwound to the bottom of the string and stopped. "Hey, this thing isn't even spring loaded!" She griped.
"A spring loaded yo-yo would tell me nothing!" He replied.
"I've never yo-yoed without a spring, and this is dumb, and so are you," she said, as she threw the yo-yo at him. It bounced off his head and rolled farther into the grass. He crawled up to go rescue it, when he saw the sunlight gleam off of something else in the yard.
He crawled over to get a good look at it, then pulled out his Professor Whom novelty voice recorder. "I am at Paper Street and 5th, in an old church yard. Stardate supplementary. I have discovered what appears to be a small metallic object. The object is blue, and oddly shaped, with a little hook. It almost looks like an earpiece, for a badly shaped ear." He pulled out a pair of tweezers, lifted it out of the grass, and continued recording. "I may be mistaken about the composition of the object; it might not be metal after all. There appears to be two little glass lenses on one end of it, and perhaps a button. There is a symbol etched into the underside. I don't know what it means, but I recognize it from the alien craft back at the warehouse."
He stood up, and put the earpiece into a little baggy. He then turned over to Mallory, who had walked to the corner and lit a cigarette, and shouted, "Hey Mallory, I found it!"
"What did you find?!" She shouted back. "Did you find your wiener?!"
"No!" Joe responded.
"So you still haven't found your wiener?!"
"No! I mean I didn't lose my...!" He stopped himself. "I found an alien artifact! It matches the ship!"
Mallory walked toward Joe, putting the cigarette out on her arm.
"Yep, that matches the ship, alright. Did you press the button?" she said.
"Not yet. We'll wait for E.J.," replied Joe, excitedly. "But this is great! Now we have some idea what the alien might look like!"
"What, the blue youth?"
"Exactly! I mean, it's not totally one hundred percent that the blue youth dropped this earpiece. But that's what's most likely! And look, it's an earpiece shaped vaguely like a human earpiece! That means the alien has ears vaguely like human ears!"
"I suppose..." Mallory said thoughtfully. "I suppose, if we start asking around about a little blue girl, we might get more responses than just asking about vague paranormal stuff. At least if we track down who she was, we can verify whether or not she's an alien, right?"
"Correct!" Joe giggled. "Let's go get this back to the warehouse and have a party!"
"Yes! Party!" Mallory pumped her fist. "Finally, you're speaking my language! I'm gonna raise the roof like it was my own flesh and blood!"
---
Posie woke up and drowsily lifted her head off the pillow, cursing herself for having drooled a little. Her arm was draped over Melvin's sleeping body, which was facing away from hers. She could feel him gently breathing on his hand, and it kind of tickled. She slowly and nervously pulled it away. One of her legs was trapped in between his legs, and her foot was on top of one of his feet. Little flecks of dust danced in the morning sunbeams between the window and night hat. She looked around the room and saw Sok curled up into a ball on the couch, face buried in the cushion. She couldn't see Stu, all zipped up like a cocoon in his sleeping bag by the table, but she heard his snores, which she found delightful.
This had been their sleeping arrangement for about a week now. She and Stu hadn't been to their own houses for longer than it takes to gather supplies; blankets, clothes, food, shampoo, toothbrushes, books for Sok to scan, more booze, etc. Normally she didn't wake up before anyone. Melvin usually wakes up first for work and makes breakfast for everyone; and between his obnoxious alarm clock blasting "Chic 'n' Stu" by System of a Down, and his general blundering around in the kitchen, everyone else wakes up pretty soon afterwards. But this morning he didn't have to work. This time, she caught them all sleeping.
She let herself lay there for a few minutes while her eyes adjusted. She was reminded of times when the three of them had all been camping together. Because of their mixed genders, they'd never all had a proper sleepover inside of a house, but they were permitted on occasion to share a tent. Of course, this whole situation didn't quite give her the same vibes as camping or a sleepover. Not while they were all here under one roof until further notice, sharing a kitchen and a bathroom with zero supervision. Not while they've all put their differences aside to take care of a whole person who's brand new to this world, and keep her safe from danger. Most importantly, not while she was falling asleep and waking up with her limbs all tangled with Melvin's.
The word "family" briefly crossed her mind, but she quickly snuffed it out. It was still the summer twilight between high school and adulthood, after all. While she'd hoped for more play outings, less responsibilities, and far lower stakes, she wasn't entirely disappointed with how they were spending their time. And even though her surprise romance with Melvin was more comfortable and natural than she was expecting, it was also a different and more foreign dynamic than their elongated friendship had been, and she was far from ready to utter a word so stuffy and grown-up as "family".
She scoffed at herself and attempted to slowly inch out of the bed. Sliding her leg out from between his was the most tedious part, and she was afraid the whole time she might pull at his leg hairs. When she got to the end of her leg and slipped her foot out, she lost her balance and fell off the bed. She quickly looked around to make sure the "thud" didn't wake anyone up. It didn't. She stood up to her feet, victorious, and tiptoed to the kitchen area, thinking maybe she could surprise everyone by being the one to make breakfast this time. Melvin had been preparing these big, elaborate breakfasts; large omelets with little fancy seasoning leaves on top, biscuits and gravy with bacon in it somehow, stacks of pancakes with all kinds of berries and peanut butter chocolates and even more bacon cooked into them... Stuff he no doubt picked up from having stoners for parents. She didn't know how to make anything like that.
She also didn't know where any of his pots and pans were kept. She opened a cupboard in the corner at eye level and there were shoes in it. "Okay, new plan," she whispered to herself, as she grabbed a pair of flip flops from the cupboard. She tiptoed to her clothes box, pulled a pair of lime green overalls over the top of her neon pink pajamas, and tiptoed right out of the house with the flip flops in her hand.
----
Melvin, Stu, and Sok woke up to the smell of breakfast, and the sound of Posie hitting a triangle and announcing "breakfast is ready!"
Sok woke up immediately and was sitting on the floor at the table before Posie even had time to blink.
"That smells delicious!" Melvin smiled as he slothed out of the bed.
Stu unzipped half his sleeping bag and sat up, already at the table, delighted to discover a large mixing bowl filled with a breakfast scramble that included eggs, cheese, peppers, sausage bits, whole biscuits, and topped with gravy.
"Where did you buy this from?" Melvin asked.
"What do you mean?" Posie responded defensively, wearing an apron that read "kiss the cook's ass", and one single oven mitt. "How do you know I didn't cook it myself?"
"Because there's like five to-go boxes on the counter," he said.
"Oh, darnit," she cursed, and put the triangle down.
"Hey, don't let me harsh your buzz," he said, encouragingly as he dished himself up. "I really appreciate you buying breakfast for us! And it's cool that you mixed it all together in a giant bowl like this. Makes me feel like I'm on a farm."
"What farms have you been to that do this?" Asked Stu.
"Compliment accepted!" She announced cheerfully as she bounced down on the floor next to him. They shared a quick peck on the lips before they started eating.
Stu grinned widely, "well look at you two. With the morning kisses, and the breakfast aprons, and the moon hitting your eye like a big pizza pie."
"Speaking of pizza pie, when are you gonna find a nice guy, so we can all double date?" Posie deflected.
"Hey, don't rush me," he said. "I'm in no hurry. It's not any port in a storm for me, no sir. I'm an old fashioned, yet politically progressive, small town boy, and I want to take things nice and slow. I want to court. I want to feel like a special princess. Until then, Sok can be my double date. Right, Sok?"
Sok picked her face off her plate and looked at him, her cheeks full of scramble, and her face covered in gravy. She swallowed and said, "Shtoo".
"That's a very mature sounding and admirable attitude," Melvin said. "But you'll never find mister right if you're waiting for him to find you hiding out here. Take a page out of Posie and I's book, cause we're basically the most perfect couple ever. You want to go where the people are. You want to see... wanna see them dancing. Walking around on those... what's that word again? Gay club dance floors!"
"I thought you were going in a different direction with that," said Posie. "Like a Little Mermaid direction."
Stu shook his head, "Absolutely none of that was a page out of your book. You two have been dating a week, and you didn't meet because you went out clubbing all the time."
"All I'm saying is that the more people you meet and express an interest in, the more likely it is you'll actually meet someone great who wants what you want," Melvin elaborated. "I know my wisdom isn't as good as gay wisdom, or even as good as actual experience, but there you go. It is what it is."
"Well, I HAVE been talking to this guy I met online, who plays the contrabass balalaika," Stu offered.
"Did you say Contra baseball?" Posie asked. "Is that like a video game themed baseball game?"
"No, I thought the same thing. It's actually contrabass-ball. It's like regular baseball, only lower," explained Melvin.
"You two are perfect for each other," Stu laughed. "It's almost like you grew up together-"
Stu was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Who-?" Melvin started.
"Hide," Stu said to Sok, as he pulled her into the bathroom and shut the door.
Posie stood silently by the table as Melvin opened the door.
It was E.J..
"Hey, Melvin! Good to see you!" He punched his brother in the arm, smiling. "Mind if I come in for a minute?"
"Oh well, now's not really the best time," Melvin motioned at his boxer shorts and night hat, to indicate he'd only just woken up.
"Why not?" E.J. stopped smiling and leaned in close to Melvin's face. "Are you hiding something?"
"What? What would... what would make you think... that I was... hiding... something..." Melvin stammered nervously as he slowly closed the door. E.J. stopped the door and forced his way in.
"Aha!" He shouted, smiling again. "Posie Pillow! I knew you were hiding something! You've two have been sharing a bed, I see! Naughty naughty!" He turned to Melvin, "don't worry, I won't tell mom." He turned to the table, "well look at you two, being all domestic and making breakfast! Well, pretending to anyways. I can tell this is from a restaurant." He sat down on the floor at the table and helped himself to some of the scramble. "He hasn't got you trying to make breakfast for him, has he? You know my brother here is a phenomenal breakfast cook."
"Oh," blushed Posie. "Y-yeah! No, he's made me breakfast all this week."
"Pity I chose to-day to sneak up on you, then" E.J. said through a mouthful of egg. "No offense."
"None taken. I didn't make this," she said. Right then, she spotted Sok's earpiece on the floor by the bed. Her heart jumped into her throat.
"Why DID you come here?" Melvin asked.
"What, can't a brother drop by for breakfast on your day off?" E.J. wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up. "I guess I felt bad is all. I feel like we never talk anymore. I heard through mom and dad that you and Pillow started dating. That used to be the kind of thing you'd tell me. I want grandkids by the way," he turned to point at Posie, who was casually inching closer to the bed.
She stopped in her tracks and smiled at him. 'I can't tell where he's looking in those goggles, and it's stressing me out,' she cursed internally.
Melvin gestured for his attention, "you're my brother. If you don't have grandkids, that's your own fault." The two brothers laughed, and Posie took advantage of the moment to kick the earpiece under the bed.
"Seriously though," said E.J. "Practice safe sex."
"Oh, well we haven't actually had any, um..." Melvin trailed off.
E.J. looked at him, then looked at Posie, then back at him. "Really?"
"You're one to talk! About having to hear about things indirectly!" Melvin socked his brother in the arm. "I had to learn about Mallory from mom and dad too, and I still haven't even met her yet."
"That's different," E.J. explained.
"How?"
"Because we all know Posie. She's practically part of the family already."
"And how is Mallory ever gonna get there if you never bring her around?" Melvin put his hand on his hip and did his best impression of their mother.
"How indeed," E.J. answered. "I guess she won't."
"You really think I'm part of the family?" Posie asked.
"Of course!" E.J. smiled at her. "You have my blessing. Grandkids. Reminder."
Melvin punched him in the arm, "hey, are you planning on dumping Mallory?"
"Ouch! No?"
"Then set up a dinner. Me and Posie, and you and Mallory. I want to meet her."
"You probably don't," E.J. winced. "She's cantankerous."
"I'm cantankerous," Melvin replied, not actually knowing what the word cantankerous meant. "Set it up."
"No, I mean she's not friendly," he insisted. "She probably won't want to come. Hey can I use your bathroom?"
Posie and Melvin looked at each other.
"Uhhhmmm..." Melvin tried to think of an excuse. "No you can't, because that isn't a bathroom! It's just a door to nowhere, I'm afraid." He failed.
"Stu is in there," Posie jumped in. "And he's had some food poisoning, so he'll be in there for awhile."
"Really?" E.J. looked at the breakfast food he just ate.
"No, not from this food," Posie reassured him. "You know, I just used the public restroom by the park out there not too long ago. It's not far. I highly recommend it. It has great flush pressure. Five stars all around."
E.J. looked long and hard at her. She'd been exhibiting curious micro-expressions, but he couldn't really get a lock on what they meant. He'd already discovered they were sleeping in the same bed together, so why did it still seem like they were hiding something? He knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you okay in there?"
"I'm okay, it's just a little food poisoning!" Stu said from behind the door. "I'll be awhile. Maybe all day. How's the witch hunt?"
"I'm glad you asked!" E.J. smiled. "I always thought more people should take an interest in my work. It's very interesting. Anyways, we're actually hunting aliens, and it's going fantastic!"
"Oh good! You should get back to that."
"You know what? You're right," E.J. started toward the door. "Now that you mention it, Joe texted me last night saying he found something important, and I never found out what it was."
"Let me know!" Stu shouted from behind the door.
"Well, he said it was some kind of ear piece, like a hearing aid. I dunno, I'll have a look."
Posie and Melvin looked at each other. Earpiece?
Melvin looked back at E.J., "I'm not kidding about dinner with Mallory. Set it up."
"Fine, fine," he grumbled as he closed the door behind him.
Posie watched out the window for E.J. to leave the driveway, and once he was out of sight, he gave the all clear for Stu and Sok to leave the bathroom. Sok zipped back to her breakfast plate.
"That was a close one," Melvin commented.
"Where's Sok's earpiece?" Stu asked urgently, looking around on the floor.
"I kicked it under the bed," Posie answered.
"Okay good," Stu exhaled. "He said they found an earpiece and I panicked."
"Well..." Melvin's stomach sank. "She actually did have two of them. And I think one of them was with her when she escaped last week."
"Okay, well let's check the apartment real quick and see if it's still here," Posie suggested. They complied.
They couldn't find it.
"Don't panic," Melvin said, slightly panicky. "I can check the church yard. Pretty sure that's where it ended up. If it's not there, and E.J.'s partner really did find it, it's not the end of the world, right? They already have the ship, and they haven't managed to find us with that, so what's another little gadget, right?"
"They have the ship!?" Posie gasped.
Stu and Melvin looked at each other in shame.
Stu finally answered, "yeah, neither of us could really haul it, and we didn't know where to park it, so we left it in the woods."
"We DID go back for it," Melvin defended himself. "I mean, not that we had a plan or anything."
"It was already gone anyways," Stu finished. "Definitely E.J. has it."
"Nothing changes, alright guys?" Melvin said. "E.J. and his crew might be here for awhile longer than expected, but we need to stay put and keep Sok safe here. Most importantly, we've got to behave like everything's normal. Eventually, hopefully, he'll have to give up the hunt."
"We might do well to think of an inconspicuous alternative location, in case this apartment becomes compromised," Stu suggested.
"Are you guys serious?" Posie asked, flabbergasted. "We need to find out where they're keeping that ship, or Sok is going to be stuck here permanently!"
They all looked at Sok, who'd gone back to the table to continue eating breakfast. She realized they were all looking at her, and she stopped chewing and slowly waved.
---
At the warehouse, Joe Michaels drew the symbol that was etched into the side of the earpiece onto a small piece of paper, then put it on his desk, among a messy array of other symbols, drawings, and notes. He had laid various lengths of yarn on top of some of them, connecting similar symbols.
"We should get a corkboard in here," he suggested. "This would be a lot easier with some thumbtacks."
"I feel like you're trying too hard to look like a detective," Mallory sat on her chemistry desk blowing bubblegum bubbles.
"What are you talking about?" Joe asked. "This is a classic detective tool."
"Correction: It's a classic television detective tool," she hopped off the desk and moseyed over to look at his work.
"It's a real thing, I promise. It helps me visualize the clues and make connections."
"And what connections have you made?" She looked him in the eye and blew another gum bubble.
He looked down at the papers and yarn and scratched his neck, embarrassed. "Well, er... I mean.... it's not really proving as useful for translating foreign languages."
"That's what I thought," she picked up a sticky note where he'd drawn a big red question mark, wrapped her gum in it, and put it back on his desk.
They both turned their head toward the front door.
"Did you hear that?" Mallory asked.
"It sounded like a car door slammed," Joe answered.
E.J. burst through the door in a fury, yelled "GREEDY MORONS!", and stormed into the center of the warehouse. He kicked the fish rocket, and was unsatisfied with the results, so he stormed over to the desk and swept all the papers and yarn onto the floor, growling.
"Hey!" Joe protested. "What is your problem!?"
"My problem!?" E.J. growled. "My problem is that these shortsighted nutsacks at the white house or the pentagon or wherever couldn't smell an opportunity if it farted directly beneath their nose!"
"Okay, calm down," Joe turned to Mallory, who was chewing more gum with her mouth open, fanning her face, and bouncing one of her legs a little on the heel. "Mallory, are you getting aroused by his temper tantrum?"
"Oh you know me," she said without looking at him. "Any storm in a port."
E.J. marched in a circle around the outside of the fish rocket, grumbling about greedy, shortsighted nutsacks, then returned to Joe and Mallory, and continued growling his exposition.
"I just got off the phone with them, and they're not going to send in an expert to help us decipher the language. They can't spare the expense."
"You're kidding!" Exclaimed Joe.
"I'm not. They're still going to pay us normally while we're out here hunting for the alien, but they're gonna cut us off whenever we stop making progress, and then they're gonna repossess the rocket. I guess they're fine paying for an expert if it's with THEM, but they won't work together with US!" E.J. was gesticulating wildly, and gritting his teeth.
"So they're... squeezing us?" Mallory asked, emphasizing the word "Squeezing" as suggestively as she could.
"Dang right, they're squeezing us!" E.J. confirmed. "We're brilliant, the three of us! And they don't take us seriously, because we willingly take all these fringe reports! But you know what? We take these fringe cases because maybe, JUST MAYBE, something like THIS happens, and the report happens to be REAL! And we DESERVE to see this thing through to the END! IT'S NOT FAIR!!"
"Those are all good points," Joe said.
"Honestly," E.J. continued. "I don't even give two shakes of a lambs tail if they appreciate us or not. What REALLY irks me is that nobody knows how many aliens there are! We could be on the brink of an invasion! They SHOULD be much more interested in getting this sorted out quickly! Do those shortsighted nutbags really care that much less about saving the world than they do about getting all the credit for it? That they would delay the discovery of crucial information JUST so they don't have to include peons like us in the press release??"
"What are we gonna do?" Joe asked.
"I don't know," E.J. growled.
"I'm sure my big strong man will think of something," Mallory slithered behind him and wormed her arms around his shoulders, draping him like a human cape. She bit his ear, and said, "in the meantime, why don't we slip into the spacecraft for a little probing?"
"Gross!" Joe protested. "Please don't do that in the spaceship."
"You can take your anger out on me," she continued, suggestively. "Punish me a little. Make me wish I was never born."
"That reminds me," E.J. said. "Melvin wants to do a double date with us."
"NNOOOO!!!" She flung herself off of him and onto the ground, melodramatically. "GOOPY RELATIONSHIP STUFF!! I WISH I WAS NEVER BORN!"
"I'm confused," Joe scratched his head. "I thought you said you wanted to meet his family?"
"I wanted to meet his family when he didn't want me to," she replied. "Now he wants me to and I don't wanna. It's really very simple, Joe."
"I'm sorry," E.J. deflated. "I got all wound up. You guys had something you wanted to show me?"
---
Melvin, Posie, and Stu went on a long walk with Sok along some of the more obscure hiking trails on the river. They'd been dressing her in large hats, giant sunglasses and breathable shawls so that they could bring her outdoors without calling attention to themselves. Sok wanted to explore, and despite her patient and compliant manner, they were concerned that if they kept her cooped up too long she might feel like a prisoner. She bounced around the hiking trail getting excited about the trees and bushes and bird noises like a little child. Her translator earpiece had listened to enough of their conversations that it'd become calibrated for spoken English (rather than merely written English), and she was able to wear it in her actual ear. Despite the easier communication flow, Sok didn't seem to grasp the fact that she wasn't really safe outside the apartment, to the lament of her friends.
She seemed to understand them when they explained how she needs to hide when someone knocks on the door, and that Melvin's brother wants to "hurt her on purpose". She even seemed to express solemnity and concern about it. But she didn't seem as frightened as she was interested, and that made them feel uneasy about how seriously she was taking the situation.
"Why he to wish me to hurt?" She asked. She was still speaking through the earpiece, but instead of projecting the translation into written English on the trees or something, it spoke the translation into her ear for her to repeat. She fumbled through the pronunciations, and had a VERY thick accent (as though someone with a Korean accent was learning English from someone with a thick Russian accent), but they could still understand her for the most part.
"He's afraid of you," Stu answered.
"Why?" She asked.
"Because he doesn't know you. People fear what they don't know."
"What is 'fear'?" She asked. "It is not to translate."
"We run into a lot of walls like this," Posie noticed. "It's always on something negative too. There's no translation for 'fear' or 'sadness'. There's a translation for 'hurt', I guess, but it's like she isn't wrapping her head around the concept of deliberate harm."
"She understood 'war'," Melvin offered.
"Did she?" Stu asked. "All she ever did was insist her people weren't at war. Do we really know what she thinks war is?"
"I to see and to understand," Sok interjected. "You to hurt, so you to learn. You to learn to avoid. 'Fear' is to avoid, yes?"
"That's one way of putting it," answered Stu. "Suppose there's a rock, and you hurt your foot on it. If you 'fear' the rock, or you 'fear' hurting your foot on the rock a second time, you learn to avoid the rock. But you can also get rid of the rock entirely. You can throw the rock off a cliff so you no longer CAN hurt your foot on it. It's no longer a 'fear'; you can put it out of your head."
"I to see," Sok nodded. "Malween's brother not to hurt his foot on Sok. Why he to wish to throw me off cliff?"
"I like how she figured out metaphors and hypotheticals, but all her verbs are still in present tense," Posie giggled.
"Because Malween's... uh.. Melvin's brother..." Stu struggled. "He considers everything he doesn't already know about... a 'fear'. Someone he loved very much died a few years ago, and he doesn't know how it happened. So he treats everything unknown as though he could... hurt his foot on it."
"Just call it like it is," Melvin interjected. "E.J. wants to kill you, because he thinks you or one of your people killed his girlfriend, and he's afraid you'll kill him too."
Several words Stu and Melvin said didn't translate, so Sok took a moment to try and get a handle on what they meant using context and tone.
"Is kull to hurt?" She asked.
"Kull?" asked Melvin.
"She means 'kill'," Posie said.
"No way," Stu marveled. "You have a word for death, right?"
"Yes," said Sok. "We to have word for... stop?"
She looked quizzically at Stu.
"Stop?" Stu repeated.
Sok heard the translation in her earpiece and grew even more confused. "Stop," she repeated.
"Death," said Posie. Sok looked at her like a light bulb clicked on in her head.
"Stop!" Repeated Sok gleefully.
"That's funny," Posie said.
"What's funny?" Asked Melvin. "What's happening?"
"I think both the words 'death' and 'stop' are translating as the same word in her earpiece," Posie explained. "And that word translates back into English most closely as 'stop'."
"Are you serious?" Stu was getting annoyed. "Does that mean she doesn't have a word for death?"
"She probably just uses the same word for both, and distinguishes between the concepts based on context."
"You sound so smart and hot," said Melvin, kissing her on the cheek. "Like a hot teacher or something."
Posie blushed, "compliment accepted!"
Stu tried approaching it from another angle. "Where do your people believe you go when you die?" He asked.
"We do not," answered Sok.
"You do not die? Or you do not believe?" Stu asked.
"You stop?" Sok pointed at Stu.
The three humans looked at each other.
Stu answered, "yes. We stop. We die."
Sok considered this.
Then she got distracted.
"Boosh!" she shouted and pointed ahead of them on the hiking trail.
They all looked, but didn't see anything other than tree branches rustling in the wind.
"Did you see a boosh?" Melvin asked.
Sok grinned wide, and said, "you to sit." She sat herself on the ground in the middle of the trail. The three humans sat down as well, curious.
Sok didn't like to say anything that took too long to say, because whatever she said, she had to say twice. Once in her own language, and once repeating the English translation as it was fed into her ear. She worked through it in chunks and they had to stop and ask questions a lot. She told them about boosh, and explained that you can't quite see them in the normal sense. They are guardians over planets, but they don't exactly live on them, so much as follow them around in space. There are always a multitude of them. She encountered one that was "broken" on a space ship that came from earth, and it attacked her and her crew. She didn't know why until she got here to Earth to investigate, and discovered lots of these creatures both broken and whole. They were all fighting each other. She didn't see that at first, because it's so hard to see them if you don't know what you're looking for. When she finally saw what was happening, it broke her heart. That's when Melvin found her on the church yard.
She worked out where she was as well, based on this information. Her people had only recently left their own planet, but they already had some legends about other peoples on other planets. She'd heard of a planet of people who left their home world and built a space city that could survive the end of the universe. She'd heard of another planet of people who lived in shells and grew their homes on the sides of cliffs. She also heard of a planet whose boosh had become broken and volatile. These broken boosh caused catastrophic damage on several planets. The planet that these boosh were supposed to be the guardians of had to be sealed off, so that boosh could not go in or out, until the problem could be better managed. This planet was no longer accessible, and nobody but the boosh knew where it was. She worked out that this hidden boosh war zone must be Earth. She figured that a broken boosh must have managed to escape Earth's captivity as a stowaway on a human space ship, and then "stopped" the original crew, leaving the vessel in a free-float, where she found it.
"They to keep this battle secret from you," she said. "Battle to be silent secret in the air. I can to see you not to go with no damage."
"Did you just call us damaged?" Posie asked.
"You to stop," Sok answered. "You to call to stop a 'fear'. Malween's brother to hurt on purpose, for to avoid to stop."
"Can someone translate her translation? I heard my name," Melvin asked.
"She did call us damaged," Posie told Melvin. "She says we're effected by the secret boosh war. She thinks that's why we die. And therefore, because E.J. is afraid of death and wants to throw death off a cliff... so to speak.. that's why he wants to kill the aliens."
"Yeah, that's what I've been trying to tell you!" Stu said to Sok. "He wants to kill you, because he thinks he's protecting Earth from YOU killing US. Such a roundabout way of getting there, but I'm glad you made it."
Sok grunted, embarrassed.
Then she got distracted by a butterfly.
Stu turned to Posie and Melvin, and asked under his breath, "So boosh aren't real, right? Are we all in agreement? That boosh are imaginary?"
"I don't know anything, I know that much," said Melvin.
"Well put, Socrates," Stu teased.
"It does sound a little far fetched," admitted Posie. "That we only die because we're casualties of an invisible alien war? You know what that sounds like?"
"Don't say it," groaned Stu.
Melvin perked up, "I know what it sounds like!"
"No, please shut up," Stu put his face in the palms of his hands.
Posie finished, "it sounds like Sok has a religion."
"Aha!" Melvin shouted. "You owe me money!"
"Nonono," Stu protested. "A religion isn't a deity. That was the bet. One or more deities."
"Bah!" Melvin stood up and continued down the trail.
Posie stood up and followed him; Stu stayed behind with Sok.
"Hey there, handsome," Posie catcalled.
"Compliment accepted," Melvin teased.
"This is a lovely walk we're having," she said. "Lovely weather."
"I'm your boyfriend. Stop talking to me about the weather like I'm some smoker at a bus stop."
"That's really specific," she said. "Is boyfriend really the right word?"
"What do you mean? Are you having second thoughts?"
"No, I'm not," she reassured him. "It's just that the label sounds a little juvenile, doesn't it? But I can't really think of another word that adults would use when they're dating each other."
"You're overthinking it," Melvin said. "I think adults say stuff like 'we're dating' or 'we're exclusive'. But I think they're just being hipsters. Like, it's 'cooler' to be adult, and say adult things and eat spicier foods and go to war. That kind of stuff makes adulthood seem so childish. That's why I like scooping ice cream. It keeps me grounded."
"I never thought of it like that. I like it," she smiled. "I like you."
"Yeah? You still like me a week later?" He smiled back.
"Yes," she declared. "Though we don't really get a lot of alone time, with Sok and Stu always hanging around. The situation is a little weird."
"My life isn't usually like this," he promised.
"Yeah, I know," she said. "I've been around. I've seen your life. I've seen your penis already."
Melvin blushed, "yeah, you and everyone else in Miss Waffle's second grade class. Get over it."
Posie took his hand as they walked, "We've come a long way since then. We've become best friends, and now we're dating, and harboring an alien in a studio apartment. I couldn't have in my wildest dreams predicted that."
Melvin smiled, "I guess when I imagined being with you romantically, I didn't really imagine the details. But if I had, I doubt I would've imagined it this way. I CERTAINLY wouldn't have imagined I'd be the sole responsible and employed leaseholder and caretaker of the three of us. I'm not historically that into responsibility."
"I know how you feel. A week ago, I was so stressed out about nothing," she said. "I was worried about the future, and getting all down on myself about who I am. It all seems so silly now, like I was just... so self-absorbed, in a really negative toxic way. I think we all stepped up and became our own better selves for Sok."
'What are you saying?' She thought. 'You're not better. You're still not being ambitious or making decisions for yourself.'
'I made a decision to date Melvin, didn't I?' She thought back at herself. 'I made a decision to stick around and help take care of Sok!'
'You got dumped by someone who let you come along for the ride, then you had a huge depressive episode trying to carve your own path solo, so you jumped into a another relationship with another guy. Not just any guy, literally the first guy you knew for sure would take you as a girlfriend if you put yourself on the table. The safest possible guy. That's not a decision. That's a decision not to make a decision. That decision doesn't even pass the Bechdel test.'
'I'm not listening to you!'
"Lord have mercy!" She said out loud.
"What?" Melvin looked at her.
"Oh nothing. Something I say when I feel myself getting too negative," she answered. "Hey, kiss me."
"Yes, ma'am."
----
----
At the warehouse, Joe Michaels drew the symbol that was etched into the side of the earpiece onto a small piece of paper, then put it on his desk, among a messy array of other symbols, drawings, and notes. He had laid various lengths of yarn on top of some of them, connecting similar symbols.
"We should get a corkboard in here," he suggested. "This would be a lot easier with some thumbtacks."
"I feel like you're trying too hard to look like a detective," Mallory sat on her chemistry desk blowing bubblegum bubbles.
"What are you talking about?" Joe asked. "This is a classic detective tool."
"Correction: It's a classic television detective tool," she hopped off the desk and moseyed over to look at his work.
"It's a real thing, I promise. It helps me visualize the clues and make connections."
"And what connections have you made?" She looked him in the eye and blew another gum bubble.
He looked down at the papers and yarn and scratched his neck, embarrassed. "Well, er... I mean.... it's not really proving as useful for translating foreign languages."
"That's what I thought," she picked up a sticky note where he'd drawn a big red question mark, wrapped her gum in it, and put it back on his desk.
They both turned their head toward the front door.
"Did you hear that?" Mallory asked.
"It sounded like a car door slammed," Joe answered.
E.J. burst through the door in a fury, yelled "GREEDY MORONS!", and stormed into the center of the warehouse. He kicked the fish rocket, and was unsatisfied with the results, so he stormed over to the desk and swept all the papers and yarn onto the floor, growling.
"Hey!" Joe protested. "What is your problem!?"
"My problem!?" E.J. growled. "My problem is that these shortsighted nutsacks at the white house or the pentagon or wherever couldn't smell an opportunity if it farted directly beneath their nose!"
"Okay, calm down," Joe turned to Mallory, who was chewing more gum with her mouth open, fanning her face, and bouncing one of her legs a little on the heel. "Mallory, are you getting aroused by his temper tantrum?"
"Oh you know me," she said without looking at him. "Any storm in a port."
E.J. marched in a circle around the outside of the fish rocket, grumbling about greedy, shortsighted nutsacks, then returned to Joe and Mallory, and continued growling his exposition.
"I just got off the phone with them, and they're not going to send in an expert to help us decipher the language. They can't spare the expense."
"You're kidding!" Exclaimed Joe.
"I'm not. They're still going to pay us normally while we're out here hunting for the alien, but they're gonna cut us off whenever we stop making progress, and then they're gonna repossess the rocket. I guess they're fine paying for an expert if it's with THEM, but they won't work together with US!" E.J. was gesticulating wildly, and gritting his teeth.
"So they're... squeezing us?" Mallory asked, emphasizing the word "Squeezing" as suggestively as she could.
"Dang right, they're squeezing us!" E.J. confirmed. "We're brilliant, the three of us! And they don't take us seriously, because we willingly take all these fringe reports! But you know what? We take these fringe cases because maybe, JUST MAYBE, something like THIS happens, and the report happens to be REAL! And we DESERVE to see this thing through to the END! IT'S NOT FAIR!!"
"Those are all good points," Joe said.
"Honestly," E.J. continued. "I don't even give two shakes of a lambs tail if they appreciate us or not. What REALLY irks me is that nobody knows how many aliens there are! We could be on the brink of an invasion! They SHOULD be much more interested in getting this sorted out quickly! Do those shortsighted nutbags really care that much less about saving the world than they do about getting all the credit for it? That they would delay the discovery of crucial information JUST so they don't have to include peons like us in the press release??"
"What are we gonna do?" Joe asked.
"I don't know," E.J. growled.
"I'm sure my big strong man will think of something," Mallory slithered behind him and wormed her arms around his shoulders, draping him like a human cape. She bit his ear, and said, "in the meantime, why don't we slip into the spacecraft for a little probing?"
"Gross!" Joe protested. "Please don't do that in the spaceship."
"You can take your anger out on me," she continued, suggestively. "Punish me a little. Make me wish I was never born."
"That reminds me," E.J. said. "Melvin wants to do a double date with us."
"NNOOOO!!!" She flung herself off of him and onto the ground, melodramatically. "GOOPY RELATIONSHIP STUFF!! I WISH I WAS NEVER BORN!"
"I'm confused," Joe scratched his head. "I thought you said you wanted to meet his family?"
"I wanted to meet his family when he didn't want me to," she replied. "Now he wants me to and I don't wanna. It's really very simple, Joe."
"I'm sorry," E.J. deflated. "I got all wound up. You guys had something you wanted to show me?"
---
Melvin, Posie, and Stu went on a long walk with Sok along some of the more obscure hiking trails on the river. They'd been dressing her in large hats, giant sunglasses and breathable shawls so that they could bring her outdoors without calling attention to themselves. Sok wanted to explore, and despite her patient and compliant manner, they were concerned that if they kept her cooped up too long she might feel like a prisoner. She bounced around the hiking trail getting excited about the trees and bushes and bird noises like a little child. Her translator earpiece had listened to enough of their conversations that it'd become calibrated for spoken English (rather than merely written English), and she was able to wear it in her actual ear. Despite the easier communication flow, Sok didn't seem to grasp the fact that she wasn't really safe outside the apartment, to the lament of her friends.
She seemed to understand them when they explained how she needs to hide when someone knocks on the door, and that Melvin's brother wants to "hurt her on purpose". She even seemed to express solemnity and concern about it. But she didn't seem as frightened as she was interested, and that made them feel uneasy about how seriously she was taking the situation.
"Why he to wish me to hurt?" She asked. She was still speaking through the earpiece, but instead of projecting the translation into written English on the trees or something, it spoke the translation into her ear for her to repeat. She fumbled through the pronunciations, and had a VERY thick accent (as though someone with a Korean accent was learning English from someone with a thick Russian accent), but they could still understand her for the most part.
"He's afraid of you," Stu answered.
"Why?" She asked.
"Because he doesn't know you. People fear what they don't know."
"What is 'fear'?" She asked. "It is not to translate."
"We run into a lot of walls like this," Posie noticed. "It's always on something negative too. There's no translation for 'fear' or 'sadness'. There's a translation for 'hurt', I guess, but it's like she isn't wrapping her head around the concept of deliberate harm."
"She understood 'war'," Melvin offered.
"Did she?" Stu asked. "All she ever did was insist her people weren't at war. Do we really know what she thinks war is?"
"I to see and to understand," Sok interjected. "You to hurt, so you to learn. You to learn to avoid. 'Fear' is to avoid, yes?"
"That's one way of putting it," answered Stu. "Suppose there's a rock, and you hurt your foot on it. If you 'fear' the rock, or you 'fear' hurting your foot on the rock a second time, you learn to avoid the rock. But you can also get rid of the rock entirely. You can throw the rock off a cliff so you no longer CAN hurt your foot on it. It's no longer a 'fear'; you can put it out of your head."
"I to see," Sok nodded. "Malween's brother not to hurt his foot on Sok. Why he to wish to throw me off cliff?"
"I like how she figured out metaphors and hypotheticals, but all her verbs are still in present tense," Posie giggled.
"Because Malween's... uh.. Melvin's brother..." Stu struggled. "He considers everything he doesn't already know about... a 'fear'. Someone he loved very much died a few years ago, and he doesn't know how it happened. So he treats everything unknown as though he could... hurt his foot on it."
"Just call it like it is," Melvin interjected. "E.J. wants to kill you, because he thinks you or one of your people killed his girlfriend, and he's afraid you'll kill him too."
Several words Stu and Melvin said didn't translate, so Sok took a moment to try and get a handle on what they meant using context and tone.
"Is kull to hurt?" She asked.
"Kull?" asked Melvin.
"She means 'kill'," Posie said.
"No way," Stu marveled. "You have a word for death, right?"
"Yes," said Sok. "We to have word for... stop?"
She looked quizzically at Stu.
"Stop?" Stu repeated.
Sok heard the translation in her earpiece and grew even more confused. "Stop," she repeated.
"Death," said Posie. Sok looked at her like a light bulb clicked on in her head.
"Stop!" Repeated Sok gleefully.
"That's funny," Posie said.
"What's funny?" Asked Melvin. "What's happening?"
"I think both the words 'death' and 'stop' are translating as the same word in her earpiece," Posie explained. "And that word translates back into English most closely as 'stop'."
"Are you serious?" Stu was getting annoyed. "Does that mean she doesn't have a word for death?"
"She probably just uses the same word for both, and distinguishes between the concepts based on context."
"You sound so smart and hot," said Melvin, kissing her on the cheek. "Like a hot teacher or something."
Posie blushed, "compliment accepted!"
Stu tried approaching it from another angle. "Where do your people believe you go when you die?" He asked.
"We do not," answered Sok.
"You do not die? Or you do not believe?" Stu asked.
"You stop?" Sok pointed at Stu.
The three humans looked at each other.
Stu answered, "yes. We stop. We die."
Sok considered this.
Then she got distracted.
"Boosh!" she shouted and pointed ahead of them on the hiking trail.
They all looked, but didn't see anything other than tree branches rustling in the wind.
"Did you see a boosh?" Melvin asked.
Sok grinned wide, and said, "you to sit." She sat herself on the ground in the middle of the trail. The three humans sat down as well, curious.
Sok didn't like to say anything that took too long to say, because whatever she said, she had to say twice. Once in her own language, and once repeating the English translation as it was fed into her ear. She worked through it in chunks and they had to stop and ask questions a lot. She told them about boosh, and explained that you can't quite see them in the normal sense. They are guardians over planets, but they don't exactly live on them, so much as follow them around in space. There are always a multitude of them. She encountered one that was "broken" on a space ship that came from earth, and it attacked her and her crew. She didn't know why until she got here to Earth to investigate, and discovered lots of these creatures both broken and whole. They were all fighting each other. She didn't see that at first, because it's so hard to see them if you don't know what you're looking for. When she finally saw what was happening, it broke her heart. That's when Melvin found her on the church yard.
She worked out where she was as well, based on this information. Her people had only recently left their own planet, but they already had some legends about other peoples on other planets. She'd heard of a planet of people who left their home world and built a space city that could survive the end of the universe. She'd heard of another planet of people who lived in shells and grew their homes on the sides of cliffs. She also heard of a planet whose boosh had become broken and volatile. These broken boosh caused catastrophic damage on several planets. The planet that these boosh were supposed to be the guardians of had to be sealed off, so that boosh could not go in or out, until the problem could be better managed. This planet was no longer accessible, and nobody but the boosh knew where it was. She worked out that this hidden boosh war zone must be Earth. She figured that a broken boosh must have managed to escape Earth's captivity as a stowaway on a human space ship, and then "stopped" the original crew, leaving the vessel in a free-float, where she found it.
"They to keep this battle secret from you," she said. "Battle to be silent secret in the air. I can to see you not to go with no damage."
"Did you just call us damaged?" Posie asked.
"You to stop," Sok answered. "You to call to stop a 'fear'. Malween's brother to hurt on purpose, for to avoid to stop."
"Can someone translate her translation? I heard my name," Melvin asked.
"She did call us damaged," Posie told Melvin. "She says we're effected by the secret boosh war. She thinks that's why we die. And therefore, because E.J. is afraid of death and wants to throw death off a cliff... so to speak.. that's why he wants to kill the aliens."
"Yeah, that's what I've been trying to tell you!" Stu said to Sok. "He wants to kill you, because he thinks he's protecting Earth from YOU killing US. Such a roundabout way of getting there, but I'm glad you made it."
Sok grunted, embarrassed.
Then she got distracted by a butterfly.
Stu turned to Posie and Melvin, and asked under his breath, "So boosh aren't real, right? Are we all in agreement? That boosh are imaginary?"
"I don't know anything, I know that much," said Melvin.
"Well put, Socrates," Stu teased.
"It does sound a little far fetched," admitted Posie. "That we only die because we're casualties of an invisible alien war? You know what that sounds like?"
"Don't say it," groaned Stu.
Melvin perked up, "I know what it sounds like!"
"No, please shut up," Stu put his face in the palms of his hands.
Posie finished, "it sounds like Sok has a religion."
"Aha!" Melvin shouted. "You owe me money!"
"Nonono," Stu protested. "A religion isn't a deity. That was the bet. One or more deities."
"Bah!" Melvin stood up and continued down the trail.
Posie stood up and followed him; Stu stayed behind with Sok.
"Hey there, handsome," Posie catcalled.
"Compliment accepted," Melvin teased.
"This is a lovely walk we're having," she said. "Lovely weather."
"I'm your boyfriend. Stop talking to me about the weather like I'm some smoker at a bus stop."
"That's really specific," she said. "Is boyfriend really the right word?"
"What do you mean? Are you having second thoughts?"
"No, I'm not," she reassured him. "It's just that the label sounds a little juvenile, doesn't it? But I can't really think of another word that adults would use when they're dating each other."
"You're overthinking it," Melvin said. "I think adults say stuff like 'we're dating' or 'we're exclusive'. But I think they're just being hipsters. Like, it's 'cooler' to be adult, and say adult things and eat spicier foods and go to war. That kind of stuff makes adulthood seem so childish. That's why I like scooping ice cream. It keeps me grounded."
"I never thought of it like that. I like it," she smiled. "I like you."
"Yeah? You still like me a week later?" He smiled back.
"Yes," she declared. "Though we don't really get a lot of alone time, with Sok and Stu always hanging around. The situation is a little weird."
"My life isn't usually like this," he promised.
"Yeah, I know," she said. "I've been around. I've seen your life. I've seen your penis already."
Melvin blushed, "yeah, you and everyone else in Miss Waffle's second grade class. Get over it."
Posie took his hand as they walked, "We've come a long way since then. We've become best friends, and now we're dating, and harboring an alien in a studio apartment. I couldn't have in my wildest dreams predicted that."
Melvin smiled, "I guess when I imagined being with you romantically, I didn't really imagine the details. But if I had, I doubt I would've imagined it this way. I CERTAINLY wouldn't have imagined I'd be the sole responsible and employed leaseholder and caretaker of the three of us. I'm not historically that into responsibility."
"I know how you feel. A week ago, I was so stressed out about nothing," she said. "I was worried about the future, and getting all down on myself about who I am. It all seems so silly now, like I was just... so self-absorbed, in a really negative toxic way. I think we all stepped up and became our own better selves for Sok."
'What are you saying?' She thought. 'You're not better. You're still not being ambitious or making decisions for yourself.'
'I made a decision to date Melvin, didn't I?' She thought back at herself. 'I made a decision to stick around and help take care of Sok!'
'You got dumped by someone who let you come along for the ride, then you had a huge depressive episode trying to carve your own path solo, so you jumped into a another relationship with another guy. Not just any guy, literally the first guy you knew for sure would take you as a girlfriend if you put yourself on the table. The safest possible guy. That's not a decision. That's a decision not to make a decision. That decision doesn't even pass the Bechdel test.'
'I'm not listening to you!'
"Lord have mercy!" She said out loud.
"What?" Melvin looked at her.
"Oh nothing. Something I say when I feel myself getting too negative," she answered. "Hey, kiss me."
"Yes, ma'am."
----
Joe Michaels ran to his desk, with E.J. and Mallory following close behind. He grabbed up a sticky note with an alien symbol written on it. Then with his other hand, he aimed the earpiece at it.
"You ready to test this hypothesis?" He asked, anxiously.
"Just do it!" Mallory barked. "I'm not getting any younger! Unless you count my gradual increase in whining and disruptive behavior 'getting younger'."
Joe took a deep breath and pressed his thumb into the button. They watched as a small laser scan line danced over the sticky note symbol. When nothing happened, he pressed it again. This time, it projected a word, in English, back onto the sticky note.
"Did it just translate the word into English?" E.J. asked, excitedly. "I think it did! That settles it! The earpiece is a translator!"
"What does it say?" Mallory asked.
"Move it off of the sticky note," E.J. suggested.
Joe pointed the projection at the wall, and they all read the word: "booger".
"Booger," E.J. said out loud in disbelief.
"Booger," Joe repeated.
"Guys," Mallory said, in awestruck wonder, putting her hands on both their shoulders. "This is the first word we've ever translated from an extra-terrestrial civilization beyond the stars. Isn't it beautiful? Let's just take a moment to breathe it in."
"We should probably keep this to ourselves," Joe muttered.
"We should DEFINITELY keep this to ourselves," E.J. resolved. "If we're going down in history, it's not gonna be anywhere near the word 'booger'. Whatever we translate NEXT should be the official first words translated from an alien language."
Joe grabbed another sticky note and projected another alien symbol translation onto the wall: "to flail".
"Where are you getting these symbols?" E.J. asked.
"From the ship," Joe defended himself.
"It's invocative, at least," Mallory said. "I mean... what it invokes is a rather silly mental image, but I guess it's better than booger."
"Maybe we should stop using my sticky notes," Joe suggested, moving toward the fish rocket. "We'll get some better information if we translate things in context."
"Great idea!" E.J. agreed. "See if you can find what the aliens look like. And if they've got any weaknesses!"
Joe hopped into the cockpit; Mallory and E.J. climbed up the side and poked their heads through the hole. The lights were still there, seemingly just behind the rocket's wall. Joe pushed on the wall where one of the lights was, and the wall brought up a string of symbols, which he then scanned with the earpiece.
He read the translation out loud, "to record. 944.654.22.3.11112. I to decide to follow to jump to travel to original position. I to hunt to discover to learn from what when boosh to break."
"Is this alien poetry?" E.J. theorized.
"I understand most of these words individually," Mallory said.
"Boosh," E.J. read. "I don't know boosh. It either didn't translate, or it's an onomatopoeia."
"What's an onomatopoeia?" Mallory asked.
"It's exactly what it sounds like," answered E.J. He motioned to Joe, "try something else."
Joe pressed on more lights until he found another set of symbols to scan: "to record. 1.1.1.1.1. I to like boys."
They sat in silence for a minute.
Mallory finally asked what they were all thinking, "are we reading the alien's diary?"
"I think we might be reading the alien's diary," Joe affirmed. "It's too early to tell. Not enough unicorn stickers."
"Well, I guess this is at least comprehensible," E.J. said. "We could probably get away with using this as the official first words translated from an alien language."
"Do you think we should?" Joe asked. "I mean, wouldn't that be an invasion of privacy?"
"Joe, what's a little invasion of privacy, compared to a potential invasion of Earth?" E.J. retorted. "Get some perspective."
"Keep reading," Mallory egged Joe on, poking her arm into the hole to point at the ear piece. "I want to know what kind of boys this alien is into. This seems like a fruitful place to shop for role play ideas."
"Ew," Joe said matter-of-factly as he pressed more lights.
----
Melvin, Posie, Stu, and Sok all turned the corner to see a familiar wooden mailbox with the name 'PILLOW' painted on the side, indicating they'd arrived at Posie's family's house. Once they passed the hedges, the full house came into view, and Sok gawked at it. It was one story tall, but the basement was either too high out of the ground, or the ground was too low, revealing where the wood siding ends and the concrete foundation begins. It was painted four different contradictory colors, and the roof was part shingle and part tin. The left side had two bushes under a window with an large empty planter sticking uncomfortably far out. The right side had a door that was too high off the ground, and looked too awkward to be useful as an entry point. The front door had a porch, with two more doors leaning up against it, and some yellow tubes were hanging along the wall, giving the whole house a macaroni-and-finger-paint-art aesthetic. If the art was made by kindergartners, who'd never seen macaroni before, or paint, or glue, or scissors, or art, or hands, or eyes.
"Why don't you two go chill in the bushes," Melvin suggested to Stu and Sok. "While me and Posie go in and get stuff."
"Oh, sure, I see how it is," Stu rolled his eyes. "Me and Scooby Doo will split up, so you and Daphne can get some alone time."
"First of all, you're not Shaggy. If anyone's Shaggy, out of all of us, it's Posie," Melvin started. Posie lifted her pointer finger and got ready to protest, but then she thought about it, shrugged and nodded in agreement.
She said, "Look, I don't think my folks are home, but in case they are, I don't want them to see Sok. And somebody has to stay out here with her. And yeah, frankly, I could use some alone time with... I guess you'd be Fred?"
They all scrunched their noses with displeasure.
"Yeah, I'm not Fred," Melvin refuted.
"Melvin's not Fred," Stu agreed. "I might be Fred."
"I'm not Velma either, I'm telling you that right now," Melvin put his foot down.
"Maybe it's a mistake hitching our wagon to the Scooby Doo cast," Stu speculated.
"Maybe we're more like the Harry Potter gang?" Posie suggested.
"Dibs on Hagrid!" Melvin raised his hand.
Posie blushed, "Oh! I was sorta... I was sorta thinking the two of us could be Ron and Hermione."
"Don't be silly, you don't have to be Ron just cause you're a ginger."
"What? No, I'm not Ron," Posie defended herself.
"Good! Then I'm Hagrid," Melvin smiled.
"Look, are you gonna do this or what?" Stu asked, checking his watch.
"Oh yeah! Let's go!" Posie bounced into the yard toward the door.
"What is... Hagrid? It is not to translate," Sok asked.
"Nothing important," Stu answered. "Wait, did Shaggy translate?"
"Yes," Sok nodded.
"To what?" He asked.
"Hagrid," she said. As soon as she realized what passed through her lips, she gasped and put her hand over her mouth.
---
"Anyone home??" Posie called, once her and Melvin had successfully penetrated the front door.
When there was no answer, they shut it behind them, and made their way past the living room and into the main hallway. Melvin hadn't been there in awhile, but he noticed not much had changed. All the same family photos lined the halls; he lingered a little to look at some old childhood pictures of Posie. Last time he came here and saw these photos, he was a teenager with a secret crush. Something about being here alone with her now, as her adult boyfriend, while her parents were out, made him feel a little on edge.
"Are you sure it's cool I'm here?" He asked Posie.
"What do you mean?" Posie asked. "We're just grabbing some stuff. Something to wear for our double date, and some more booze maybe. I'm almost out of clothes anyways."
"You know there's a communal laundry room in the basement of my building, right?"
"Yes, but I'm uncomfortable with it still."
"Why? It's just a laundry room."
"It's a public space in a basement with no windows, and I'm a lady. You should just come with me the first couple times, and maybe I'll settle in?"
"Sure. Hey, what if your parents come home though?" Melvin looked around, trying to keep as much of the house as possible in his line of vision.
"I'm sure Sok is well hidden out there," she smiled to be reassuring.
"No, I mean, what about me? What are they gonna say if I'm here?"
"Oh," Posie took his hand. "I told you they already know we're dating, right?"
"Well, yeah, that's why I'm worried about it."
"They know I've been sleeping at your place. I don't think you're gonna get shot at."
"Yeah, but I mean, what if your dad tries to have some kind of... talk?"
Posie quietly remembered when she was in middle school and she brought Manic home for the first time. Her dad asked him, "what are your intentions with my daughter?"
Manic replied matter-of-factly, "my intention is to help direct attention toward that which would otherwise limit oneself to the conditions of existence."
Mr. Pillow grumbled something about not understanding kids these days and retreated to the kitchen.
"You know," Posie said to Melvin, once her head was back in present reality. "Just be real with him. They already like you, so I'm sure it'll be fine." She kissed him, and proceeded to her bedroom.
By the time Melvin sauntered in after her, she'd already pulled a duffel bag out from her closet and started shoving clothes into it from her dresser.
Melvin looked around the room. Her closet always looked more like a costume shop than a place to hang clothes. Perhaps the aesthetic was lent to by the adjacent work desk that housed her sewing machine, bedazzler, hot glue gun, and other various tools. There were small, tupperware containers full of beads, marbles, soda can tabs, and other various nic-nacs on every available surface; but despite the attempt at organization, there were also beads and marbles loose on the desk and dresser top and floor.
"Oh, look what you still have," he commented, as he picked up a framed photo of her and Manic at a school dance.
"What?" She looked up from her packing. "Oh that."
"How come you still have a framed photo of an ex?" He tried his best to make it sound like a casual question.
"I dunno," she scratched the back of her neck, and stood to her feet. "I guess I forgot it was there. I mean, I haven't really spent much time in here since you and I started... being a thing. I've mostly been at your place."
"Yeah, that makes sense," he nodded. "But since we're here, now's a good time to toss it, right?" He held it over a small trash receptacle next to her bed.
"Oh, wait-" she put her hand out without thinking, then immediately retracted it.
"Wait?" He asked.
She didn't answer; she stood there, frozen.
"You want me to wait to toss a picture of your ex?"
"I'm so sorry..." She could feel her face turning red. "I didn't mean to... here." She reached out and took the picture frame, opened up the back, and took the picture out. "I want to keep the frame."
She took a long look at the photo. She must've looked at it a thousand times behind the glass without a worry in the world, and now here it was; bare and fragile, dangling over a trash can. Her eyes traced around the image, the way they cleaned up, the way the skin on his face looked when he smiled, the way their elbows looked formally intertwined. She dropped it into the can.
"That took a long time," Melvin pressed, jealously.
"I'm sorry," she said, honestly. "It's just some leftover junk. Please don't make this a big deal."
"Is there any more?" He asked.
"Oh hey, what do you think of this?" She bounced over to the closet and pulled out a fuzzy purple dress with fuzzy dice dangling from the bottom.
"Um, for what?" Melvin asked.
"For our double date," she grinned. "You know this is gonna be our first real date together?"
"Oh yeah, I guess it is," he said. "I hadn't really thought about it. It's kind of more of a recon mission, you know?"
"Well, sure, but that doesn't mean it can't be romantic. Gotta take it where we can get it, right?"
"The dress kind of matches these rubber gloves," he picked up a purple pair of gloves off the floor next to the sewing desk.
"Oh, no those aren't mine, those are-" she stopped herself, but they both knew who the gloves belonged to, so she finished. "Manic's."
"Okay," he sighed, and tossed them into the trash. "Is there anything else that's Manic's in here?"
"Hey," she picked the gloves back out of the trash bin. "That was rude. You didn't ask."
"What are you doing?" He asked, irritated. "What could you possibly still want with your ex's gloves?"
"I don't know!" Posie answered defensively. "I hadn't thought about it. I should think about it before throwing stuff away in general shouldn't I? Maybe he'll want them back?"
"Didn't he move?"
"I hadn't thought about it yet, that's the point!"
"Well, what else is in here? Let's think about it," Melvin started poking around her stuff.
"Melvin, stop!" She stomped her foot. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this? I dated him since middle school, and I only broke up with him a couple weeks ago. I told you from the beginning that the breakup is probably going to take some time for me, but you wanted to date me anyways. I thought you understood that."
"I don't want to hear that," Melvin responded. "I mean, I know, but I still don't want to hear about it. How would you like it if I kept a bunch of stuff from my ex-girlfriend?"
"You don't have an ex-girlfriend."
"And who's fault is that?"
"Are you serious?" Her face was almost as red as her hair now. "How is it my fault you don't have an ex-girlfriend?"
They stared at each other in silence for a minute, pausing to catch their breath.
"It's not," Melvin finally said. "I'm sorry, I don't even know what I'm saying right now."
"Well," Posie sighed. "I wish there was a big red button I could push to clear this stuff out of my room and out of my head, and make it like it never happened for you. I wish there was a button to clear a lot of stuff out of my head to be perfectly honest."
"I just feel like," Melvin was having trouble wrapping his mouth around the words. "I dunno. I feel afraid. I feel like I don't know if you'd go back to him. If he came back, I mean. If he came back and said he made a mistake and wanted to get back together with you, if you'd go back to him and leave me."
"Oh," Posie didn't know how to respond.
He continued, "I guess I feel like I'm more invested in this than you are."
After a minute of thought, Posie said thoughtfully, "what if we had... what if we made love?"
"W-what?" Melvin was caught off guard by the frank suggestion.
"I mean, we'll have to make it quick," She said, lowering her vocal register to try to sound sexier. "cause our friends are in the bushes. But that would make you feel like I'm invested, right? I've never done that with Manic."
"You haven't?"
"Well, we almost did once, but then he started putting a plastic cover on the bed, and laying down newspapers, and it gave me the impression he didn't really want to. Like he was just doing me a gross favor."
"I... I guess this is about as alone as we've ever been," he reasoned, mostly with himself.
Posie started unbuttoning her shirt, "let's make like an oxymoron and be alone together."
"Oh, come on, that is the least sexy line on the planet," Stu said from outside.
Posie and Melvin froze in place for a second, then looked at the bedroom window.
It was open.
Posie pulled her shirt closed, and the two of them poked their head out the window to see Stu and Sok crouched in the bushes. Sok smiled wide when she saw them, and waved excitedly.
"Oh you're in THESE bushes," Melvin said.
"Why was my window open?" Posie wondered aloud.
"Yeah, you guys fail spacial awareness class for to-day," Stu giggled.
"How much did you hear?" Posie asked.
"How much did you hear?" Posie asked.
"All," said Sok. She started to say more, but it was taking too long to translate, so Stu cut in.
"Y'all got issues," he said. "You know I love you two, but I want the first time I eavesdrop on you making love from outside an open window to be special. Not as a means to resolve an argument. Trust me, that's a bad habit to get into."
"Alternatively," suggested Melvin. "You could be completely outside of earshot the first time we make love."
"Oh that's okay," Stu smiled, encouragingly. "I'm not busy or anything. And I'm always happy to be there for you two."
"Let's just grab the supplies and get out of here," Melvin said. Posie nodded.
-----
-----
"Everybody doing okay back there?" said Sasha, the sexy bus driver, over the intercom. E.J., Mallory, and Joe were the only three passengers that evening, and they could've easily heard her without the intercom.
"We're good, just drive please," said E.J.
"What he means to say," interjected Joe, while he moved Fej the lizard from his shoulder to his lap. "Is thank you very much for driving us out to the city. We know you're not on duty and we appreciate the favor."
"It's no big deal. I wasn't doing anything to-night, and I like the attention," she grinned, and pulled away from the stop.
"So does Mallory," E.J. said pointedly. "Did you have to wear that?" He gestured at her outfit; a black short skirt and a tank top with a high midriff.
"What, you don't think it's hot and/or attractive?" She asked, dejected.
"I think it's a little revealing."
"I thought we were going on a double date with your brother," she replied. "Don't you want to win?"
"Win what?"
"Win the date!"
"What do you mean? How on earth do you win at a double date?"
"By showing me off, of course," she explained. "Showing him who's got the hotter, sluttier arm candy, proving you're still the dominant older brother."
"I think you might be making some assumptions about the dynamic I have with my brother," E.J. pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.
"Well YOU'RE making assumptions about the dynamic you have with your LOVER, if you assume it's your place to tell me to dress more modestly," she harrumphed.
E.J. turned to Joe, "Joe, back me up here. Don't you think she's dressed a little inappropriately for public?"
"Please don't drag me into this," Joe said.
"What's he even doing here?" Mallory asked, gesturing at Joe. "Is he coming on our date too? Won't he be kind of a fifth wheel? Or is he triple dating with his lizard?"
"Actually," Joe brightened up. "There's a Professor Whom convention at the Suarez Center across the street from the restaurant you're going to! I'll be at that."
"I'm coming too!" Sasha announced over the intercom. "It sounds like fun!"
"I thought you didn't like Professor Whom?" Joe asked.
"I like attention," she replied, still unnecessarily over the intercom.
"Yeah, that all checks out," Mallory noted.
---
"Hey, you don't think this outfit is too revealing, do you?" Posie asked Melvin, on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. He glanced down at her purple dress, which came down below her knees, lower if you counted the fuzzy dice that dangled by the side of her shin. The matching jacket, despite being an open light summer jacket, was astonishingly also a turtleneck. She continued, "it rides a little higher than I was anticipating."
"Relax, you look fantastic," he said, distractedly. "Should we just get a table? They're running kind of behind."
"Hey guys!" Said Stu, walking around the corner with Sok in tow. Sok was grinning very wide and looking around at all the people and buildings like a kid in a toy store.
"Stu, what the heck are you doing here??" Melvin growled.
"Hey, woah!" Stu put his hands up defensively. "Don't worry, man, it's cool. We're here to spy on your date! But don't worry, we won't push the tables together or anything. We'll sit far away and use binoculars."
"Are you insane?" Melvin whispered loudly. "You brought Sok here!"
"Well yeah, I can't just leave her alone all night, can I?"
"I does not mind," said Sok. She had learned not to add the word "to" in front of her verbs, which made understanding her slightly smoother.
"Sure you do," Stu corrected her. "You're a social animal, right?"
"I like here very much!" She replied. "Very large houses! Lights!"
"We're meeting with E.J.! You brought her right to the very person we're trying to hide her from!" Melvin fumed.
"He doesn't know what she looks like," Stu said.
"I think a blue person is going to catch his attention," said Posie.
"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," Stu smiled, and gestured to the restaurant window. "Take a look."
Melvin and Posie complied, and saw that the restaurant was already pretty busy, and a good percentage of the customers were in sci-fi alien costumes of various shapes and colors.
"What's going on here?" Posie asked.
"I did my homework," Stu replied smugly. "There's a Professor Whom convention at the Suarez Center. There's a lot of hungry, dressed up nerds in this restaurant to-night. Sok will blend right in."
"Sok will blen rye tin!" Sok repeated. Then she added, (still avoiding the word 'to') "I want... see man who would... kill me. I want... know who... avoid."
"You win this round," complied Melvin. "Just stay under the radar, okay? E.J. might not know what Sok looks like, but he'll still recognize YOU."
"Will he?" Stu asked, smugly, as he reached into his fanny pack and pulled out a pair of fake Groucho Marks glasses with a fake nose and mustache attached.
"Yeah, that all checks out," Posie noted.
----
"Sorry we're late," said E.J. He and Mallory sat themselves at the restaurant table across from Melvin and Posie. "Our bus driver decided to stop at the gas station for a whole gallon of chocolate milk."
"Which she chugged all at once," added Mallory, scooting her chair in.
"Then she had to stop at another gas station once we got into town so the driver could use the restroom," continued E.J.
"Which she chugged all at once," added Mallory.
"Ew. What? No she didn't," corrected E.J.
"We haven't been here that long," Melvin reassured them.
"You must be Mallory," said Posie.
"Guys, this is Mallory," E.J. introduced her, completely unprompted. "Mallory, this is my brother Melvin, and his old friend/new girlfriend Posie Pillow."
Mallory stood up to shake Posie's hand.
"Nice to meet you," said Poise.
Mallory pulled her in closer and whispered in her ear, "I'm prettier than you, and I'm dating the more successful brother. Additionally, your name is silly." They sat back down, Mallory smiled sweetly. Posie felt bewildered, unsure of how to proceed from there. The brothers apparently didn't hear the exchange, so she just smiled nervously and kept it to herself.
"So how's the alien hunt?" Melvin asked.
"Oh come now, we didn't come all this way to talk about work, did we?" E.J. said, charmingly.
'We sure did,' thought Posie.
"Okay, how's..." Melvin thought for a second. "How is... you know what, I don't know what else you're doing with your time."
"Fair enough," nodded E.J. "I guess I mostly just work and bum around town."
"He's been collecting these little porcelain pony models," lied Mallory. "He paints them too. Usually pink. In case you're looking for birthday present ideas."
"I really don't do that," corrected E.J., calmly, clearly used to this sort of thing by now.
"So how's the alien hunt?" Melvin asked a second time.
"Pretty good!" E.J. answered. "There are a ton of aliens in this very room!" He looked around at all the Professor Whom cosplayers sitting at the other tables. An older couple dressed as fish monsters sitting at the adjacent table heard him, and raised their Champaign fleuts in response. E.J. continued, "There's also a guy over there that kind of looks like Stu, except for the mustache."
"Yeah, Stu doesn't have a mustache," agreed Melvin.
"It's definitely not Stu," E.J. agreed. "This mustache guy is here with some girl."
"That's uncharacteristically rude of you," said Mallory. "You don't think Stu can get a girl to go on a date with him? You think he's too ugly?"
"Stu is gay, hon," E.J. responded.
"Oh," Mallory sank back into her chair. "That's too bad. If he's too ugly to get a date with a girl, he's gonna have a much harder time getting a date with a boy. Boys are all about the visuals. Girls'll date a guy with bad teeth and a low grade body over if he's funny or rich enough or has large enough feet..." she talked quieter and quieter until she was just muttering, and eventually trailed off.
"So where are you guys stationed, anyways?" Melvin changed the subject. "Are they just putting you up in a hotel room, or...?"
"We're at a hotel, yeah," E.J. nodded. "But we've been all over town hunting. Unless we're at the old warehouse, I guess."
"Warehouse?" Asked Melvin.
"Are we ready to order?" A waitress interrupted, using the royal "we".
'Darnit' Melvin cursed internally.
"Yes, I'll have the salmon," E.J. said. "The couple at the table next to us gave me a craving." The older couple dressed like fish aliens once again raised their champaign glasses.
"I'll have whatever she's having," said Mallory, gesturing at Posie. "My eyes are up here, by the way."
Posie had been staring silently at Mallory's bare stomach for the last five minutes, and didn't respond to Mallory calling her out.
"And what would you like, miss?" The waitress asked Posie. She still didn't respond, staring at Mallory's stomach.
"Hello?" Mallory waved her hand trying to snap her out of the trance. "I'd say you gotta take me on a date first, but we're already here."
"Your freckles are like stars!" Posie finally spoke up, eyes still trained on Mallory.
"Oh, real original," Mallory rolled her eyes.
"No, I mean, like they're really like the stars," she insisted. "Has no one ever pointed that out to you?"
"What?"
Everyone stopped and looked at Mallory's stomach freckles.
"Oh, hey, you're right," agreed E.J. "I never noticed that before."
"I don't like this," said Mallory nervously. "I'm supposed to be making you all feel uncomfortable, not the other way around."
"There's the big dipper, and up there is the little dipper, right where it's supposed to be..." he pointed.
"And there's Sagittarius!" Pointed Posie.
"What?" Mallory looked down at her own stomach.
"And look, it continues on her arms."
Melvin pulled up a star chart on his cell phone and held it up for everyone to look at and compare.
"It's only half the sky. That's kind of weird."
"So, is anyone else gonna order? Or should I just get the fish?" The waitress asked, also uncomfortable.
Mallory stood up abruptly and addressed the waitress, "E.J. will have the fish, Posie and I will have the corn beef hash, and Melvin will have a cheeseburger without the pickles." She turned to Posie, "I have to use the lady's room. Come with me."
"What?" Posie looked up at her face finally, surprised.
"You're coming to the bathroom with me. We're ladies, so we go together, come on."
Posie slowly got up off the chair, and followed her to the restrooms.
"That's amazing," Melvin said. "That's exactly what we were gonna order before you got here."
---
When Posie and Mallory got into the restroom, Mallory immediately started checking under the stalls to make sure no one else was in there.
"Is everything okay?" Posie asked.
"We're friends, right?" Mallory turned to her.
"Well, we don't know each other," Posie replied. "And you told me you were prettier than me like right away. And made fun of my name."
"Exactly! We go way back."
"I don't think-"
"Look, Posie. Can I call you Posie? We're practically sisters-in-law now, so what do you say we drop this whole rivalry thing we've got going on and just be real with each other?"
"Well, I didn't know we had a-"
"What are you and Melvin fighting about?"
"W-what??"
"The way I hear it, you've been friends since you were in diapers, you only just started dating, and you're already sharing a bed. But to-night, you're not holding hands or gazing longingly into each others eyes... you're barely looking at each other at all. No signs of the honeymoon phase. So you're already having a spat, right?"
"No, we're not... fighting," she said, offended.
"Maybe you should be."
"He's just... getting over his jealousy right now," she explained. "I just got out of a long relationship."
"Ah, there it is," Mallory snapped her fingers and lurched closer to Posie, getting up in her personal space bubble. She shrank down a little. "I know exactly how he feels, you know? Being the silver metal. I'm the gal he's been seeing cause he can't be with Nichole."
Posie kept her mouth shut.
Mallory continued, "do you love him?"
"Isn't it too soon to-"
"No, don't give me that," she wagged her finger. "Don't act like you two just met. Couples like you don't have to follow the same pacing rules," she backed up a little and turned around to look at the small window at the top of the wall. "Maybe, eventually, E.J. will start making me feel like I belong to him. Like he'd choose me over his dead girlfriend if he had the opportunity. I know that sucks to say because she's dead, but that's how I feel. And you can't help how you feel. So I don't really hold it against him, how he feels."
"Melvin did say something very similar to that," Posie admitted. "Do you really feel that way?"
Mallory took a deep breath, "No, of course not. I like to fight. Chaos is my bread and butter. If I thought I was his favorite, I feel like that'd make it weird."
"Oh," Posie felt the whiplash. "Well... do you need to pee?"
"No, I need you to switch clothes with me," she replied. "Come on, I'll take this stall, you take that one."
"What? Why?"
"Because everyone's gawking at my body, and I'm not even covered in pig's blood this time."
"But... what makes you think I want everyone gawking at me? I mean, you chose to show up in that thing, and you seemed pretty comfortable until now."
"You're right, I'd be comfortable riding naked on horseback through downtown, but it has to be on my terms, you know?"
"Well, I don't really have terms for this sort of outfit."
"Come on, we're practically sisters-in-law, right? We're just a couple of besties, gabbing about our love trouble, right? We're bonding! I'll owe you a favor."
"Oh well um... okay, well-"
"Great! Thanks! In you go!" Mallory shoved Posie into the stall.
---
Posie came out of the bathroom door awkwardly trying to stretch Mallory's black skirt down farther, only to run into Stu, on his way into the men's room.
"Oooh lala, what have we here?" He said. She blushed.
"I had to switch clothes with E.J.'s girlfriend," she explained.
"Why's that?"
"Because... I don't know, she asked me to."
"If she's so shy, why'd she wear that in the first place?" He speculated. "You're gonna wow Melvin in that, by the way. You're really rocking the black. Makes your hair pop. Definitely sexier than the peacock costume."
"She really doesn't strike me as shy," she admitted. "I can't really get a solid read on her, to be honest. Not that that's new for me, just... I dunno, she's especially hard to pin down. Where is she, anyways?"
"Maybe she's regretting the fuzzy dice dress?" He offered.
"I'm just gonna check," she turned around, ducked into the restroom and came back out a second later. "Yeah, no, she's gone."
"What do you mean she's gone?" Stu asked.
"I think she escaped through the bathroom window."
"Why would she trade clothes with you if she was just gonna leave?"
"I don't... oh no."
"What?"
"Do you think it's a prank?" she kicked herself. "She might be establishing dominance. Now I have to go back to the table and explain why I'm coming back alone wearing her slutty vampire cheerleader costume. She just wanted to put me in an awkward embarrassing situation for fun."
Stu looked around to see if anyone was watching, "come on, girl. I got you."
---
Stu Silver and Posie Pillow emerged from the women's bathroom with their heads held high; Posie now garbed in Stu's button-up, grey slacks and pink tie, while Stu returned to his table wearing a short black skirt, a tankini and Groucho Marks glasses with a fake nose and mustache.
----
Sok looked up at Stu from her spaghetti, saw the new outfit, and could only ask the single word: "clothing?"
"It was a fashion emergency," he explained his new outfit, scooting his chair in across from her. "I had to switch clothes with Posie. She'd do the same for me... but I wouldn't really want her to."
She nodded, but she did not understand.
"It was just a prank," he said.
"Prank?" She asked another one word question.
"Posie was..." he searched for the words. "Malory lied to Posie and stole her clothes."
When Sok still didn't understand, Stu found himself explaining lying and stealing to her.
"I suppose what's happening is," Stu floundered. "Not everyone does to others what they want done to themselves. Sometimes people only serve themselves. Sometimes people don't know what will and won't hurt others."
"Why does not help boosh guide what hurt others?" Sok asked, earnestly.
"Help boosh?" Stu straightened up. "What, like a guardian angel? I thought you said the boosh here on Earth are broken?"
Sok thought on that for a minute, then reasoned, "broken boosh lead person to be broken person?"
"Maybe," Stu said. "People probably don't need help being broken, honestly."
Sok nodded, "I see now. Broken boosh lead person to be broken person. Then broken person lead person to be broken person. Broken person lead more person to be broken person. Until all person is broken person." She poked at her spaghetti with her fork thoughtfully. Stu had to stop and parse the confusing reasoning.
'Oh,' he thought, 'she's saying the boosh are supposed to guide people, but the broken boosh are misguiding people into trauma, and everyone's just reacting poorly to their own traumas and creating more traumas for others. Like a ripple effect. That's an unusually abstracted concept for her. She's usually less esoteric, isn't she?'
"I don't know if that's true," challenged Stu out loud. "Up until you showed up, we've never even heard of boosh. Maybe I still don't believe they exist."
She didn't answer, she just gave him a weird smile that made him feel like she was about to drag him onto a sketchy looking carnival ride.
'It's a little too easy for me to forget she's not a human,' he thought to himself.
"Hey, there's something I've been meaning to ask you, but I'm kind of afraid of the answer," Stu changed the subject.
Sok's unsettling carnival smile turned into a sweet smile in response.
Stu cleared his throat and leaned in a little closer, "so... if your people arrange your marriages through ritual and tradition, what happens to the gay people?"
Sok tilted her head, "gay people? Like Shtu?"
"Yeah, like me," he answered. "What would happen to me if I was one of your people when it came time for me to get married?"
Sok thought for a minute, "Shtu would get married, yes?"
Stu asked, "to a boy?"
She laughed, "No no no! To girl!"
Stu pressed, "so they'd just pair me off to a girl, even though I'm gay?"
"What is that mean? What is that matter?" She took a bite of spaghetti.
Stu took a minute to gather his thoughts, "Well, you're attracted to boys, right?"
She giggled, looked around, and leaned in and whispered, "yes."
"Well, what would happen to you if you were attracted to girls?"
"I attract to boys," she answered.
"But what if you were attracted to girls?" He asked again.
"I attract to boys," she patiently repeated.
'This is getting nowhere,' he thought, frustrated. He tried another angle, "is there anywhere on your planet where boys go if they don't get married to girls?"
Her face brightened up, and she tried a couple of alien words before something finally translated into "wise men".
"Wise men?" Stu repeated.
"Some who choose not to be... married, they must go live in large house up on mountain. Men with men and women with women. They commit each other."
"Like a frat house?" He asked. She didn't know what that meant, so he moved on and asked, "what do they do up there? Do they sleep with each other? Do they mouth kiss?"
She giggled, "Wise men sleep in little beds in little rooms. They build objects and advise and..." she tried a couple alien words before getting "...pray?"
"Oh," the light bulb in Stu's head turned on. "They're monks. Your planet has space monks."
"Shtu space monk?" She asked, pointing at him.
"No," he said insistently, furrowing his brow. "Definitely not."
"Shtu good wise man," she teased. "Much very wise, no marry woman, and..." after a couple failed alien words she finally pointed at Stu's new slutty attire and said triumphantly: "sacrifice!"
"Hey, this outfit is only a sacrifice if I'm not workin it," Stu protested. "And anyways, I'm not a space monk. Monks are wise because they spend significant portions of their time completely removed from society - of their own volition - with an outsider perspective of it. They do nothing but read about wisdom, and think about wisdom, and rewrite other monks' thinkings about wisdom. They don't know anything first hand." He paused for her earpiece to catch up, which gave him time to get himself wound up about it.
"If gay people are so wise, it's because they're right in the middle of society, trying to find love like everyone else, but having a harder time. There's far fewer of us, and so many of us are still hiding. Not everyone thinks men should be attracted to other men, and we don't always know who is going to be angry with us for putting ourselves out there. Maybe Melvin thinks we're so wise because he's still playing games and making silly high school drama, and people like me are above all that because we can't really afford not to be.
I'm sorry," he said after a brief pause, realizing he was talking rather quickly, and seeing that Sok and her translator weren't completely processing everything he was saying.
After a minute of catching up, Sok looked up from her Spaghetti at Stu, like he was a sick kid. He forgot she was an alien again. He decidedly did not like being looked at like that. She asked, "Shtu break?"
"I'm not broken," he answered irritably.
"Shtu attract wrong sex?" She approached it from a different angle. Even though she pronounced all her S's perfectly fine, she still insisted on calling Stu 'Shtu', like it was a pet name. He had thought it was cute, but here and now he suddenly found it annoying.
"I'm not broken," he insisted, more sternly.
"Broken people break people, yes? Shtu hurt foot on rock?" She pried metaphorically.
"Look, I get that you're from another planet, and your culture is completely foreign to ours, but please stop. I don't need this from you. I've heard it enough, that there's something wrong with me for being gay. But not from you."
Sok sank back into her seat, and frowned apologetically, "I am not intention to... poke Shtu... in the wound."
"I'M NOT WOUNDED," Stu growled. He took a deep breath, regained his composure, and said, "I'm not broken. I'm just gay. It's not common, but it's normal on this planet. Maybe on yours too, but you wouldn't know."
"No," Sok answered quietly. "Not one."
"Come on, Sok. Put your hat on. We're leaving."
-----
"So I went into Posie's room, the one at her parents house, and she's still got pictures of Manic," Melvin told his brother.
"Really?" E.J. asked rhetorically, just to show he was listening.
"Should I be worried about that?"
"I'm not sure. Has she accidentally called you Manic?"
"Well, no."
"Is she making you wear big rubber gloves, and telling you that you look sexy like that?"
"No."
"Then maybe it's fine. There's a lot of good memories with all of us, you know. You, me, Stu, Posie, Nick, Manic.. He's got to be in quite a few photos with the whole gang. She's never gonna get rid of them all, not without throwing some of you away too."
"Why can't she just scribble his face out? Isn't that a thing girls do with photos?"
E.J. rubbed his chin, and took a dramatic pregnant pause. He finally leaned forward and asked, "do you hate Manic?"
"Hate? That's a strong word," Melvin answered. "Maybe I do. I definitely don't want to see his ugly mug in my girlfriend's bedroom, that's for sure."
"Even though you and him spent so much time together?" E.J. asked.
"So what?" Melvin asked.
"So are you sure you're not just being jealous?"
"I'm definitely being jealous."
"I see," he thought. "Do you WANT to be jealous?"
"I don't know if I can help it."
"I don't think you hate Manic," E.J. said. "I think you got to be friends with Manic. We all did. We got along, got to know him, and engaged in fun activities with him. But I also think you've liked Posie for a very long time, and now that he's out of the way and you have what you want, you can't stand that his footprint is still lingering around like a bad fart."
"Wasn't sure where you were going with that, but you had me at 'Manic is like a bad fart'," Melvin replied. "Go on."
E.J. chuckled, and straightened up in his chair, "Bro, I don't know what to tell you that you'll want to hear. Manic isn't a villain. He's just kind of a jerk. Maybe you could be a jerk too, if you're jealous enough."
Melvin looked down, embarrassed. Then he looked up and said, "it's not that. When you're trying to kick a bad habit, isn't it a good idea to remove the temptations? At least at first? I know Manic ain't a villain. I don't want him dead or anything, I just want his paraphernalia away from Posie, so she can get over him."
"That's jealousy."
"I know that's jealousy. I'm not denying I'm jealous. But is the threat real? Don't I have a right to be a little jealous if the threat is real?"
E.J. shrugged, "I don't know. None of us really know how much time we get with people. Before Nick was taken from me by aliens, I was behaving out of fear of losing her too. And then bam! There she went. Gone for good. Abducted. Nobody could've predicted that. Filthy aliens! And all I ever do is regret spending my precious few last moments with her like that. The fact it it's not your job, or even within your ability, to get over her ex for her. So you might as well have more faith in her. And if she does go running back to Manic, then you've got your whole life afterwards to plot your revenge. Just like me!"
Melvin stared silently at the table, digesting his brother's advice. He looked up to say more, but spotted Posie returning to the table.
"Nice fanny pack," Melvin teased.
"Did you pull a costume change back there?" E.J. asked. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear anything quite that normal."
"Gee thanks," Posie answered sarcastically. "It's a long story. Also, I... I'm sorry, I kind of lost your girlfriend."
"She's dead?" He asked, weirdly calm about it.
"No, like she escaped."
"You let her escape?!" He suddenly sounded frightened and angry.
"What?" Posie hiccupped. "No, I didn't mean to... she just jumped out the window! I didn't know she was a flight risk?"
E.J. laughed, "it's fine, Posie. I kind of warned you guys she wasn't a people person. I just gotta call Joe and tell him to keep an eye out, so we don't leave without her. Hang on."
He pulled out his phone and put it on speaker. "Hey Joe!"
"Hey! How's the double date? Who's winning?" Said the phone, in Joe's voice.
"Nobody's winning, people don't win dates, that's just Mallory's crazy moon man talk," E.J. reminded him. "Listen, speaking of Mallory, she actually ditched. Can you keep an eye out for her?"
"She's wearing a purple dress now!" Posie called loudly but helpfully across the table.
"Is that Posie? Tell her I said hi!" Said the phone, in Joe's voice.
"Hi!" Posie called in a loud sing-song voice.
"Can I get anyone anything else?" Asked the waiter, with three food plates in his hands.
"Yeah, I'll have a steak!" Said the phone, in Joe's voice.
"Why is she wearing your purple dress?" Melvin leaned over close to Posie and whispered. "And how do you know Joe?"
"He got me drunk at a bus stop once. It's a long story," Posie whispered back.
"That doesn't sound like a long story," Hissed Melvin. "That sounds like a significant detail you've been holding out on me."
"Relax," Posie whispered. "It was before we became an item, and nothing happened."
"Yeah yeah of course, I'm not being jealous," Melvin whispered unconvincingly. "But I mean, you should tell me all about it anyways. For the case, I mean. Because Joe is E.J.'s partner, and he also knows where the warehouse is."
"Later, Mel, he's almost off the phone," she hissed back. Melvin straightened up and smiled as E.J. wrapped up the phone call.
"Mallory is MIA with a purple dress. I'm on the case! Though I should warn you, I have been drinking," warned the phone, in Joe's voice.
"Shots! Shots! Shots!" Shouted the phone, in the voice of many people.
"Do you want another shot?" Asked the phone, in Sasha's voice.
"Your convention sounds very fun," remarked E.J. "Mallory should be drawn to it like Ryan Reynolds is drawn to any potential cult classic movie script. I'm gonna hang up now and let you get back to it."
"Geronimo!" Shouted the phone, in Joe's voice, before hanging up.
"So about Mallory," started Posie. "How long have you guys been together?"
"Depends on what you mean," replied E.J., matter-of-factly, digging into his fish.
"I mean, when did you guys become an official couple?" She expanded the question.
"We're not really," he kept eating.
"You're not?"
He swallowed his food, "well maybe we are."
"You are?"
"I don't know, we never really talked about the labels of it."
"Oh," Posie picked at her corned beef hash.
"That's weird," interjected Melvin. "Why?"
"I don't know," deflected E.J.
"She doesn't seem like your type," said Posie. "Or... sorry for saying so. I just mean I don't quite understand the dynamic between you two yet."
"Um.." E.J. dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Well, we met in college. We had a prerequisite class together. I think... I was kind of off-putting to most people because of the goggles and the recently dead girlfriend. But Mallory was really nice to me. Dragged me out to parties and stuff more."
"Oh that is really nice," Posie admitted.
"Look, it's mostly just a physical thing."
"You're butt buddies?" Melvin asked irreverently.
"We travel a lot for work and share hotel rooms," said E.J. flatly. "This is the most I've ever had to talk or think about it. I don't really want to talk or think about it. Even if I did, Mallory is phenomenologically incapable of sentimentality. Case in point, first time formally meeting any of my family and she literally jumped out the bathroom window to get away. Are we done?"
They ate in silence for a good solid five minutes.
Posie broke the silence, "speaking of being done, how long do you think you'll be in town for? Like is there a due date on this whole alien hunt?"
"I hope not," admitted E.J. "Truth be told, I've been a little stressed out about it since we got the ship."
"Stressed? Not excited?" Asked Posie.
"Well yeah!" E.J. nodded aggressively. "We don't know anything about it. That makes it dangerous. So that's stressful. It's in my hometown near people I love, so that's stressful. My employers could at any moment swoop in and kick us out on our laurels if we don't prove ourselves indispensable, so THAT's stressful!"
"Not to sound like mom, but have you had any marijuana weed lately?" Melvin asked.
"Of course," E.J. scoffed. "I'm a Hemingway. Still though."
"Where is this warehouse?" Posie pried.
"It's-" E.J. stopped himself from answering, and looked hard at Posie.
She could feel her hands start to sweat. Had she pressed too much too quickly? Had she made him suspicious of her? He bit his lip and then slowly and seriously said, "I... shouldn't bring guests to the warehouse right now. I know I've been cavalier about the case details, but the whole matter is technically confidential. And dangerous. You understand."
Posie swallowed hard.
The waiter marched up, put a plate down on the table, and opened the lid to reveal a fresh smoking slab of meat.
"What's this?" Melvin asked.
"It's a steak. I thought... didn't someone order the steak?" Asked the waiter.
"You know what, I'll take it," said Melvin. "I never got my burger."
----
Sasha the sexy bus driver followed Joe Michaels through the crowded hall at the Suarez Center. She wasn't as intoxicated as he was, but she enjoyed stumbling or zigzagging around behind him as if she was. At points, it was the only way to get around, as most everyone at the convention was somewhat less than sober. By the time they arrived, it was already a raging party, but they were told it started out as a completely reasonable Professor Whom convention, with costumes and booths and cast interviews, and nobody was quite sure how or exactly when it took a nosedive.
Joe swerved around one clump of people hacky sacking, only to side step another clump of people drinking shots and nearly tripped on his left foot.
Sasha, right behind him, also swerved and side stepped, and pretended to nearly trip over her own left foot. A man in a fish monster costume fell to the floor in Joe's path, pretending to be shot dead by a cardboard laser gun. He gracefully hopped over his body. So did she.
He meandered up to a long refreshment table, stopped for a second to sniff a pizza, and said "delightful!" before ducking to the floor and crawling under the table to the other side. Sasha stepped up to sniff the same pizza as soon as he was out of the way, likewise said "delightful!" and crawled under the table after him. Joe stopped abruptly, and Sasha bumped into him.
"Hey Sasha," he slurred a little. "How's your encyclopedic knowledge of Professor Whom?"
"Okaysies," she answered. "Why?"
He pointed at a small framed man coming out of the women's restroom. He had silver paint on his face, and was barefoot wearing a purple dress that fell just below his knees, lower if you counted the purple fuzzy dice that dangled from the bottom.
"What character is that?" He asked.
"To my knowledge, that isn't a Professor Whom character," she answered. "Unless it was one of those obscure, low budget 60's episode villains."
"That's what I thought," he said smugly, and sauntered forward towards him.
"That's what I thought," she repeated smugly, and sauntered forward behind.
"Excuse me, sir, that's a nice dress," said Joe to the small framed man, who was just standing there looking around the room with a bearded jaw hanging open. He was holding something in a closed fist. Joe repeated louder, "Excuse me sir! That's a nice dress!"
The man in the dress slowly turned his head to look at Joe and smiled broadly, "hey thanks, man! I just got it here!"
"Really?" Joe asked. "Where here? At a booth?"
"Naw, man," he giggled. "Sorry, I'm tripping so hard right now. My name's Robby, by the way!" He opened his hand to reveal a wad of mushrooms. "A freckled woman gave me these in exchange for my costume. I came as a cyberdude! I'm still wearing the face paint I think. Fair trade, these things are hella great! Want some?"
Joe took the whole wad of mushrooms and ate them.
"Hey man!" The man protested. "That's too much at once!"
Joe swallowed, "these are button mushrooms. They're from the pizza back there. They aren't hallucinogenic." He put his hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm afraid you're completely sober. And a little gullible. Don't ever change, though. Trust is a rare and beautiful quality these days. Now, did you happen to see where this woman went?"
"Aw snap," the man hung his head, dismayed. "Naw, bro, but I saw her take like five shots in a row earlier. Out of other people's hands. She's kind of scary."
"Thank you for your help," said Joe. He turned to Sasha, "we now know she's dressed as a cyberdude, probably minus the silver face paint. Also, wildly intoxicated. Geronimo!" And he skipped back off into the crowd.
"Geronimo!" She repeated and skipped off after him.
At the other end of the hall, at the open bar, he stopped and proclaimed, "Ah-ha! Elementary!"
Sasha stopped and was about to mimic him again, but she held her tongue when she saw was he was pointing at. There was a cyberdude dancing and pelvic thrusting on the bar, with no face paint, and black hair spilling out from under the helmet, repeatedly yelling "SEX ROBOT! SEX ROBOT!"
"Oh wow, that's Mallory. She doesn't waste time, does she?" observed Sasha.
"Please, that's all she ever does," remarked Joe. "Come on."
Mallory hopped off the bar, grabbed a shot out of somebody's hand and poured it down her throat, on her way over to a waste high tank robot, which she started grinding on, shouting "SEX ROBOT!" Then she gagged a little, and opened up the top of the tank and yarfed into it.
"Oh, sorry dude, I thought you were a trash can," she apologized to a guy in a wheelchair who was inside the tank robot costume.
"Hey Mallory!" Joe approached her.
"Oh! Joe!" She looked surprised, and then annoyed. "I'm not Mallory, I'm a SEX ROBOT! Mallory is across the street on a stupid lame date with her stupid lame loverboy."
"That's fine," said Joe. "Just use protection. We wouldn't want you to catch a computer virus."
"Fine, MOM, I'll download Norton first," Mallory rolled her eyes.
"Are... are you going to help me clean this up?" Asked the wheelchair tank.
"In a minute, MOM, I'm hanging out with my friends," Mallory replied.
"Oh, that's okay, I'll just get it myself-" he started to wheel away, but Mallory grabbed the back of the costume and pulled him back.
"Not so fast," Mallory said. "I said I'd help and I will. A sex robot always keeps her promises."
"I'm loving this new headcanon," smiled Sasha. "I wish they'd make an episode like this for real."
"Well I'm loving THIS guy's HEAD cannon!" Mallory laughed maniacally and grabbed the wheelchair tank's cardboard cannon.
"Hey can we take a selfie with you guys?" Asked Joe.
Mallory put her hand over her heart and looked like she was about to cry, "Aww, I'm always happy to please my loyal fans."
Joe, Sasha and Mallory leaned over the wheelchair tank guy and smiled while Joe snapped a photo on his cell phone. The tank guy did not smile.
"Nice!" Said Sasha, "you got all the vomit in the shot. Try a sepia tone filter?"
"Thanks," said Joe, while he sent the photo as a text message attachment. "E.J. will be happy to know you're safe."
"You tricked me!" Mallory exclaimed, indignant. She took off her cardboard arm and hit him with it.
"Can I go now?" asked the tank guy. "This doesn't smell good, and it makes me kind of want to vomit now too."
"No, you may vomit here," Mallory permitted. "You're a part of our lives now. May this be unto you a yarf pact."
"I don't want to make a yarf pact," he protested, quietly.
"So tell me," Said Sasha. "Does a sex robot ever fall in love?"
"No, never!" Replied Mallory triumphantly. "A sex robot is emotionless. A sex robot is strictly physical, no strings attached robot. A sex robot is not for dating, and never gets too attached. A sex robot would never follow you to your hometown and meet your family. I can tell you that." She sounded less and less triumphant by the second.
"Interesting," said Sasha. "And hypothetically speaking, what would happen if a sex robot tried all that?"
"A sex robot would malfunction," replied Mallory, now sounding somber and kind of drunkenly sad. "It goes against its programming. It would short circuit. It would go haywire. It would run away. It would yarf on some ginger nerd in a wheelchair."
"My name is Caylen, by the way," said Caylen, the ginger wheelchair tank guy.
"Aww, honey," Sasha sweetly put her hands on Mallory's shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Maybe a sex robot only THINKS it's a sex robot. Maybe it was raised by sex robots, and all the other sex robots thought it was ugly. But then one day the sex robot is all grown up, and it looks at its reflection in a lake and discovers it was really a big, beautiful swan all along!"
"What?" Mallory squinted at her.
"You know, like the ugly duckling?" She defended herself.
"You lost me too, ma'am," said Joe.
"Maybe," interjected Caylen. "Maybe if you'd said 'love robot' instead of 'swan', it would flow better thematically?"
"I agree," said Joe.
"Oh, good idea!" Sasha took back her hands, and extended one pointer finger to the sky like she was pointing at an invisible light bulb above her head. "New headcanon: the sex robot was secretly a LOVE robot all along! Not a swan or any other bird."
"Okay, guys, let's go back to the pizza table," said Mallory. "I need some more mushrooms."
"Why?" Asked Joe.
"Because I accidentally peed in the sex robot costume and I need another outfit."
----
No sooner did Stu sit down on the front porch than he saw Melvin and Posie walking up the path from their double date, holding hands and laughing at something he couldn't hear. He stood back up to his feet and extended the handle on his roller luggage. When they spotted him, they stopped holding hands and Melvin picked up the pace toward him.
"What's all this?" Melvin asked.
"Oh I'm..." Stu took a deep breath and put on a big friendly smile. "I'm moving towns."
"You're kidding!" Melvin didn't smile. "That's super out of nowhere. What's going on?"
Stu flapped his hands in front of them, trying to gesture reassuringly, "Oh, this isn't as out of nowhere as all that. You remember Scott, the contrabass balalaika guy?"
"Who?"
"The... the contra baseball guy?" Stu tried.
"Oh your friend from the city!" Melvin remembered.
"Yes him," chuckled. "I'm going to go crash at his place. I guess there's quite a progressive community there fighting the good fight, and I think.. I think I'm going to go be a part of that."
"I gotta say, I'm surprised," Melvin said. "You don't usually leave. Like ever. You're always around. Even when we want privacy. What about Sok?"
"She's sound asleep upstairs," he pointed his thumb over his shoulder, not really in the right direction. "I wouldn't worry about waking her, she's like a rock right now."
"No, I mean in general, Stu," Melvin pleaded. "Don't you want to be a part of this? I mean, it's... it's a space alien, Stu. That's a pretty special occasion."
"Yeah, about that," Stu rubbed the back of his neck and stepped a pace closer to Melvin. "Do you know she's homophobic?"
"She's homophobic?" Melvin blinked.
"Mmhmm."
"Sok. Sok the alien."
"Yes."
"Is afraid of the gays?"
"Well, she thinks me being attracted to the same sex is an error," he explained. "Like a... malfunction. Like my sex drive wanted to be straight but it failed."
"Oh, that's news," Melvin looked up at his window as if he could see through the walls and get a good look at Sok.
"It's honestly fine, she's not being rude or anything," Stu said, unconvincingly. "It's just a wake up call is all. I've been the only gay person in a conservative small town long enough. And you guys are great, and you've been great, and I'm lucky, because I've... I mean it's not like I've ever been physically bullied here. It honestly could've been worse for me. But it's time, you know?"
"No, it's not time. You don't have to go," Melvin continued to plead. "The march of progress will always be there, if we get done with the alien stuff."
"Look, it's one thing when all these crappy small town conservatives look at you funny, and you have to grow up with well meaning people still trying to change you, or in denial about the fact of you. But guys," Stu stepped back a couple paces and pointed to the sky. "A being from another world who's never heard of lying or stealing or hurting people on purpose, who's never heard of war, and whose species is objectively more healthy and functional than ours just descended from the heavens and told me point blank that there's something wrong with me for being gay. A literal angel from one of this town's crappy churches might as well have come to earth and called me an abomination."
"I don't think Sok meant-" Melvin started.
Stu cut him off, "yeah I know, she didn't mean to be judgmental or anything. All the same though. It's the final straw for me. It's just time."
Posie, who'd been listening from over by the bushes, marched up to Stu and punched him in the face. Stu stumbled backwards and clutched his face.
"Owch! What the hell??" He protested.
"You're a selfish, inconsiderate, pedestrian jerk, Stu Silver!" She shouted.
"No, I'm- pedestrian? Did you just use the fact that I'm on the street right now as an insult?!"
"What about us, huh?! You're just going to leave us in a lurch!? What about-"
"You guys don't need me to-"
"How would you like it if-"
They continued shouting over the top of each other until Posie finally overpowered him with a growl and he shut up to listen. He'd never heard her growl at anything before. It wasn't intimidating by a long shot, she didn't have the voice or stature for it, but it was so out of character for her that he went ahead and felt intimidated anyways out of principle.
"This wasn't how it was supposed to go down! I wanted us all to spend this summer together! The twilight after graduation, when we're not kids anymore but we don't have to be adults yet! It was supposed to be fun! We were gonna go bowling, and hiking, and stay out late, having midnight picnics on the rooftops! Everything's wrong, Stu! First I get dumped, and then now we have to stay indoors all the time, and be incognito from our own family, and now you're leaving me all alone too! I'm all alone now, and it's not even the county fair yet!"
Stu rubbed his face and could no longer look her in the eye.
"It's not even the county fair yet," she repeated. She winced and clutched at her stomach, where she felt a big knot forming.
"I saw this going differently," Stu said to the ground. He stood up, grabbed his luggage and started pacing away from the friends, "It's only an hour drive to Bellville, and I've got my phone. You can keep me updated," he turned around and finally looked them both in the face. "And if you need me, or if things get hairy, don't hesitate to call on me for help."
They didn't answer, so he left.
Posie let out a heavy sigh, and began to storm over to where Melvin was standing, muttering "can you believe this guy..."
"You're all alone now?" He asked her quietly.
"What?" She stopped dead in her tracks.
"You just said everything's wrong and you're all alone now," Melvin said. "You said first you got dumped..." He pointedly shut his jaw and started marching toward the front door.
"Melvin, I didn't mean it that way," Posie protested. "Please don't take me wrong."
"What did I get wrong?" Melvin asked, still walking away from her. "Is that not what you said?"
"I... I.." the knot in her stomach kicked up into her throat.
He got to the top of the porch and opened the door to go inside.
"Wait," she gasped. "Are you just gonna leave me out here?"
He stopped in the door frame and whipped around to face her, "Well what am I supposed to think?"
The knot in her throat prevented her from answering.
He continued, "Cause it sounds like you wish Manic hadn't broken up with you. And that means you wish you and I were still just friends. And being left with just me is the same as being left all alone with no one."
"No," she croaked.
He turned back into the doorway and walked in. He took a deep breath and continued up the stairs. "I've got a lot to process."
Posie stood alone in the parking lot, blood pressure rising, eyes watering, breath quickening, and muscles tensing up. She felt she was about to lose control of her fist, and she needed to punch something; but there was nothing around to punch, so she punched herself. Hard, in the nose. She let out a visceral scream and started pulling on her hair, stumbling backwards into the bushes. "You stupid girl!" She hissed at herself, scratching at her face with her fingernails. "Why are you always messing everything up?!" She bit her tongue to shut herself up, and grabbed the bush roots as tightly as she could to keep herself from doing any more damage. She stayed there, on her back, clinging to the bush for several minutes actively trying to slow her breathing while the whole world spun in circles around her. Her mouth tasted metallic. She must have bitten her tongue too hard. She could feel the branches and little sticks digging into her back. When she finally relaxed her muscles enough, and the world slowed down enough, she sat up onto the curb, rattled and a little frightened.
'That was dramatic,' she thought.
'Everyone left you again,' she also thought.
'Did I really just do that? Did I really just physically, literally beat myself up?'
'You're the most hated object to your senses. Face it. You hate yourself.'
'But there's no getting rid of me.'
She took a few deep breaths with her eyes closed, then licked her thumb and crossed herself, whispering, "Lord have mercy."
'I probably need more help about this,' she thought. 'But at the moment, what I really want to do is be someone else. Like the opposite of myself.'
'Who is the opposite of myself?'
'Probably Mallory.'
'What would Mallory do?'
She opened her eyes, wiped away the wetness, and looked up at Melvin's window. It was open.
'Mallory climbs through windows.'
Posie Pillow stood to her feet. Her legs felt shaky. She walked as calmly as she could muster over to the side of the building.
'There's a fire escape, but it only goes to the hallway windows,' she assessed. 'I'll have to climb around the side.'
'That's three stories up. What if I fall? Or worse, what if I lose control of myself again and jump?'
'Stop thinking about it.'
She climbed up onto the top of a dumpster. She only had about two steps to build momentum. She backed up to the very edge of the lid and launched herself forward, leaping off and reaching out to grab the very bottom rung of the latter. She hung there for a second till her legs stopped swinging beneath her, then she pulled herself up to the next rung, then the next, until she could get her feet up onto the ladder.
There were stairs leading up from the second floor to the third. That was the easy part. She then climbed onto the guard rail, and grabbed onto a brick that was protruded from the wall just enough to get the tips of her fingers around it. Slowly and nervously, she squatted down and lowered her leg over the side to get to the sill of a window. Her leg wasn't quite long enough, so she had to quickly let go of the brick and grab onto the top of the window frame. With all four limbs now clinging to a window frame, she momentarily considered that she might be stuck here; no clear way around the corner to Melvin's window, and no good way to get back onto the fire escape. She thought about knocking on the window to see if anyone would let her in where she was.
Instead, she swallowed hard, and reached around the corner to see if she could feel another window. She could. She remembered the windows on that side of the buildings had planters, but she couldn't recall how big they were, or if they'd support her weight.
"This is insane," she said out loud to herself, as she let go of the window sill with one hand so she could reach the other. She managed to grab the window, and her whole body swung around the corner, hitting her ankle hard on the planter. Wincing in pain, she scrambled her feet up onto the frame, and as soon as she had the leverage, she grabbed the top of the window with her other hand. One more window over. Easy. She scooted sideways, reached out to the next window. Once she had a grip, she sidestepped onto Melvin's planter, and swung herself inside.
"Posie, what-!?" Melvin was sitting on the bed, with a dumbstruck look on his face. Sok was snoring on the floor next to the fake plant.
"Shut up," interrupted Posie. "I almost died about five time just now and I deserve to be heard. You can't do this without me." She stepped farther into the room, pulled a twig out of her hair from the bushes, and wiped some blood from her nose with the back of her hand. She continued, "take care of Sok, I mean. You can probably do it without me being your girlfriend, but you can't do it without me altogether. Not now that Stu is gone. You need me."
"Posie, you have a bloody nosie," Melvin stood up and darted for the bathroom.
Posie continued, "and it's fine if you don't want me to be here anymore, I totally get it, but I think Sok should come stay with me."
Melvin returned from the bathroom with a roll of toilet paper and moved to dab at her nose, "how did you hurt your nose climbing my building? And why are there scratches all over your face?"
"I'm fine," she retorted, grabbing the tissue out of his hands and limping away from him. "The way I see it, your brother is more likely to show up here unannounced than he would be to show up at your ex's. Plus I'm a lady, and so is Sok, so I'm a little better equipped to help her just on a day to day basis."
"Why are you limping?" Melvin asked. "Do you need to lie down? Let me get you some water."
Posie sat down on the bed with tissues on her nose, and looked at Sok snoring on the floor while Melvin filled a tall glass with tap water. When the cup was full, he turned off the faucet, but didn't turn around.
He finally asked, "Did you just call yourself my ex? Do you want to break up with me?"
"What?" Posie said. "No, I don't want to break up with you! I love you! ...Do you want to break up with me?"
"No," Melvin turned around and walked back over to her with the water. "I love you too."
"Oh," Posie took the glass of water, but didn't drink any. She felt sort of silly for jumping to conclusions. Even sillier having gone through all that trouble making a dramatic entrance now that she knew the it wasn't necessary. "I guess we don't need to figure out custody arrangements for Sok, then."
Sok continued to snore. Melvin sat down next to Posie on the bed.
She took the tissue away from her face and looked at the red, "I'm in the right, you know."
"What do you mean?" Melvin asked.
"I'm sorry what I said outside came out like it did, I'm sorry I didn't choose my words better, but that's not really an excuse. You've been acting super possessive lately, and I don't like that at all," she explained. "It stresses me out, and makes me feel like you think so little of me."
"You're absolutely right," Melvin nodded his head in agreement. "I'm acting like a big, six piece chicken McDummy. You shouldn't have to injure yourself climbing my fire escape to get my attention with that. Actually, you didn't have to anyways, I didn't lock the door or anything. I still don't understand how all this happened."
Posie put the tissues back up to her face, and briefly considered telling Melvin about her little fist fight with herself in the parking lot. She decided against it.
"Honestly, I think I just need a bath, if that's alright?" She gave him a short kiss and stood up to limp to the bathroom. She stopped at the door and looked back at him. he gave her a forced-looking reassuring smile.
Like a flash, she was transported back to a memory of him as a little boy. Her parents were visiting his in Mr. and Mrs. Hemingway's living room, smoking pot, while she was playing pirates out in the front yard with Melvin and E.J. Somehow, she face-planted in the mud. The boys laughed at her and teased her, and she felt really embarrassed about it. She remembered she had to wash up in their bathroom, and borrowed one of Mrs. Hemingway's larger shirts, which she wore essentially as a nightgown. She remembered coming out of the bathroom, and seeing Melvin there, asking if she was alright, and saying sorry for laughing. She didn't want him to see her like that, so she closed the door and refused to come out till her parents promised her Melvin had gone to his room.
She blinked, and she was back in Melvin's pad, he was still sitting on the bed holding a roll of toilet paper, and Sok was still snoring next to a fake potted plant. She felt her sore nose, and ankle, and tongue, and face, and back. She felt embarrassed she had done all that to herself. Here she was again, standing in his bathroom door, not wanting him to see her like this.
----
E.J.'s gas station slushy slowly melted from neglect as he sat in the fish rocket pouring over whatever information he could glean about alien life from the logs. Much of what he found were repeated symbolic patterns; everything from the building and town layouts, to the cycle of anyone's day, they all followed symbolic patterns that referenced not only each other, but also historical or mythological events that he had yet to come across. He learned the alien planet where this ship came from had rings merely as a consequence of a lengthy explanation of a certain holiday's constantly calling of them to attention ("because of the first of the great sky rings, we circle the tower 32 times", "Because of the outer ring, we lay out 40 flowers at night on our doors", etc). It made for very tedious study.
"Are you in there?" E.J. heard Mallory ask as she hoisted herself up to the top of the ship.
"I'm in here," he answered monotonously.
"How did the rest of the date go?" She asked, looking down the hole.
"It went fine," he answered distractedly. His eyes trained on the text he was projecting onto a blank part of the ship wall with the earpiece. "How was the con?"
"They didn't care that I left?" She ignored his question.
"No, it was fine, don't worry about it."
"That's good," she said, quietly. "I don't think we should date again."
"I understand," E.J. said, still not looking up at her. "I apologize for dragging you there."
"I don't think we should bone zone anymore either," she suggested.
E.J. looked up at her finally, though with the goggles it looked like he was merely looking at a higher part of the ship wall, "If that's what you want."
"You really don't care if we don't bone zone anymore?" She asked.
"That's a new term," he noticed. "Are you calling it that now because my brother works at the Cone Zone?"
"Maybe," she admitted.
"Are..." E.J. chose his words diplomatically. "Are you still going to work with me and Joe? Will we be able to maintain a professional work environment?"
"Not on your life," scoffed Mallory. "If you wanted someone professional, you shouldn't have picked me as your chemist. Relax though, I'm not gonna start drama about this. What, do you think I'm some wuss that's gonna need her space to go hit the ice cream and soaps? Get real. You're the wuss. I'm not the wuss."
"Good," E.J. looked back down at his reading; she saw the letters reflecting off of his goggles. "It will be slightly more expensive booking the three of us in separate rooms now. Perhaps I can room with Joe for awhile, and we can sort out the budget later."
"You really don't care?" She repeated.
He didn't answer.
She jumped in, straddling him, nearly knocking the slushy over.
"Woah, watch the-" he started, but she cut him off with her lips; her fingernails digging into his chest. She brushed her face off of his and moved down to his neck, while her hand slid down to undo his belt. With his mouth free, he asked, "I thought you didn't want to bone zone?"
She ripped his studded belt off and threw it out of the ship, "now that I know we don't stand a chance in hell at a relationship, there's no reason we can't be together."
"I never thought of it that way," he muttered compliantly. She started back in on his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her, angling his wrist out so that the earpiece he was holding would continue to project his reading material onto the fish rocket wall. She bit his ear and reached down the front of his trousers as he considered a tantalizing paragraph about seasonal religious diet restrictions. She scratched up his back as he took note that during a particular seven day stretch during their planet's equinox the aliens could not cook with oil made from the seeds of something called a goonthlog.
Mallory paused when she realized she was doing all the work. She pushed herself off of his torso, and saw the words he was reading reflecting off of his goggles.
"Are you kidding me?!" She slapped him in the face, and climbed out of the rocket. "You're such an ass!"
E.J. listened silently to her storm across the room, pick up his studded belt from the floor, and march out of the warehouse slamming the door behind her. He wondered again if he should be more worried about this.
"It's probably fine," he whispered to himself.
---
She spun around on her heels outside the warehouse door, and yelled, "What, you aren't even gonna follow me out!? Not gonna chase me down and apologize?!" She knew he couldn't hear her from there. She yelled anyways. "I'm the catch here, not you! I'm super hot and fun and interesting! And you're moody all the time, and your face is disfigured!"
She kicked up some dirt, and stormed off into the night.
----
Stu Silver stood up from the transit center bench as the bus pulled up in front of it. Sasha the sexy bus driver pulled the door open and took a look at him. "Nice outfit, stranger!" She smiled and gestured at Mallory's black two-piece that he was still wearing.
"Hey, Sasha," he waved. "Right back at you, girl! You're not working your route this late, are you? It's like two in the morning."
"No, I wasn't," she answered, pointing behind her to Joe, who was sitting in the seat behind her. "Me and him just got back from a party. You're not waiting for the bus, are you?"
"I was just gonna catch the morning bus to Bellville."
"Were you gonna sleep here?"
"Yeah, I mean it's only a couple hours, it's fine."
"Hop in," she waved him in. "You're officially invited to the after party!"
"Oh!" Stu brightened up, gathered his bags and loaded them onto the bus.
"This is Joe, by the way," she introduced him.
"Hi, I'm Joe!" Joe slurred. "And this is my lizard, Fej!"
"I'm Stu," Stu shook his hand.
"I like your outfit too," said Joe. "It looks familiar actually."
"Thanks," Stu smiled smugly. "It's an armor upgrade. I earned it rescuing a damsel in distress. Hey, what's that?" Stu pointed at Sasha's dash, where she kept what he thought looked like an old timey tarot card painting on a slab of wood, depicting a man with a dog's head carrying a small child with a halo.
"Oh, do you like it?" Sasha asked. "An older couple gave it to me. The Yokels."
"The piano teachers?" Stu asked.
"Yeah, that's them. They ride the bus sometimes. Real nice. This is St. Christophorus. I asked once if they had a patron saint of sexy travelers, and they brought this back for me one day. There's a story behind it, but I don't really remember it. I think he was just an ugly dude who turned handsome after helping baby Jesus cross a river."
"Oh, that's weird," Stu said. "Nice they had something so specific though."
"Alright, buckle up," Sasha said unnecessarily into the intercom. "We're going out for ice cream!"
The bus peeled out of the parking lot.
----
Mallory made her way around streets of Port Teague by the streetlights and moonlight looking - but failing to find - a bar that was still open at this hour. Everything seemed so dead and creepy in a small town at night; passing between unlit houses, surrounded by unconscious people. Not even any cars on the streets. It'd be tranquil if she weren't so ticked off. She passed the main street and found herself in front of the Hummingbird Café, and momentarily considered smashing the windows with a rock. Instead, she pressed on around the corner and down a couple blocks to where she knew the Cone Zone was. E.J.'s stupid brother's place of work. Now HERE is a window for smashing! She wrapped E.J.'s studded belt around her knuckles and started winding up for a good punch to the glass.
Before she could swing, she became aware of headlights coming toward her. She squinted toward it, and eventually she could make out the lights were attached to a bus, which pulled up on the side of the street in front of her, taking up several parking spaces. Sasha, Joe and Stu all climbed out.
"Welcome to my job away from job, boys! Oh hey, it's Mallory!" Sasha smiled at her. "Are you gonna join us for some ice cream? I'm buying."
"Yyyyyes," Mallory decided.
When Stu recognized E.J.'s date from the restaurant, he momentarily panicked before he remembered he was in disguise and she wouldn't recognize him now.
"Excellent!" Sasha unlocked the door, let them all in, and locked it back up behind her. She kept the lights off, but turned on a neon sign to help illuminate the shop a little. Finally, she opened the cash register and dropped a fat stack of cash into it. "That aught to cover us for the night."
"I forgot how weird the menu here was," said Stu, browsing the big board on the back wall.
"So Stu," Joe sat on the bench behind him. "You had an awful lot of bags with you. Are you running away from home?"
Stu laughed, "no, nothing so dramatic. I am moving out to Bellville though."
"Are you going to miss your friends?" Asked Sasha.
"Of course! But..."
"Uh-huh, I know that look," said Sasha. "I see it all the time in here. Let's get you a scoop of peppermint brownie apple cider ice cream, and you can tell me all about it."
"What are you, a bartender?" Mallory teased.
'I absolutely CAN'T tell you all about it,' Stu thought to himself. He took a deep breath.
"My friends and I had this... project we were working on together. Something really cool and potentially ground breaking, maybe for all of humanity. But it's beginning to look like.. it might not be so beneficial for ALL humanity. You know what I mean? It's beginning, in fact, to seem like it might be just another form of progress that only benefits middle class, straight, white people. And I'm... well..." he sat on the stool and gestured at the woman's outfit he was wearing.
"Hey speaking of that outfit," Mallory stepped up into his personal space bubble. "I don't know where you got it, but I think it might belong to me."
"That's why it looks familiar!" Joe beamed jovially. "I figured it out because I'm a detective!"
"Oh, um.." Stu shrank nervously into the stool. It dawned on him that Joe must be working with E.J. and Mallory. He tried to quickly form an excuse as to how he got her dress.
"Keep it," Mallory said. "It looks better on you. Keep sitting like that in that skirt though, I've got a great view of your bone zone."
Stu blushed a little, happy for the reprieve; he closed his legs and pulled the skirt down, "I am gay though. I was gonna say that, but I didn't think I still had to."
Mallory backed out of his personal space, "Aww, nothing but eye candy for me to-night I guess."
"And literal candy!" Sasha added, gleefully scooping what appeared to be loose, hard butterscotch candies into a waffle cone."
"Did you talk to E.J.?" Asked Sasha. "Did you turn out to be a love robot after all?"
Mallory shoved her index finger up her nose to dig at a hard hurty booger, "I talked to him. He's not interested in me. His loss." She flicked the booger onto the ice cream glass.
"Aww, I'm sorry hun," Sasha said. "I'll get you some peppermint brownie apple cider ice cream too. You'll feel just like Christmas in the summer."
"It's fine," Mallory reached into her shirt and pulled out a wrinkled photo of E.J. and Nick. "If he'd rather be in some cliché small town heartthrob schtick with some basic bungalow chick who'll watch college football with him, and eat nachos with him, and get fat with him-"
"Where did you get that?" Stu asked, alarmed, grabbing the photo from out of her hand.
"Where did you get that?" Stu asked, alarmed, grabbing the photo from out of her hand.
Mallory scoffed, "well apparently we're just stealing stuff from each other to-day, aren't we, mister Keebler elf?"
"My name is Stu. Where did you get this?" He repeated.
"Relax," she said. "I nabbed it off that creepy shrine at the Hummingbird. He's still got his eyes in that photo. They're not gonna miss it."
"That's where I thought you got it," he said, irritated. He was going to tell her he'd put it back himself, but then he softened up, and gave the photo back to her. He wasn't coming back to town anytime soon anyways.
"That's a shame about you two," Joe said. "You really had the long haul going there. But I guess if you asked him out, and he said no, what more can you do?"
"I didn't ask him out," she snapped. "I pushed him away and he let me."
"Ah, well there's your problem," he said, pulling a flask out of his cargo pocket and taking a swig. "You're so subversive all the time. But by now, everyone expects you to subvert expectations. At this point, the most subversive thing you can do is to not be subversive at all."
"What are you saying?" Mallory squinted at him. "Are you telling me I should go try to win him back by acting all oppositely?"
"Yes," he hiccupped. Sasha came out from behind the counter with a snow cone, took his flask out of his hands, and poured it onto the snow cone, then handed it back to him. He sipped at it.
"That sounds like terrible advice," Stu warned. "Who are you people?"
"Hey, you don't have to be mentally healthy or responsible to be an adult, kid," slurred Joe. "You just have to be old enough and employed."
Stu started, "Look, E.J. just gets really fixated-"
"What even IS the opposite of myself, anyways?" Mallory cut him off. Then she answered her own question. "Probably that Pillow girl from the restaurant."
"Who, Posie?" Joe asked.
Mallory stood up on a stool and started talking in a whiney, condescending nasal-voice, "My name is Posie Pillow, and I'm a pretty pretty princess! My name is weird, and so is my absurd purple dress! I like long walks on the beach, and I'm not over my old boyfriend yet! I want to settle down and get married and have a bunch of stupid, ugly, ginger babies, and never have any fun!" She paused and looked around the room, then hopped down off the stool. "You know what, walking a mile in Posie's shoes all this time has actually been a pretty enlightening experience for me."
"It's only been thirty seconds," Joe said. "And you didn't really walk a mile in her shoes so much as stand on a bar stool and make fun of her."
"I really feel like I understand the pull of old fashioned, small town family values now," she said.
"I don't like where this is going," Joe said.
He pivoted in his stool to face Stu and changed the subject. "So Stu, tell me about this project. You said you thought it would benefit mankind or something like that?"
Stu swallowed his ice cream, "Oh! No, I can't really talk about it."
"Is it a secret?" Joe asked.
"We have... direct competitors," Stu quickly formulated a half-truth. "Who we have reason to believe would... destroy our project if they knew too much information about it."
"But surely if you bowed off the project for moral reasons, you must not think it's so important to keep such a secret?" Joe continued to pressure him. "It's not like WE'RE you're direct competitors, right?"
"It's a non-disclosure thing," Stu shot back. Suddenly finding his confidence, he stood to his feet so he could look down on Joe. "And you should know, sir, that I would never... Ever.... Do anything to hurt my friends. And if I ever found out someone were out to hurt my friends... I would hunt them down. And I would stop them. By any means, and by all extremes."
"Golly," Joe smiled unflinchingly, staring right back into Stu's eyes. "I'd hate to be your direct competitors. You're a good friend, Stu. I admire that. Don't ever change."
"Would you look at that," Sasha said to Mallory. "The boys are saying really lovely things, but it still somehow looks like they're having a pissing contest."
"I thought they were gonna kiss," said Mallory. "Wait, which one's the homo again? Never mind, I don't care. Wait, no!" She stood up with her ice cream and walked over to the boys pleadingly. "I DO care! I'm sorry, I forgot I'm trying to be more lame! Like Posie! I DO care. I'm sorry. Now tell me. Which one of you is a homo?" She smiled sweetly.
Stu and Joe looked at her, then at each other, then back at her again.
Stu slowly raised his hand.
Mallory high fived it.
----
After Sasha plugged her cell phone into the overhead speakers and set up a dance music playlist, the night bloomed into a makeshift karaoke night, full of ice cream and alcohol and loud, clumsy renditions of overplayed pop tunes. After a couple hours, they turned the music down and played go-fish with a deck of cards from the lost and found bucket. Sasha stopped drinking at some point, and sobered up by the time she was set to start her morning routes. Stu changed into more comfortable clothes in the restroom, then they closed up shop, and loaded into the bus. Joe and Mallory lazily slinkied off at the stop for their hotel. The ride to Bellville felt longer; Stu rode mostly in silence, and Sasha didn't press him for further conversation. It was surreal to him to have spent his last night in Port Teague in the proverbial belly of the beast; staying up all night at a going away party thrown not only by practical strangers, but by the very people he'd been hiding Sok from. Equally surreal that he spent the night in the Cone Zone; a public shop, but one he practically grew up in. He thought he knew the ice cream shop pretty well by now, but he'd never gotten to know it in the dark behind a locked door with loud music before. Maybe it isn't just people who show you a different side of themselves when they know you're leaving; maybe everything does, even old buildings.
The sun came up during the drive, and was already lighting the city streets by the time he set foot on the sidewalk. The buildings might've cast a long shadow, if they weren't so tightly bunched together that a shadow wouldn't have room to grow. There was traffic since they broke through the threshold, and there would never stop being traffic for a single minute as long as he stayed there. He took a deep breath and accepted the noise. He was in Bellville now. A hundred faces and he was nobody to any of them.
Except one.
"Stu? Stu Silver?" A deep voice from his left said.
He looked and recognized Scott Cult. He looked more or less the same as in his online pictures, but with longer, messier morning hair. Stu'd never heard his voice before. It was deep and smooth like chocolate.
"Scott?" Stu smiled.
"You made it!" Scott beamed genuinely, showing off his big, white, charming teeth. "I'm so glad you decided to come to Bellville. I think you'll love it. We should get some coffee, and then we can go meet my roommates."
"You have roommates?" Stu asked.
"Of course!" Scott picked up a couple of Stu's bags, and they made their way down the street. "The housing market here is absurd. You can't just live here as a single person in our tax bracket without collecting a couple of couch surfers with wallets. That's not a problem for you, is it?" He asked earnestly.
"No, it's fine," Stu said reassuringly.
"Okay, that's good," Scott said, relieved. "Because full disclosure, not everyone that surfs in my flat is paying rent per say. There's one or two that are just friends who can't afford a roof right now. Sorry, I didn't mean to spring that on you, it was just so sudden, you taking me up on my offer, right? Anyways, they can be a little intense and kooky sometimes, but I promise they're really great once you get to know them."
"Hey," Stu stopped him, smiling sweetly. "Your friends sound great. I can't wait to meet them."
Scott smiled back, and his gait visibly relaxed.
'Holy cow, is he nervous to meet me?' Stu thought to himself.
They caught a table at a chain coffee shop for a good hour and a half; Scott mostly talked, Stu mostly listened, and they both had a pleasant time getting to know each other in person a little bit. Stu mentioned he'd been up all night and wouldn't argue with a nap, and Scott obliged to help him carry his luggage back to his place. He followed him down a little inconspicuous ally next to a little unassuming building, down a little staircase to an little unmarked door on the basement level. They had to duck beneath the door arch to get through it. It opened into a dark hallway, lit by hanging light bulbs in little cages like one expects from a mine shaft. The carpets were stained, and there were little bulges in the walls here and there, suggesting water damage. At the back of the hall, there was an open panel exposing bare wires. Stu followed Scott past most of the doors in the hall before finally opening one. Stu was surprised to see a normal looking, if windowless, two bedroom apartment - with a few more than two people hanging out in it.
"Hey, Squatt's back!" Said a man in a lampshade and poncho.
"Did that lamp just call you Squatt?" Asked Stu.
Scott blushed, "yeah, we give each other nicknames. That's Butt-Julio. Sitting next to him with the beard and pirate getup is Seasick Rick. The two dudes cuddling in the corner over there, we mostly just call 'Cuddle Puddle', since they're basically one person by now. Over there in the kitchen area, the wafty blonde girl is Ugg Boots, and the bootylicious black woman is Alabama Rectangle Spatula."
"Hola!" Greeted Ugg Boots.
"We're trying to make a meal made entirely out of beige ingredients," said Alabama. "So far we've got our beigest cheese on some mashed potatoes with little chicken cubes. Any thoughts?"
"Oh, do we still have corn?" Asked Butt-Julio.
"That's really more yellow, but maybe we can balance the overall pallet with some white sauce?" Ugg Boots answered.
"Is everyone here gay?" Asked Stu, sincerely.
"I am and you are," Scott answered. "And Butt-Julio is, and Seasick Rick is a pan-tran. Cuddle Puddle is some sort of osmosis, and the girls are both straight."
"I'm bilingual," said Ugg Boots.
"I'm a triceratops," said Alabama.
"What about that guy?" Stu pointed at an unintroduced guy in eyeliner who was sitting at the computer, acknowledging nobody.
"Oh, that's Will Spears," said Butt-Julio. "He's not gay, he's just a writer."
"Oh," Stu brightened up. "What are you working on? Is it like journals on our local politics and activism?"
Will swiveled in his computer chair to face him, "better! It's a zombie survival novel! Here's my pitch: an ATM repairman proposes to his girlfriend and gets rejected, when suddenly there's ZOMBIES! And so he and her drive to his hometown in a fictional far away place called the Columbia Gorge-"
"Nobody wants to hear about your stupid zombie book, Will," Butt-Julio interrupted. He turned to Stu, "Yo, don't let him rope you in, man, he once made me read a short story he wrote that was a Captain Crunch origin story."
Will chuckled, and turned back toward the computer, "you can all suck my butt drips."
"Hey Squatt," said Alabama. "You gonna introduce us to the new guy or what?"
"It's..." Scott stammered "...It's Stu. I told you about Stu. You knew he was coming."
"Yeah, but you just rattled all our names off, but not his. Don't you think he'd want to be included? Don't be rude, man, people love hearing their own names. Especially in that sexy James Earl Jones voice. No homo."
"His voice is like chocolate, right?" Stu nodded in agreement.
Scott double-blushed, "I'm not really sure you can say 'no homo' if you're a straight girl calling a gay man's voice sexy."
"Oh, okay, full homo then," she corrected.
"We don't have white sauce, but we do have button mushrooms," said Ugg Boots.
Butt-Julio stood to his feet to shake Stu's hand, "It's very nice to meet you, Stuzan. Your name is Stuzan now, by the way. No it's not, I'll think of a more clever name later. Anyways, you're going to fit in just fine here. There are more of us in the local activism community than are in this flat, as well, so you haven't met everyone yet. Doctor Stu Little. Nope, that's a bad name too. It'll come to me."
"You got here just in time, as a matter of fact," interjected Ugg Boots. "We're gonna flood the courthouse this week in a petition. The mayor is trying to pass another sneaky measure displacing a bunch of homeless people."
"Oh, that sounds terrible!" Stu gasped dramatically. "Sign me up!"
----
"This isn't exactly what I meant," Joe said as he and Mallory waltzed through the door of the Hummingbird and up to the counter. "And also, I was more than a little drunk last night."
Mallory ignored him and addressed Mrs. Thom, "Excuse me, ma'am, what's your sweetest beverage?"
"Oh, are you two still in town?" Mrs. Thom answered.
"Never mind, just dump a bunch of caramel and sugar into a mocha or something," Mallory compromised, as she leafed through a small open container of sugar substitute packets.
"Mallory," Joe said from behind her in line. "If you don't like sweets, you can't just DECIDE to like sweets."
She pivoted on her heel to face him, "I've made up my mind that I'm going to be sweeter, Joe. That was your idea. Don't try to talk me out of it now."
"Liking sweet tasting things doesn't make you sweeter as a person," Joe protested. "That's not how taste buds work. That's not how temperaments work."
"I'm sorry, which one of us is the chemist?" Mallory asked rhetorically, and pivoted back on her heels to face the counter. "Chocolate, for example, absolutely does interact with your brain chemistry producing a gentle high, which in turn helps combat depression, thus improving ones negative temperament."
"She's got you there," said Mrs. Thom.
"Hey, what's all this?" Asked Mallory, pointing at a small collection of saint icons on the wall.
"Oh those? The Yokels brought them in."
"Who are the Yokels?"
"We're the Yokels!" Two voices at once answered from behind them.
Mallory and Joe both turned to see the older couple waving at them from a small table.
"We've been coming here for a long time," said Mr. Yokel. "And we saw that all those pictures of their late daughter Nichole were here to stay."
"Poor Nick," Mrs. Yokel crossed herself. "I taught her piano when she was little."
Mr. Yokel continued, "So we asked Mrs. Thom here if we could hang up some of our own family who've gone on to the Kingdom of Heaven."
"Oh I see," said Joe. "Well that's all very interesting, but we'd better-"
"No no, I want to hear more," Mallory cut him off. "These paintings are of your relatives? Even that one that's clearly Mary and baby Jesus?"
"They're our brothers and sisters in Christ," nodded Mr. Yokel.
"We believe that to be absent from the world is to be present with the Lord," Mrs. Yokel explained. "We believe that our loved ones who we miss are closer to God than they've ever been. They can pray for us better than we ever could pray for each other here in our earthly lives."
"Even though we believe death itself isn't exactly natural," Mr. Yokel continued. "It's a perfectly human impulse to keep pictures and photos of the ones we've lost, and carry them with us, and kiss them, and sometimes talk to them."
"I see," Mallory pulled up a seat at their table.
Joe stayed at the counter, "Okay, I guess we're doing this. Can I get a coffee? Black is fine."
"So you two are small town religious types?" Mallory asked them.
"I suppose you could call us that," chuckled Mr. Yokel. "We're Eastern Orthodox."
"So you're all about being nice?" Mallory pressed.
Mrs. Yokel responded, "We're about being good, dear. Maybe not all at once. It's better to be honest and repentant than to put on a false show of piety."
"Mmmhmm, I see, I see," Mallory nodded. "So look, here's the thing. All my life I've been a very naughty girl."
"Poor phrasing," Joe called her out from across the room.
She continued, "and I've been pretty well able to get my way so far. Just being abrasive and taking whatever I want, and rolling with the punches."
The Yokels nodded along as she talked.
She continued, "but now I've come to understand that there are certain feats of evil I can't achieve, certain objects I can't selfishly steal for my own... certain people I can't dominate and terrorize, if you will... unless I learn how to be good and nice."
Mr. Yokel raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his tea.
Mrs. Yokel nodded thoughtfully and said, "Dear, if I understand you correctly, you're saying you want to learn how to be good..."
"So that I can achieve higher feats of evil, yes," Mallory said.
The Yokels looked at each other and then back at Mallory.
Mr. Yokel said, "You know, you actually remind me a little of Nick."
"What?!" Mallory sat straight up in genuine shock.
"Oh, we watched that little grow up, didn't we?" Mrs. Yokel nodded. "Boy, when she was a little girl, she used to kick up such a storm of trouble. Acting out, going from one thing she wasn't supposed to do, to another, seemed like all day long. What a little terror. Knocking stuff over, hitting the other kids, and refusing to apologize for it even after countless punishments."
"Ah, but then she learned," Mr. Yokel put his index finger to the air. "She learned that she got her way more often when she behaved. That's the way all children go, but she was an especially tough nut to crack. And she only ever did nice things to butter people up so she could get the things she wanted."
Mrs. Yokel continued, "as she got older, she got to being nicer to people just out of habit. And that's where it stops for a lot of people, even most adults. Just mere habitual niceness, enough to participate in civilized society, and maintain decent rapport with other people. Nick could have stopped there too. But she didn't. Little Nick Thom, who used to kick and scratch, and laugh when other people fell down in the dirt, learned a certain amount of altruism. She went on to empathize with people who were hurting, and do things for others without expecting a reward."
"Mmhmm, I see, I see," Mallory nodded thoughtfully. "Well, first of all, and with all due respect, screw you guys for comparing my behavior to that of a small child. Totall dick move, here's two birds for that." She politely flipped them both off, then folded her hands in front of her and continued. "Secondly, and again, with all due respect, that's stupid. Why should anyone do something good for its own sake, with no expectation of reward?"
"Do you ever do anything bad for its own sake, with no expectation of reward?" Mr. Yokel asked.
"touché," said Mallory.
Mr. Yokel leaned in, "It was our very own first humans who did the very first bad thing with the expectation of reward, and instead it resulted in the curse of sin and death for all of us through the ages. But our God who is Love became man in the person of Jesus and sacrificed himself, conquering the curse of sin and death for us. The gates of hades have been unlocked and remain wide open because of love. Shouldn't we then strive to love no less than that?"
"Altruistic love like that almost never succeeds," Mallory scoffed.
"Ah, true love may not always succeed, but it always tries," Mrs. Yokel smiled sweetly.
"Okay, last question," Mallory leaned in closer to Mrs. Yokel. "What are you going to do about it?"
"About what?" She asked.
Without hesitation, Mallory reached across the table, picked up Mrs. Yokel's hot tea and dumped it on her lap. Mrs. Yokel yelped, and clambered backwards out of her seat pulling her dress away from her body. Mr. Yokel leapt to his feet and grabbed a wad of napkins.
"Are you going to answer my question?" Mallory asked calmly, still sitting at the table.
They continued drying off her dress, but they glanced at Mallory briefly, and Mrs. Yokel said, "oh, we forgive you, of course. What a rotten thing to do, but we forgive you."
"And you'll forgive us," Mr. Yokel added firmly, frowning. "But we must cut the philosophics short for now, we'd best be off to get my wife a new dress. I hope you got what you needed out of all that." They crossed themselves and left the Hummingbird.
"I should kick you out!" Mrs. Thom fumed from behind the counter. "What are you doing harassing my customers like that?!"
"That's really interesting," Mallory mused. "They forgave me."
"Mal, now might not be the best time for character development," suggested Joe. "Technically you just assaulted an old lady."
"And I'm kicking you out!" repeated Mrs. Thom. "Please leave! And I don't mean please! I just said it out of habit!"
"Come on, let's go," Joe ushered her out the door.
Outside, they made their way down to the port.
"I really am trying to be sweeter," Mallory insisted. "But that couple is bananas, right? I mean, how did they live so long and still only learn the lessons that turned them into elderly doormats?"
"You're lucky they're doormats!" Joe said, frustrated. "People have gotten serious burns from hot beverages. They had a legitimate reason to SUE you! You could've put us all in a very difficult situation!"
Mallory continued, "This has been an eye opening experience for me, Joe. The Yokels have no drama in their marriage. They don't fight, they don't argue, they wear suspenders and pastel dresses, and hang religious paintings on the walls of other people's coffee shops. They're vanilla. Do me a favor, if I ever even consider going down that path, shoot me."
"Does that mean you're not going to try and win E.J. back?" Joe asked.
"No, he's going to marry me whether he likes it or not," she shot back.
"Does that mean you're not going to try and be sweeter?"
Mallory stopped and slowly dawned a smile that was somehow both innocently sweet, and also serial killer creepy.
"I'm going to give everyone diabetes, that's how sweet I'm gonna be!"
----
Melvin Hemmingway woke up to the sound of a gentle white noise, like a sizzling, or a splattering. He noticed it briefly, but didn't give it much thought, brushing it off as a summer rain. He cracked his eyes open, but kept them squinted against the bright morning sunlight his eyes hadn't adjusted to. The back of Posie's head was directly in front of him, frizzy red hair tickling his nose. He'd gotten used to the smell of her vaguely floral shampoo, but this morning he smelled a hint of bacon in it. How strange, did she switch? He closed his eyes back up and listened to her heavy sleep breathing.
'She's so close, but so far away,' he thought. 'She's wrapped in my arms, but she's miles away, lost in a dream somewhere.'
He squeezed her a little tighter. She moved her arm, and inhaled audibly, but didn't wake up. He held still. 'She's so beautiful. Maybe that's just the nature of beauty, that I'd want to participate in it. Maybe if I stay still, she'll keep being comfortable enough with me. I love waking up with her like this, to the sound of her heavy breathing against the summer rain; to the smell of her bacon shampoo... wait, bacon shampoo? Don't be ridiculous. She's clearly cooking actual bacon. That's why you smell bacon. And that's not summer rain, because the morning sunlight is too bright for it to be raining. You're hearing the bacon sizzle. But how is she cooking bacon if she's asleep in bed with me?'
His eyelids shot open. He sat up and looked over her head and saw Sok in the kitchen, waving at him with an oven mitt. Sok is cooking. He sprang out of bed, and galloped like a gazelle into the kitchen. To his surprise, he found there was a perfectly normal pan, cooking perfectly normal bacon at a perfectly reasonable temperature.
"Good morning, Malween!" Sok said affectionately.
"When did you learn how to cook?" Melvin asked, perplexed, but relieved she wasn't burning the burning down.
"Sok watch!" She grinned.
"What's with the oven mitts?"
"Bacon bite me," she answered, grimacing, as she pointed with a spatula in her mitt at the pan, which was splattering bacon grease everywhere.
"I see," Melvin relaxed.
"Sok not know how to eggs," Sok implored.
"How come you're not making a dish from your home planet?" He asked.
Sok looked around the kitchen, then leaned toward Melvin and asked quietly, "Where Malween keeps his goonthlog seeds?"
Melvin blushed, "Oh, of course. No alien ingredients. Forgive me, I just woke up and I haven't had any coffee yet."
Sok nodded, "Sok not know how to coffee."
"Here, I'll help," Melvin helped Sok finish off the bacon, walked her through setting up the drip coffee filter, how to crack an egg, and how to grate cheese. It was hard not to smile at how excited she was to learn everything. She tried to grate the cheese with the oven mitts still on at first, and once she took them off and got the hang of it, she kept stopping to pick at the shredded cheese and eat it. She was acting so childlike, one almost forgets...
Melvin stopped smiling, "Hey Sok?"
She looked up at him with cheese in her mouth.
"Did you really tell Stu he was broken?"
She swallowed, and also stopped smiling, but didn't answer.
"Do you understand what I'm asking you?"
She nodded, and finally said, "I not mean to wound Shtu."
"Okay," Melvin said. "But then what did you mean?"
Sok thought for a minute, then started talking to herself, looking for the right translation. She finally said, "Shtu think the simple become the complex. But the simple only come from the complex. It is as to say a house build a man."
Melvin groaned, "Aww, is that all this is about? Creationism? You two got into a religious debate, and he got butthurt and left? That's so dumb!"
Sok shook her head, "Shtu have wound! Shtu leave because Sok poked Shtu wound!"
"No, Stu isn't wounded, Sok," Melvin said. "You can't just go around saying stuff like that."
"I wait," Sok shot back. "And I hide. And Malween and Posie and Shtu look for ship for Sok to go home and safe. And I trust. And I obey. But Sok come to planet look for broken boosh. I find broken boosh and I find broken people. I find broken boosh, who make broken people, who make more broken people. Big problem. I do not know how to fix. But Sok is no broken. Malween not tell Sok what is right. Malween is mad for Shtu to go. But Sok no make Shtu go. Shtu go because Shtu likes his wounds. I do not know how to fix anything."
"Look," Melvin replied, calmly. "I'm not gonna tear down your culture's whole religious history before breakfast. And I'm not gonna try, cause that's insane. But you're not gonna fly here and tear ours down either. We don't think of ourselves as wounded. Whether you think we are or not, you can't say it, because it's insulting. And shameful for both of you. Like if someone's bald, you don't just rip off their wig and go 'haha, you're bald!' or else... wild bears might come and eat you."
"Heyyyyyy," Posie stirred lazily from the bed. "What's happening? Do I smell bacon?" She slowly rolled off the bed and over to the kitchen, where she stood to her feet and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. When they adjusted, she saw Sok, waving at her with an oven mit and spatula, wearing a "kiss the cook's butt" apron, which had been splashed with grease.
"Aww, what?" She groaned. "Sok can cook now? The space alien can cook now, but I can't? Can everyone cook but me? I am the worst female."
"No you're not," Melvin said. "Also, that's kind of sexist."
"Girls can't be sexist," Posie muttered groggily as she poured several cups of coffee, one for her, the rest for Melvin. "Girls can do anything boys can do, except be sexist."
Melvin chuckled, as he and Sok portioned the food onto plates. They all sat on the floor at the table, Posie licked her thumb and crossed herself, then they all began to eat.
"I think I might've made a decision about my future," said Posie, once she'd finally woken up enough.
"What do you mean?" Melvin asked.
"You remember," she pointed at him with her fork. "I was having a lot of trouble figuring out what my ambitions were? I didn't apply to any colleges, and I dressed like a bee that day, cause I thought maybe I'd go be an airplane pilot?"
"Oh, well, I'm not Manic," said Melvin. "You don't need to-"
"No, stop," Posie cut him off. "It's not like that. I'm done talking about Manic. Just tell me something. When you think of yourself growing old, where do you see yourself?"
"No, stop," Posie cut him off. "It's not like that. I'm done talking about Manic. Just tell me something. When you think of yourself growing old, where do you see yourself?"
"Oh," Melvin swallowed his food. "I always kind of thought of myself as becoming one of those lighthouse operators. Like I'd retire into a lighthouse, and guide ships to shore from the ocean. I'd live on tomatoes I'd grow, and whatever clams I can dig up with one of those big metal cylinders, and the local kids would all be too scared to talk to me, cause I've got a glass eye, and everyone thinks I'm some kind of pirate." He saw Posie was listening intently, and started to stammer. "I mean... that's what I... that's what I USED to always think of myself doing. I'm not married to it, obviously I'd... I'd factor in whatever YOU'D want to do at that age, and we could come to some kind of agree... oh well, not that we're definitely gonna get married... oh crap, I said married, I didn't mean to be so foreward... I mean not that I DON'T want to get married, that'd be great... I mean, not that I'm pressuring you, or anything... I just know we haven't been together that long and I didn't want to make any... assumptions..."
Posie nodded along politely as he continued to trip over his thoughts, without stopping him.
Sok did what she always does when the humans start talking to each other without giving her translator a chance to catch up: she listened like an outsider, about ten seconds or so behind the conversation, giggled to herself, and waited till someone addressed her personally. Melvin noticed her audibly giggling across the table.
He took a deep breath, "What about you, Posie? Where do you see yourself as an elderly?"
"I..." she started, smiling nervously. "I sorta lost my train of thought there. Your lighthouse fantasy is pretty cool. You should definitely do that. I mean..." she imitated his stammer. "If I don't happen to still be around when you're an elderly. Not that we can't both live in a lighthouse, I suppose. Wait, do people actually live in the lighthouses? I thought the only things in there were a spiral staircase and a giant bat signal light?"
"I'm not sure," he said, thoughtfully.
"I think we should go to church though," she offered.
"Church?" He asked, surprised.
"Yeah, we used to go to church when I was little," she said. "We used to go to that one that's abandoned now, in the middle of town, but then after that we went to the Fire of the Holy Pentecost church. A long time ago, before they got all fundamentalist and started going out to Bellville to protest the gay bars."
"That's right," Melvin remembered. "I went with you once in grade school, cause you were in the Christmas pageant. You were one of the wise men, and you had a fake beard made out of felt. Ironic that they protest LGBT stuff now."
"Uh, yeah," Posie rubbed the back of her neck. "I didn't remember you saw that. That's kind of embarrassing."
"So is this a nostalgic thing, then?" He asked.
"No, I was gonna say," she pointed at him with her fork. "I don't have career ambitions per say, but I do kind of want to be like the Yokels when I grow old. Can't you picture it? Growing old together, slowly taking over a church pew like it's a land grab? Getting to know our community over coffee at public bible studies? Our kids making friends in Sunday school? We could teach them all piano! Oh, can't you just picture it, Melvin?"
"I..." Melvin hadn't expected to get roped into church, but she was talking so confidently about growing old together and having children, he couldn't quite bring himself to shut her down about it.
"Oh, I mean, I'm sorry, obviously communal living in a church community is a little different than your lighthouse thing, where you're living alone," she apologized. "I understand if that's a deal breaker."
"No, no, it's fine," Melvin reassured her, unconvincingly, and continued to frown while he considered the whole thing.
"We can find a church community on the coast?" She suggested. He laughed. She laughed too. So did Sok, but she was laughing at the way her earpiece pronounced "Yokel".
"We can see how it goes," Melvin took a drink of his coffee. "It's not such a weird idea. We're eating breakfast with a creationist space alien, after all. A monotheist, even. And the boosh and the broken boosh might as well be angels and demons. There's no reason for a coincidence like that, unless there's something to those old mythologies."
"I hadn't even thought of that," Posie answered with a mouth full of cheese and egg.
"Just, let's not go to the Fire of the Holy Pentecost, okay?" Melvin insisted. "I don't think we'll hear the end of it from Stu."
"No, yeah, that makes total sense," said Posie. "Which one should we go to then?"
"What one do the Yokels go to?" Asked Melvin.
"You know what, I don't know," admitted Posie. "They taught piano, and talked about Jesus a lot, and hung all those religious paintings, but they never actually went to any churches with me. You know what, I think they might go to the weird one with the onion domes."
"The one in the woods?" Melvin asked. "By all the creeks? I thought that was a mosque."
"No, cause it's got the crosses on the top," Posie put her fork and butterknife over her head in the shape of a cross.
"We should probably just ask them. I don't want to guess."
"Okay," Posie smiled.
They ate in silence, Posie feeling warm and fuzzy that Melvin agreed to her idea, and proud of herself for having picked an ambition. Melvin felt warm and fuzzy too, but also a little scared; he finally felt like she was committing to being his partner, making long term decisions together. Sok touched her finger to her earpiece and pressed it in a little to hear better, as it was translating the parts about church, and about her, and about angels and demons. She looked up silently at Melvin and Posie. She thought she heard someone use the word 'angel' before, but it was such a hit and run, and it didn't translate. Now she was beginning to think maybe the humans knew exactly what a boosh was after all, and were holding out on her.
After her talk with Melvin about shaming a bald man, she figured she didn't know what was okay to ask about and what wasn't, so she kept silent and ate her breakfast, wondering to herself exactly how deep the wounds of this planet run.
----
The summer rains began later that morning after all, and continued in Port Teague over the next couple of weeks. The windsurfing tourism took to a grinding halt, and the tourists that were left mostly holed up in the resorts, coming out to fill the local restaurants at regular intervals. Some daring photographers were spotted with their umbrellas and plastic-wrapped cameras braving the riverside. Posie and Melvin didn't happen across the Yokels, and decided two Sundays in a row to sleep in rather than walk across town in the rain to a church that might be a mosque where they might not even know anyone.
Melvin went out a couple evenings after work to walk by a couple of warehouses he knew in town, to see if any of them looked occupied by government activity. They weren't. They attempted, on a couple of occasions, to subtly see if they could get E.J. to slip up on his work location. He didn't. They settled into a comfortable routine that mostly consisted of working, cooking, grocery shopping, visiting with each other's parents, and talking with Sok about each other's planets. They occasionally took a break to watch television shows on one of their tiny cell phone screens. Sok loved the Wizard of Oz, and requested to watch it three times.
Stu occasionally sent a text message to check up on them, but only Melvin ever texted back. He apparently liked his new friends, and pretty much immediately started shacking up with that Scott fellow, but found it hard to get used to city living, and felt like he was playing nanny to some guy named Butt-Julio while he struggled with some medical condition he wouldn't name.
E.J., Mallory, and Joe ran dry on physical leads to the location of the alien, but they continued to ask around here and there. Joe and Mallory spent more and more time in the hotel rooms solving other fringe cases remotely, while E.J. consumed his time obsessively translating things from the fish rocket, randomly, and without guidance.
It was hard for everyone not to feel like they'd hit a bit of a stalemate.
By the time the weather finally cleared up, the town started setting up the rides for the county fair. Whatever tourism got lost to the rain was about to be compensated for by the allure of haystacks, cotton candy, cheap rides and booth games. E.J. contacted Melvin one clear Sunday morning about everyone hanging out at the fair next weekend, especially for the fireworks on the last night, and Melvin and Posie began seriously discussing whether or not they could sneak Sok in with them.
"It'd a dangerous idea," said Melvin.
"But what better way for her to experience Earth culture than the fair?" Protested Posie.
"It's a really dangerous idea," insisted Melvin.
"But look at her, she really wants to go," Posie pointed at Sok, who smiled and nodded. "How can you say no to a face like that?"
"Cotton candy," said Sok pointedly.
"What are we going to do, disguise her?" Asked Melvin. "I don't think a sun hat and shades are going to be quite enough around all those people. Especially not E.J."
"What if I made her an outfit like one of those blue indian gods?" She suggested.
"That's gonna attract attention," Melvin said. "There's no reason for anyone to come to the fair dressed like that, and we want her to mostly go ignored."
"How about a mascot outfit?"
"All day? Won't that be too hot?"
"Maybe we can get some really breathable modest clothes, and slap a lot of makeup on whatever skin is left exposed? Or what if you and I painted ourselves blue?"
Melvin sighed, "we can try that, but if it looks weird..."
"Or what if we sneak her in with the blue man group?"
"The blue man group isn't coming to Port Teague for a cheap county fair."
"Well, what about one of the bluegrass bands, then?"
"Bluegrass bands aren't actually blue. I feel like we're getting farther away from a practical solution here."
Posie thought for a second, "well, what about charge fields?"
"What are charge fields?" Melvin asked.
"Like, maybe Sok has something that can emit a field of charge photons around her body that interact with the visible photons in a useful way? Like to adjust her pallet?"
"Photons are... like those little light molecules?" Melvin asked.
"Light particles, yeah," Posie grinned. "Sok, do you have anything like that?"
Sok pointed at her ear and said, "I have earpiece translates language."
"We have a week to think about it," Melvin said. "It might not work out. In the meantime, it's a clear day, why don't we suck it up and go to the church?"
"Oh, alright," Posie ho-hummed. "Sok, are you alright here?"
"Leave your phone," said Sok. "I will watch Wizard of Oz."
---
Off one of the main roads, up into the trees, Melvin and Posie walked arm in arm up to the church building as people were pulling in with their cars.
"I never gave this place much thought before," said Melvin. "But it looks like a building from Aladdin."
"It's a little out of place in this town, isn't it? Especially right in the woods like this," agreed Posie. "Maybe we should go home."
"I'm no square," said Melvin.
Right as he said that, she spotted the Yokels getting out of one of those old station wagons with the fake wood paneling. Mrs. Yokel had a head scarf on.
"Are you sure this isn't a mosque?" Asked Melvin.
"Yes, because of the crosses," answered Posie, who then powerwalked over to the Yokels waving. "Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Yokel!"
Melvin followed a few paces behind her.
"Oh, Posie!" Mrs. Yokel smiled and extended her arms for a hug. Posie awkwardly shook her hand.
"I was wondering if you came to this church," Posie said. "I was right."
"How lovely to see you," Mrs. Yokel said. "Are you here for the divine liturgy?"
"Gross, no," said Melvin. "We're just here for the church service."
The Yokels lead Melvin and Posie up the stairs and through the doors, and were met with a wall of frankincense smell. The inside was like an explosion to every sense; besides just the smell, there were candles up front, the walls were covered in icon paintings, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling. The main room was like a mosh pit; the four of them squeezed through several people on their way through the doors and to the side of the room where there was a bench. There were some people in robes at the front, two behind a podium chanting something, and a couple running around weaving through the doors of a short dividing wall. Everyone in the room was moving around, crossing themselves, chanting along, and kissing the icon paintings. At one point, a man came out and started shaking smoke all over the place. Mr. Yokel was out in the middle of the chaos, chanting along. Mrs. Yokel sat on the bench next to Melvin and Posie, who were watching in stunned silence.
She leaned into the pair and asked, "is this your first time at an Orthodox liturgy?"
They looked at her with their jaws hanging stupidly open, and silently nodded.
"It's a bit of a shock to the senses the first time, isn't it?" She smiled knowingly.
Melvin said, "Are we still in America? I can't even tell what year it is."
"That's by design, dear," said Mrs. Yokel. "Watch this."
As she said that, the priest came out, and everyone suddenly stopped and sat cross legged on the floor and listened while he delivered a short exposition covering a bible passage about vines and branches. It was over almost as soon as it began, and everyone stood back up and turned back into a chanting mosh pit. After awhile, most of the room glommed together into something like a line, while the priest fed them spoonfuls of something out of a chalice. Mrs. Yokel patted Posie on the knee and told the two of them to wait there, and not get in line.
"This whole morning has been an anachronism," Posie whispered to Melvin.
"I don't know what that means," Melvin whispered back. "I wish you weren't colorblind, this room is pretty intense."
"What are you talking about?" Posie whispered, looking him dead in the eye. "I'm not colorblind."
"This whole morning has been an anachronism," Posie whispered to Melvin.
"I don't know what that means," Melvin whispered back. "I wish you weren't colorblind, this room is pretty intense."
"What are you talking about?" Posie whispered, looking him dead in the eye. "I'm not colorblind."
After the liturgy was over, everyone evacuated downstairs into a cafeteria-like room with plastic folding tables, and stood in line for a potluck spread. The priest came out again and everyone stood while he prayed over the food, and at the end of it, the whole room sang "Lord have mercy!" Almost immediately, the room turned back into a bustle of talking and gabbing like nothing happened; as though all at once they were back in present day America.
Posie and Melvin sat at a table across from the Yokels, and had a lot of questions.
"Is this a cult?" Asked Melvin bluntly. The Yokels were caught off guard for a second, but then chuckled.
"No, my boy," Mr. Yokel said. "It's the Orthodox Christian Church."
"Why wasn't my old church like this?" Asked Posie. "The one I grew up in?"
"I don't know which church you went to, dear," said Mrs. Yokel.
"Is there still angels and demons here?" Melvin asked.
"We believe in angels and demons, if that's what you're asking," said Mrs. Yokel.
"What about aliens?" Pried Melvin.
Mr. and Mrs. Yokel looked at each other. Mr. Yokel scratched his head, "I'm not sure, m'boy."
"Um," Mrs. Yokel offered. "We're supposed to be hospitable to travelers and visitors. I think that aught to about cover it, right?"
"I mean, I guess," Posie furrowed his brow. "Are they saved? Like, when they die, are they... saved? Or whatever?"
"Salvation is from sin," Mr. Yokel explained. "And sin just means 'to miss the mark'. I know what I personally need to work on in my own life to be a better human. That's enough work for me."
"Is there still angels and demons here?" Melvin asked.
"We believe in angels and demons, if that's what you're asking," said Mrs. Yokel.
"What about aliens?" Pried Melvin.
Mr. and Mrs. Yokel looked at each other. Mr. Yokel scratched his head, "I'm not sure, m'boy."
"Um," Mrs. Yokel offered. "We're supposed to be hospitable to travelers and visitors. I think that aught to about cover it, right?"
"I mean, I guess," Posie furrowed his brow. "Are they saved? Like, when they die, are they... saved? Or whatever?"
"Salvation is from sin," Mr. Yokel explained. "And sin just means 'to miss the mark'. I know what I personally need to work on in my own life to be a better human. That's enough work for me."
"Hey, how did you two fall in love?" Asked Posie. "Sorry to change the subject like that, I just wondered... how did you two meet and start dating?"
"Oh, it was actually Jason Thane that introduced us," said Mrs. Yokel.
"Wait, seriously?" Melvin asked. "The guy in the haunted house that eats his mail?"
The Yokels looked at each other awkwardly, then Mr. Yokel leaned in a little. "Well, he wasn't always that way. We used to be friends. Back during the Festival."
"Oh, man," said Melvin. "It didn't even occur to me you guys would've been alive for the Festival."
"Oh yes, we're very old," chuckled Mrs. Yokel. "We were about your age at the time. I came out from Bellville to see the Teague Sisters, and Olaf had a tarot card booth."
"Teague sisters like the witches?" Asked Posie.
"Yes, that's them," Answered Mrs. Yokel. "They were a bluegrass band. I'm not sure how much witchcraft they actually practiced. It was sort of their gimmick, though, that they got their musical talent from a deal with the devil at the crossroads."
"Their dad, Joseph Teague, put on the festival," recounted Mr. Yokel. "He was a charming man, really intense and organized. Everyone was having so much fun, he single handedly kept the festival going for a month! Then, when nobody wanted to leave, he built the port and all the old warehouses that used to get used as farmer's market halls! He turned this tent city into a certified functional town! You know, I don't remember that man ever actually running for mayor."
Mrs. Yokel continued, "So Jason Thane was a stagehand, and a friend of Olaf's. I don't remember meeting him officially, but somehow I ended up in his tent, high as a kite, with him and Olaf. And Hannah Teague, the mandolin player."
Mr. Yokel blushed, "This next part is a little embarrassing, but it's best to be honest."
Mrs. Yokel continued, "Hannah and I found out in short order that we were pregnant. I was with Olaf's child, and Hannah was with Jason's. The boys proposed to us like gentlemen, and like ladies we accepted. I unfortunately miscarried, but Olaf here married me anyways."
"When you know you've found the one, you just know, you know?" smiled Mr. Yokel.
Melvin asked, "they say Jason left Hannah for another woman?"
"He had wandering eyes, I'm afraid," Mrs. Yokel confirmed.
"And she cursed him?" Asked Posie.
Mr. Yokel recounted, "I remember him telling me about that curse. Joseph Teague already hated Jason for getting his daughter pregnant out of wedlock, and Hannah's sisters didn't seem to care much for him either. He told me he felt a lot of hostility from the family. And he wasn't actually in love with Hannah to begin with; he was just trying to be stand up and honorable. Then he met some other girl, and it stopped being worth it for him, so he abandoned her and their unborn child. He mentioned Hannah and her sisters showed up at his tent one day and put a curse of demonic torment on him, but nothing really happened. Then she and the new baby skipped town."
Mrs. Yokel said, "Of course nowadays, since he's lost his marbles, everyone's calling it the curse. Isn't that just the way of sorcery and divination, though, you say something vague with a lot of solemnity and importance, and eventually something will come along that you can apply it to."
"That's really interesting," said Posie. "I'd never heard the whole story before."
"So tell me, dears," Mrs. Yokel said. "Now that you've been to a liturgy, do you think you'll come back again?"
"It's not exactly what I had in mind when I suggested going to church..." Posie started.
"Yeah, I think we'll be back," said Melvin.
"We will?" Posie turned to looked at him.
"I like it," smiled Melvin. "It's medieval and smells like Christmas. And let's be real. We're not adults. Not just us, I mean nobody. There's all this pressure now that we've graduated to go be reverent productive members of some meaningless system, but nobody ever actually bothered to sell us why. I can't hardly take it seriously, and frankly you seem terrified of it."
"And you think this place...?" Posie started.
Melvin turned to the Yokels, "hey guys. I recently started dating the girl of my dreams. But I keep messing things up cause I get so jealous all the time. Can your God help me be better at this?"
Mr. Yokel nodded, "like I said, m'boy. Salvation is from sin. You'll have to work at it though."
"Then it's already more meaningful than the Cone Zone," said Melvin decidedly.
"Yeah, I think we'll be back," said Melvin.
"We will?" Posie turned to looked at him.
"I like it," smiled Melvin. "It's medieval and smells like Christmas. And let's be real. We're not adults. Not just us, I mean nobody. There's all this pressure now that we've graduated to go be reverent productive members of some meaningless system, but nobody ever actually bothered to sell us why. I can't hardly take it seriously, and frankly you seem terrified of it."
"And you think this place...?" Posie started.
Melvin turned to the Yokels, "hey guys. I recently started dating the girl of my dreams. But I keep messing things up cause I get so jealous all the time. Can your God help me be better at this?"
Mr. Yokel nodded, "like I said, m'boy. Salvation is from sin. You'll have to work at it though."
"Then it's already more meaningful than the Cone Zone," said Melvin decidedly.
"Really?" Posie looked at him sideways.
"Yeah, really," Melvin insisted.
"Alright," nodded Posie. "I guess we'll see you next week."
---
"Woah, what happened here?" Joe asked as he walked into the warehouse and stepped over the smashed and gory remains of a cherry cupcake. Fej hopped off his shoulders and began to lick at the frosting. There were smashed cakes and crumbled cookies and spilled cups of melted ice cream all over the floor surrounding E.J., who was just standing there, brooding in the eye of a baked good storm aftermath.
He held up his hand to show Joe his phone, "I just got off the phone with the higher ups. We're being pulled from the project."
"Oh no!" Joe gasped.
"They're sending people in by the weekend to contain the warehouse. We're only on the job until then to keep the ship secure here."
"That blows! So we're supposed to just go back to traveling around the country telling paranoid people that their alien abductions are actually sleep paralysis? After being here all this time investigating the real thing?"
"I tried to sell them on us," E.J. grumbled. "I tried to convince them that it would be worth their while, and be a positive economic support for the town, to start up a research and development department here based on reverse engineering alien tech, with us fronting it. But they don't give a flying crap about us."
"What are we going to do?" Asked Joe.
"There's nothing we can do," answered E.J. "I already threw a temper tantrum and destroyed all these cakes."
"Yeah, hey, where did all these cakes come from?" Asked Joe.
"Mallory keeps bringing them to me," he answered. "She's been acting really weird lately. She died her hair blonde."
"I saw that."
"If you want, I can pick some of this cake up, so that you can smash it," E.J. offered.
"No thanks," said Joe. "What if we found our alien before the higher ups get here?"
"I suppose we could try and use it as leverage to stay on the project," mused E.J. "It's a long shot. Even bagging our alien at this point is a bit of a long shot. It could be anywhere by now. It's been weeks and the trail is cold."
"Well, we know it's humanoid and blue. If it's smart, it would've stayed close to the water. And if it found a source of food anywhere nearby, I doubt it would've strayed too far. What about that county fair?"
"Yes, Mallory and I were gonna hang out at the fair with Melvin and Posie. You're welcome to join us."
"That's a great idea. And it's one last chance to cover a lot of ground seeing what people around town have seen lately. And who knows, maybe it'll smell the carnival food and show itself."
"Will you tell Mallory that's the plan?" E.J. asked.
"Why do you want me to do it?" Joe asked. "She's been very pleasant lately."
"Yeah, that's actually what's creeping me out," said E.J.
"Fair enough," Joe took a ring pop out of his cargos, gave it a lick, picked up his lizard and walked out of the warehouse.
E.J. hopped into the fish rocket and took a few deep breaths trying to calm his nerves. He took the earpiece out of his pocket and touched the lights, so that he could read more of what the alien spacecraft had to say. 'Might as well', he thought. 'Not gonna get another chance after this.'
When he projected a random passage into English, he had to rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing it correctly. He was. It was a whole article dedicated to boosh lore. He read that the boosh are invisible creatures, created as higher beings to be members of the Council of the Author. Despite being created as higher beings, they were nevertheless charged with serving as overseers of creation. He read about the hierarchy of the boosh, and the different tiers and their purview; some oversee whole planets, and all the way down to boosh who serve voluntarily as guardians of specific people. He read a little further and discovered a mythological story about a rebellion in the council, and that a boosh in charge of one planet sought to overthrow the Author himself, and a great many boosh were cast to his planet and encased in a cage at the limits of the atmosphere. This planet, ruled by the rebel boosh, was hidden away in the sky, for thousands of years, to protect the other planets from its perpetual invisible warfare. When he pressed a light to go to the next portion, the wall illuminated with a picture; an artist's depiction of what a boosh looks like. E.J. recognized it immediately. It was a mess of wings and feathers, all the wings had hundreds of eyes on it in fractal patterns, and in the center, barely obscured by the wings, was a humanoid face.
"You've got to be kidding me," muttered E.J., feeling his stomach drop. It was almost identical to old school Earth depictions of Judeo-Christian angels. "These damn dirty aliens have been here the whole time."
E.J. leapt out of the fish rocket and stood on the lid looking around the mostly empty warehouse. It all looked normal, no unusual sounds or movements. Were they here? He was effectively creeped out.
Invisible warfare? How do you even begin to rescue your planet from the trenches of a war that's been raging invisibly for thousands of years? Wait, "warfare"? That means...
"Hey boosh!" He called into the empty room. "Show yourselves!"
Nothing happened.
"I know you're here!" He continued. "I've got a deal to make with you!"
Nothing happened. Maybe there weren't any boosh in the warehouse. "Okay fine!" He called. "If you won't come to me, I'll come to you."
He jumped off the rocket, slipped in some cake, fell onto his butt, got back up, and stormed out of the warehouse.
----
"Open up! Ouch!" E.J. pounded on the door to Jason Thane's house and a piece of wood splintered into his fist. He backed up, adjusted his goggles, and kicked the door. It swung all the way open, hit the wall, then fell off its hinges onto the floor, kicking up dust in all directions. The sunlight flooded into the dark living room all the way to the sofa, where old man Thane sat on an antique looking colonial-style floral sofa. He stared directly at E.J., devoid of emotional expression.
"Get out of my house, you intruder!" Jason said without blinking.
"I'm here to make a deal with you," E.J. said calmly.
"Don't you know this house is haunted?" Jason warned. "Don't you know I'm cursed and demon possessed?"
E.J. slowly stepped toward him.
"Keep back!" Jason warned, still not blinking or showing emotional expression, or moving from the sofa.
"I'm here to make a deal with you," E.J. repeated.
"I'm just an old man, I've got nothing you would want!" Jason protested.
"I'm not talking to you, Jason," E.J. stopped halfway into the living room. "I'm talking to the demon. Or should I say the boosh?"
Jason stayed still for a minute, then said, "that's an awfully interesting vocabulary, little boy."
"I've got an awfully interesting deal to make with you," E.J. smugly replied.
"I'm just an old man, I've got nothing you would want," Jason repeated.
"STOP LYING TO ME!" E.J. shouted as he picked up a chair and threw it across the room into a wall.
"Let me rephrase," said Jason, still unmoving. The furniture in the room, the shelves, end tables, coffee table, and chairs began to shake and levitate off the floor. "You're just a little boy, you've got nothing I would want."
E.J. shuttered. It was real after all.
"Are you one of the ones who's stuck here?" E.J. asked.
"Stuck where?" Jason asked.
"Earth," E.J. answered.
Jason was silent.
"I understand how awful it must be," E.J. began to pace around the room, rubbing dust off of one of the floating end tables with his index finger and grinding it with his thumb. "Being stuck on Earth is like the equivalent of getting swallowed by the cosmic equivalent of a backwoods small town. And I understand you're in a war! Even worse! Must be so hard not having the high ground in this fight. Every other boosh gets to come and go but you."
The furniture fell to the ground all at once.
"Get to what you're getting at, little boy," growled Jason.
"Wouldn't it be nice if you had a space ship?" E.J. smirked.
Jason cackled so hard phlegm ejected from his mouth, "You think we need a puny little temporal space ship? You think after thousands of years on this dung heap of a planet, out of all the humans and giants in history, we need you, Elijah James Hemmingway, an ugly, damaged little boy from a tiny nowhere town, with a lot to prove and even more to compensate for? Always jealously clutching at what you don't have? Never happy?"
E.J. felt himself begin to sweat as his equilibrium was thrown off balance; the floor beneath him still held his feet to it, but it no longer felt like a reliable center of gravity. Jason, instead seemed to become a black hole that might at any moment suck everything into his destructive force. E.J. swallowed, and tried to keep his cool.
"Let me break it down for you," E.J. stepped up in front of Jason. "A space alien from another planet landed here. A blue one. They came here looking for you. Apparently they found one of you on a human space ship. That means you and your kind can leave. My guess is you already know all about that. My guess is that particular boosh is famous to your kind. Furthermore, my guess is you know exactly what blue alien I'm talking about and where to find it. So here's my deal: help me find this blue alien, and I'll take you both to the ship, and you all can get off this planet, go fight your war somewhere else, and never return."
Jason sat silent for several minutes. E.J. waited patiently.
"We will need a garment of skin," said Jason.
"Excuse me?"
"A meat suit." Jason barked. "We are powers of the air, but we cannot go where the air ends. You can. That's how the Muse escaped before. He wore an astronaut as a garment of skin through the barrier."
"The Muse?" E.J. asked.
"Yes, the demon who escaped the planet in the human rocket was one of the Muses."
"Like from Greek mythology?"
"We've been around a little while."
"Can you use the blue alien as a meat suit?" Asked E.J.
Jason smiled unblinkingly, which sent shivers down E.J.'s spine.
"Yes I can," he said. "I accept your deal."
Jason's face suddenly stopped smiling, and his eyes went wide. He slowly lowered to his knees and began to violently weep. "It's... been... so.... long...."
E.J. felt cold.
Why cold?
"Hey, you're not trying to possess me, are you?" He asked.
A little voice, not even an audible one, rang in his head like a pervasive thought, 'go to the fair with your brother'.
"Take me to the blue alien," E.J. said. "That was the deal."
'You already know where the blue alien is hiding,' said the foreign thought in his brain.
"What are you talking about?" E.J. said. He suddenly remembered a number of events he hadn't previously considered important. Melvin asking about what he'd do with an alien at dinner with their parents, then suddenly making an excuse to leave. Posie kicking something under the bed at his apartment, while Stu hid suspiciously in the bathroom. Melvin leaving work to look for a lost pet, but not actually having one, or mentioning it ever again. Constantly - and not so subtly - asking what warehouse he was keeping the fish rocket in.
"Oh Melvin," whispered EJ. "You beautiful, traitorous idiot."
'Go to the fair with him,' said the foreign thought. 'Make him squirm.'
"You and I are not friends, demon," E.J. said as he left Jason weeping on the floor, and out the busted doorway.
---
"If we had sufficient distraction, we might be able to sneak someone in through the back, past the government agents."
"I'll go," said Melvin. "It's my brother, maybe I can use my gift of tongues to talk him out of it."
"That's not what the gift of tongues is," corrected Xabriel.
"Well then I'll just use my sword to be more persuasive OH WAIT I DON'T HAVE ONE," Melvin shot back.
Stu sat on the crowded metro, wedged into the window seat by a perfect stranger, listening to music in his earphones and examining the buildings out the window.
"What are you listening to?" He heard Scott say.
"Yeah, pull those chimney sweeps out of your ears and keep us company," said Butt-Julio from behind him.
Stu looked up to see the train had emptied enough for his new friends to sit closer. He stopped his music.
"I'm listening to Chicago by Sufjan Stevens!" Stu said, excitedly. "Have you heard of it? I love it! It's... fresh, as though the world was new."
Scott shot Butt-Julio a glare, "Dude, did you tell Stu about Chicago by Sufjan Stevens? You know how overplayed that song is."
"Of course I did," admitted Butt-Julio, proudly. "Every white guy that moves here from a small town discovers Chicago by Sufjan Stevens. It's a natural part of the adaptive process. I'm just trying to speed things along."
"You know that whole album is pretty good," Scott suggested. "And there's lots of other good music out there. I'll make you a playlist."
"Thanks!" Smiled Stu. "But I think I need to listen to this specific song over and over again for awhile. Like a crazy person."
"This is our stop!" Butt-Julio bounced in his seat.
They got off the train, and Stu surveyed a large open field with some large collegiate buildings behind it, with perfect rows of cherry trees lining sidewalk paths through the grass, and an abstract, angular statue in the middle.
"Did you take me to a college?" Asked Stu.
"Hey, laugh if you want, but the cafeteria here has the best cheap chicken fingers," Scott explained.
"Oh, so when you said you were giving me the Bellville grand tour, you meant-"
"The impoverished version, yeah."
The three crossed the field into the cafeteria building. It wasn't crowded by any means - Stu was assured they'd missed the lunch rush - but there were still more people there than Stu was used to being in the same room with at any given time. His eyes adjusted to the stimuli as they got in line and loaded up on chicken. As they left the cashier to find a seat in the hall, Stu spotted a familiar face.
"Oh!" Stu said out loud. "Hey guys, I see someone I know from Port Teague. I'll catch up with you."
"Sure thing!" Smiled Scott. "We'll just be over here."
Stu walked his tray away from the two and over to a table that was occupied by one single person, lost in a textbook. He sat down in front of him.
"Hello, Manic."
Manic looked up, surprised, "Stu?"
"In the flesh," Stu smiled.
"It's good to see you," said Manic.
"Is it?" Stu asked.
"Aren't I smiling?" Asked Manic.
Stu shook his head, "no you are not."
Manic felt his face with his hand, "oh, so I'm not. I really need to work on emoting."
"Do you go to this college?"
"No, I go to the fancy one up the road. But this one has better chicken fingers for cheaper."
"What a strange thing for a college to be famous for," mused Stu.
"How are you? How is everyone?" Asked Manic.
"Oh, do you care?" Asked Stu.
Manic closed his book, "I do care. I didn't think I would, but I miss you guys. You were my only friends."
"Really?" Stu was taken aback.
"I didn't think I needed friends. I'm still not sure I do. But I do miss you. Perhaps being aware that the communal attachment tendencies of our species evolved in our brain chemistry as an ideal condition for survival and replication is not enough to absolve me from being subjected to its effects."
"Manic, the last I heard about you," Stu said. "You dumped Posie and skipped town. I had to hear about it third-hand from Melvin."
"Should I have said goodbye?" Manic asked.
Stu thought about it, and finally said, "yes."
"I apologize," said Manic, sincerely. "How is Melvin?"
"He's dating Posie now," said Stu.
"I see."
"Are you okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You really need to work on emoting."
"Why are you here?" Asked Manic, changing the subject.
"Oh, I moved here," said Stu. "To Bellville, not to this college. Although maybe I should apply here. These chicken fingers are super delicious."
"They really are," Manic agreed. "So you moved here. Do you miss your friends as well?"
"I haven't been gone more than a couple weeks," Stu maintained his composure for a whole solid second, then lost it. "But yes! Yes, a thousand times! I miss them so much, and I text them every day. All I want to do is go home and cuddle up to Melvin and Posie, and make them soup and make sure they're okay, and make sure they're brushing their teeth every night, and tuck them in... goodness, listen to me. You must think I sound crazy."
"Always," said Manic.
"Thanks," said Stu sarcastically.
"You all sounded crazy to me usually," said Manic. "The three of you had such an unusual, clingy, symbiotic relationship. I was Posie's boyfriend, but I often felt like I was dating all three of you. Did you know that when I suggested dates and meetings for the two of us, I had to specifically mention I wanted it to be just the two of us? If I didn't, she would bring the two of you along, like there wasn't anything weird about that."
"No kidding?"
"I had to mark a specific day each week for us to meet at the docks after school."
"Did you make any new friends in college?"
"To be honest," Manic sighed. "I'm pretty disappointed in academia. I thought I'd fit like an old glove into a well oiled machine of brilliant people progressing our knowledge and understanding of the universe through science. Instead it's mostly turning out to be an institution of snobbery, ideological exclusivism, and conceit."
"Jeepers. What science are you majoring in?"
"Physics, both regular and particle, engineering, biology, genetics, neuroscience, programming, and chemistry."
"Yeah, but which one is your major?"
"They all are. I'm minoring in culinary arts. Have to keep the other side of my brain exercised at least a little, right?"
"That sounds like an insane workload!"
"Let me let you in on a little secret," Manic leaned in. "This college... they're too prestigious to fail their students. They snatch up all the smartest students, like me, with resources they can afford because all the rich parents force their kids to apply there. They take money from wealthy idiots, turn them into grants for poorer and middle class geniuses, and they don't fail anyone."
"Really?"
"In the end, they're all about looking good. If they look good, more people will sink money into them, and more of their students will have preferential job placement afterwards, which makes them look even better. And they only look good if their students look like the top students in the country. If a student does badly enough, they're offered all kinds of outs, and sometimes strongly encouraged to drop. But for someone like me, that means I can study pretty much unencumbered, without the stress of specific tests and homework assignments and whatnot."
"Interesting. So tell me, mister science pants," Stu leaned in. "What do you know about aliens?"
"Stu, nobody knows anything about aliens," said Manic.
"Yeah, but hypothetically?"
"Hypothetically nobody knows about aliens. There are unlimited infinite possibilities."
"What if you met one, and it was basically identical to a human?"
"That's bafflingly unlikely."
"Okay, so knowing it's bafflingly unlikely, how would you react if you met one and it was basically identical to a human?"
Manic thought carefully, "it would challenge quite a lot of assumptions about evolution. It would suggest that, for whatever reason, life manifesting in this specific form is a likelier path than a casual happenstance. I might even be tempted to reason that life manifesting in this form wasn't entirely random, were that to be the case."
"Woah, like creationism?" Stu asked.
"It's just a hypothetical Stu," said Manic.
"Okay, but would you think we should kill it? If it came to earth?"
Manic thought carefully again, "There is a strong argument made about aliens, that we shouldn't make contact or announce our presence in the universe. They say that when two civilizations meet, it goes very poorly for the one who is the least technologically advanced."
"Is that what you think?"
"I think the cat's out of the bag. We've been announcing ourselves since we started sending radio signals. I also think that assumption presupposes that alien life is fundamentally human enough in personality and temperament that they would think to use advanced technology in the same domineering manner that we would. Which again is bafflingly unlikely. They could communicate gaseously and we could each fail to recognize the other as intelligent beings and they could fly back off feeling like they wasted their time. They could experience time backwards. There's all kinds of things aliens could be. Frankly, not even humans communicate with each other the same way from human to human. How can we ever expect to understand anyone from a whole other planet enough to predict reliably how hostile they are? Or if they even understand what hostility means?"
"That's a good point," Stu said. "How could she possibly understand? I might have some apologizing to do."
"What?"
"Thank you so much for the advice, Manic," said Stu, rising out of his seat. "I'd better go."
"What advice?" Manic asked, confused. "You're being weird again."
"We should definitely hang out more, now that I live here," said Stu as he walked away with his tray.
"But what are you- you know what I don't care," Manic said to himself, as he opened his book back up and continued to read.
----
Melvin left Sasha and a new summer hire at the end of his shift at the Cone Zone, and walked across town to the fair grounds. Posie was waiting at the very edge of the field, beside one of the barns with a hot dog cart that said "WEINER" on it in big red and yellow bubble letters. She was wearing a matching striped jumpsuit and train conductor hat with a picture of a hot dog on it.
"What in the world?" He mumbled to himself as he approached her from a distance.
She spotted him and waved, just as a tall, grizzly man walked up to her with a handful of dollar bills.
"How much for a weiner?" he asked, revealing he had a woman's voice.
She looked at him with her mouth hanging open, not sure what to say. The box opened up by itself, and a blue, ungloved hand extended out the top holding a cold, wet hot dog.
"Ew, are you selling those cold with no buns?" The grizzly man asked with all the tone and tamber of a snotty valley girl.
"Yes," said Posie. "That'll be eight cowboy cash bills, sir."
"Gross, no way," he pocketed his wadded up cash and walked away. "And nobody calls them cowboy cash bills, freak!"
Posie turned red and called after him, "Did you just call me a freak!? YOU'RE a freak, Mrs. Mister! You're the king and queen of freaks!"
"On second thought," E.J. ripped his arm free. "Let's go in the opposite direction of the beer garden! And Also, completely away from the dart game! Let's go to the carousel! Last one to the carousel ride sucks a bag of farts!" He jogged off into the crowd. Melvin lingered for a second, then ran off behind him.
"What are you doing?" Melvin whisper yelled once he was finally up close. "Did you bring Sok here in a wiener cart? You shouldn't have brought her here at all! Where did you even get this cart?"
"I'm full of surprises and mystery!" She smiled. "And besides, we can't just leave her home. It's the fair! She's gonna love it so much!"
"What, are you gonna take her on rides in that thing?" He asked, sarcastically.
"Of course not," she said defensively. "We'll just show her around the animal barns, listen to the bluegrass bands a little, give her some cotton candy..."
"We're meeting E.J. here," Melvin reminded her.
"Maybe you can hang out without me," she suggested. "Do you want a wiener?"
On cue, Sok reached out of the box holding a cold, wet hot dog.
"Are those the cold hotdogs from my fridge? Cold dogs? Cold hotdogs?" Melvin asked. "...Cool dogs? Chilly dogs? No that's already a thing."
"Oh!" Posie yelped, and pushed Sok's hand back down into the box. Melvin looked behind him, and saw that a big, black rental hummer had parked, and E.J., Mallory and Joe were stepping out of it. Melvin noticed E.J. looked darker then usual, like he'd tanned recently. Mallory, on the other hand, had died her hair blonde, and immediately started frantically waving and smiling at them as soon as she'd exited the vehicle.
"Hey guys!" Said Joe as they walked up.
"Hey guys! How are you! Great to see you!" Mallory greeted them, too jovially. "Posie, looking gorgeous as always, rocking that ketchup and mustard look!"
"Are you selling wieners now, Posie?" Asked E.J. "I'd like one."
Posie leaned on the cart lid so Sok couldn't put her hand through, "I can't sell you any right now. They're... soaking."
"Soaking?" Asked E.J.
"In wiener water," nodded Posie. "They have to soak for a couple of hours. Like a broth. That's why the packages of hotdogs always come packaged with a bunch of water so you have to cut it open over the sink. Gives them that meat flavor. Don't you know anything about wieners?"
"I guess I don't," said E.J., suspiciously. "I thought the liquid in the hotdog packages was just a preservative."
"That's why you don't ask how the sausage is made, am I right?" Giggled Mallory, gleefully, putting her hand up. "High five! Anyone? High five? Melvin? High five? Nobody? High five me or I'll skin you."
Melvin reluctantly high fived Mallory, far too slowly to make the clapping noise.
"Fabulous!" She said, a little too cheerfully. "So good to see you both again. I think I see a dart game over there with my name on it. I'm going to go win my snookums here a giant teddy bear! Boop!" She booped E.J. on the nose with her pointer finger, and skipped gaily over to a line of booth games.
"Snookums?" Asked Melvin, raising his eyebrows.
"She's been acting like that lately," Said E.J. "All peppy and bubbly. She's somehow way scarier like this."
"She's been calling him her fiancé too," Joe said, playing with his yo-yo, but failing.
"She's been calling him her fiancé too," Joe said, playing with his yo-yo, but failing.
"You're engaged?" Posie asked, surprised.
"I didn't propose to her," E.J. put his hands up. "I actually thought she was done with me. Then suddenly she's acting like we've been planning a wedding for months. I can't tell if she's delusional or if she's just gas lighting me."
"You're not fighting it very hard," teased Joe, as he pulled his yo-yo back up by the string.
"I'm not giving this drama the satisfaction of a reaction either way," He rubbed his temples. "If I react at all, it'll only encourage her to keep behaving like the grand dutchess of psycholand."
"That's weird, my yo-yo isn't working," said Joe. "It doesn't seem broken. Maybe it's gravity that's broken?"
Melvin bit his lip. He did feel a slight sense of vertigo when E.J. walked up. He didn't mention it.
"Maybe the alien is close," smirked E.J., as he rested his hand on the hotdog cart. Posie tried not to react.
"Maybe," Joe said, innocently. "I'm gonna go grill some people in the roller coaster line. The people in front can't run from me without losing their turn." He kept trying to yo-yo as he walked off toward the rides. The yo-yo started working again about fifteen feet away. He looked back at his friends by the cart briefly, but then shrugged it off and kept going forward.
"So... you guys are still looking for that alien, huh?" Posie asked. She could feel herself start to sweat. 'This was a bad idea,' she thought. 'Melvin is right. You're so stupid for bringing her here. You're nothing but a stupid, impulsive little girl.'
'Not now, logismoi,' she thought back at her other thought voice. 'I'm busy, I've got things to do.'
"We're closing in on the alien's location," said E.J., darkly, tapping his fingers on the hot dog cart. "Shouldn't be too long now. You haven't happened to see or hear anything... alien related lately, have you?"
Posie gulped. Melvin said, "nope, not us."
"Really?" E.J. leaned in and gave them another chance. "Nothing whatsoever out of the ordinary lately?"
"We did go to Church this week," said Melvin, thoughtfully.
"Church?" E.J. sank back a little.
"It was my idea," nodded Posie. "Have you ever had these toxic, depreciative thoughts in your head that don't quite belong to you, but you can't seem to get rid of them?"
'Tell her no, you peasant!' said a toxic, depreciative thought in E.J.'s head that didn't quite belong to him, but he couldn't seem to get rid of.
"Will you excuse me for a second?" E.J. smiled. He ducked into the barn, and hopped over a small fence into a nest of baby goats.
"What are you do-o-o-o-ing?" bleeted the demon, through the mouth of one of the goats.
"Oh, you're in a goat now?" E.J. mocked him. "A little on the nose, isn't it?"
"Your Alien is in the ho-o-o-o-o-t dog cart! Even yo-o-o-o-o-ou know that, and you cannot see--e-e-e-e-ee between three-e-e-ee dimensional corners!"
"You can see between three dimensional corners?" E.J. asked.
"Ye-e-e-e-e-e-es! I'm a de-e-e-e-e-e-mon!"
"Okay, please get out of that goat, your voice is getting annoying."
"Go get the alien, you foo-o-o-o-o-ol! Why are you playing games?"
"He's my brother," E.J. answered. "I don't expect you to understand, but I'd like to give him a chance to talk to me honestly before I go raiding his girlfriend's wiener box."
"Everyone's a liar," said the goat. "Even the best ones. The Serpent in the Garden told Adam and Eve to eat the forbidden fruit. He didn't tell them to lie to God about it. They came up with that little plan all on their own. Goat voices aren't too bad, once you've got the hang of them."
"I'm sorry, are you in a hurry?" E.J. mocked the goat. "Is my human family shtick slowing you down too much? Do you have somewhere better to be? Because last I checked, you spent the last fifty years making some poor old guy eat his snail mail."
He jumped back over the gate and left the barn, only to see Melvin was waiting for him all by himself.
"Where's Posie!?" He growled. "I'm sorry," he shook his head, relaxed his shoulders, folded his hands, and smiled. "Where did Posie run off to?" He asked again, more politely.
Melvin shrugged, "she went off on her own. I'm sure we'll catch up with her at some point. Wanna go see how Mallory's doing with that dart game?"
"No," E.J. snapped. Then more politely, "I'll just go look for her. I'm... I'm really feeling a hotdog right now."
"Okay," Melvin grabbed him by the arm. "Let's go look for her then. I think I saw her go over by the beer garden, to try and sell to the day drunks."
'He's lying,' said E.J.'s brain. 'She didn't go to the beer garden. She's not selling hotdogs. He's trying to distract you.'
"On second thought," E.J. pulled his arm free and started jogging backwards. "Let's go in the exact opposite direction! Last one to the carousel is a bag of farts!" He turned around and raced into the crowd. Melvin gasped like a girl and ran after him.
----
Posie pushed the wiener cart in front of her as she powerwalked down a row of street merchant stands.
'Come on, think!' Posie thought. 'There's gotta be something around here to help me smuggle an alien."
The lid lifted slightly, and Sok peeked out at her, "Posie? Everything good?"
"It's okay, Sok," she reassured her, panting and sweating. "I'm gonna keep you safe. Just relax and close the lid."
"Do you want a hotdog?" Sok asked.
"Yes please," Posie grabbed a cold hotdog and crammed it down her throat as she continued powerwalking, and frantically looking around at the stands.
"Hey how much for a hotdog?" Asked an old lady as she passed.
"WIENER WATER! WIENER WATER!" She yelled at her, and kept storming forward.
'Can I cover her in jackets? No, that's stupid. Maybe a hoodie, if I pull the drawstring closed over her face. No, come on, you can do better than that. There's a face painting stand, maybe they have flesh tones? No, then you have to reveal the alien to the face painting lady. Come on, Posie! It's your fault she's in danger, and it's your responsibility to fix it! For once, don't mess everything up! COME ON, POSIE THINK!'
She started smacking her head with her fists to try and knock the gears back into motion, but then her body started tensing up, she got dizzy, started hyperventilating, and had to stop and crouch.
'Is this a panic attack?'
"Are you okay?"
"WOAH!" She jerked herself back to her feet and whipped around to see someone in a big cylindrical cigarette costume, with a goofy face painted on, and mesh eye holes. Human arms and legs were sticking out of it.
"Hey, take it easy! I'm not gonna hurt you!" Said the cigarette.
"Why-?" She was hyperventilating too much to ask the cigarette if she was hallucinating him. She looked around and saw there was an anti-smoking booth nearby with paraphernalia for the kids, like buttons and bumper stickers and little pencils that said "Don't smoke: stuff's murder".
"I know your voice," She caught her breath a little. "Who are you? An angel?"
"I'm Matt. Matt Martinez. We went to school together," said the cigarette.
"Oh Matt!" She put her hands up to her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry I stepped on your foot!"
"What?" Asked Matt.
"In fifth grade," She continued apologizing frantically. "I accidentally stepped on your foot, and then I just kept on walking, and then I thought maybe you thought I did it on purpose, and I wanted to turn around and apologize, but then I thought it'd be weird cause I waited too long, and then the longer I waited the weirder it seemed, but then we never talked again after that, and I know it's several years too late and we're graduates, but I'm so so sorry! Please don't be mad at me anymore!"
"Wow," Matt gestured reassuringly. "It's okay, I don't even remember that. We never talked cause I thought you hated me."
"Oh no! I never talked to you cause I thought you were mad at me!"
"Alright, well we got that cleared up. Are you okay?" He asked again. "You've kinda got the crazy eyes right now."
"No, I'm a little..." She looked him up and down. "Hey, can I bum a cigarette suit off you?"
"What? You want my mascot costume?"
"Yes," Posie nodded, and sniffled a little. "You don't know me that well yet, but I like to solve all my life problems by playing dress up."
"I can't just give you my costume," Matt said.
Posie grabbed him by what she assumed was about where his shoulders were, "Matt, look me in the crazy eyes and tell me you don't think a giant cartoon cigarette with a goofy friendly face is a terrible idea for a mascot for an anti-smoking campaign."
"Good point," agreed Matt.
"I will trade you," she gestured behind her. "My hotdog cart, and all the hotdogs inside. Full disclosure, there are about seven hotdogs inside. They are raw and cold, because they are from my boyfriend's fridge. It was a package of eight and I ate one."
"Six!" Shouted Sok from inside the cart.
"What was that?" Asked Matt.
"The cart has just informed me that there are six hotdogs left," said Posie, extending her hand. "Do we have a deal?"
"We have a deal!" Said Matt, shaking it.
----
Joe Michaels was casting his yo-yo down and back up in front of every individual person in line for a ride ironically called "the Yo-Yo", when he spotted Stu and two other people approaching his direction.
"Yo yo!" He yelled as he waved Stu over.
"Joe!?" Stu squinted at him, as he altered course toward him. "It is Joe, right?"
"That's right!" He said happily. "And this lizard on my head is Fej! You're back so soon?"
"How could I miss the fair?" Stu smiled. "These are my new friends from the city, by the way. This is Scott and Ugg Boots. Guys, this is Joe."
They greeted each other; Scott shook hands with Joe, and Ugg Boots shook hands with Fej.
"I brought the whole gang here from the city," said Stu. "But they ditched us to go get high in the funhouse."
"I bet your hometown friends were happy to see you," said Joe.
"Actually," Stu laughed nervously. "I haven't told them I'm here yet. We left things kinda weird, and now I feel a bit like an outsider. How about you? Did you find your outsider?"
"The alien? Nah," Joe answered. "E.J. says we're closing in on it, but I think he must know something I don't. Or he's desperate and overconfident."
"Desperate?"
"Yeah, um..." Joe looked around. "Can I talk to you in private on the ferris wheel?"
"Oh, sure," answered Stu, eyeballing Scott and Ugg Boots to wordlessly make sure they were okay on their own.
"I wanna see the pigs," Ugg Boots said to Scott. "Small towns are so gross and interesting. Come with me?"
"I guess we'll be with the pigs," said Scott.
----
On the Ferris wheel, Joe pulled a flask out of his cargos, took a swig, and offered some to Stu, "Do you want some? Wait, how old are you?"
"Oh," Stu looked at the flask briefly taken aback. "I'm no square."
Joe chuckled, "If I didn't know you were friends with Miss Pillow before, I'd know now."
Stu took a swig without asking what it was, and having tasted it, he still couldn't tell what it was.
"I'm not going to lie," he said. "This tastes like bees made out of black licorice are stinging my tongue."
Joe chuckled again.
"So what did you want to talk with me about?" Asked Stu, as their seat reached the top of the circle and stopped.
"You see all that, out there?" Joe pointed out into the distance.
They could see the bulk of the fairgrounds, the port, the main strip of town, and quite a lot of roofs slowly becoming trees the higher up the mountain they looked. They could see the river, and a long stretch of road that vanished behind a hill that would eventually lead to Bellville.
Joe continued, "There's monsters out there, you know?"
"You think the alien is a monster?" Asked Stu. "Is that why you want to kill it?"
"Kill it?" Asked Joe. "I don't WANT to kill it."
"You don't?"
"It depends, I suppose, on whether it's a dragon, or merely a foreigner," Joe took another swig of his black licorice bees flask. "Of course, E.J. will treat it like a dragon no matter what, and slay the thing. And I'm sure our superiors are going to have some protocol or another when they get here. It's out of my hands either way."
"But if it's just a normal foreigner alien, and you helped catch it, won't that make you implicit in their murder?" Asked Stu.
Joe didn't look at him; he continued to stare off into the distance. He finally said, "Have you ever seen those old maps? The really old ones that depicted the whole world as one flat continent surrounded by water?"
"Can't say that I have."
"Can't say that I have."
"They always show their own cities at the center, as these shining cities on the hill, the pinnacle of order and culture and civilization. And then just outside the boarder walls are normal natural stuff, but lower. Like animals and birds and hills and trees... but then the farther out to the fringes you go, you start seeing more chaotic things like giants and ogres and deformed people with faces on their stomachs, or misshapen limbs. And then at the far boarders is just the chaotic sea, with dragons and monsters and utter chaos. All monsters come from the chaos of the sea, you know?"
"I'm having trouble following you," said Stu.
Joe continued, "It usually echoes the old creation myths. There's something really primordial about the order. You start with a formless sea, then you get time, day and night, then land and sky, then plants, animals birds and finally people. Sometimes you have a Zeus-like character defeating the chaotic Chronos and the Titans to establish the age of order. Even in the modern secular mythos, life starts chaotically in the ocean, crawls up on land, and keeps experimenting with weird shapes until it gets to civilized man. But in every case, it's all just symbolic of the way we perceive our place in the cosmos. On the old maps, it was as simple as the tribalistic tendency to see your own city as the most civilized and ordered, and to dehumanize everything to greater degrees the farther out to the fringes you go. All the way out to the chaotic ocean, formless and without shape, representing what the planet used to be before Zeus came along."
The wheel began to move again, lowering them back down toward the surface of the planet.
Joe continued, "E.J. wants to fortify the city walls, and go slay the dragon. Don't you think that's noble?"
"Not really," said Stu. "What if the dragon is friendly? Like in Dragon heart? Or Eragon? Or the Never Ending Story?"
"Ah, of course you wouldn't think it's noble," smiled Joe, as he took his Professor Whom voice recorder out of his cargo pocket and pointed it at him, making the lights flash. "You're the adventurer. You're the one who travels out to the fringes to greet the foreigners with hospitality and compassion. That's what I've always loved about Professor Whom; he solved space crimes, and caught the bad guys, but no matter what the aliens looked like, he always treated them with dignity. But we still tribalize here on Earth, and war with the dehumanized fringes on the edges of the map, and the monsters coming out of the seas. Even though we've adjusted our maps to a heliocentric model, and turned outer space into the new chaotic sea where the monsters come from, we still haven't quite turned the whole Earth into the shining center city on the hill."
"So, what, are you not gonna be an adventurer too?" Stu asked. "Are you just gonna side with the noble night that wants to slay your dragon friends? Or are you going to defect, and take the dragon's side?"
"I'm not a dragon," said Joe. "I... I never really thought about it that way, but I'm not a dragon, am I? I'm not a foreigner. I'm a person, like you and like E.J. and I live on this planet. Maybe I don't think the dragons should be slain, but I definitely don't think the center city should be burned down. I'm also not the guy that decides what happens to foreigners. And I can't defect, because I can't live in the sea. You're right, I do wish that it didn't have to be such an all or nothing choice, but I'm... I'm an Earthling, Stu. Not even a high ranking one. I'm a fringe detective. My job is a joke to most people. My mom wanted me to be an accountant. She'll barely talk to me anymore. But at least it's a fun job, that I love."
"Joe," Stu pleaded. "Don't kill the alien. If you find it, don't kill it."
Joe shook his head, "I'm sorry, man. I don't know why you're so invested in this, but it's out of my hands. Our superiors have probably already seized the warehouse with the space ship in it. The only reason we're still looking is as a last ditch effort to find leverage to stay on the project."
Stu's heart dropped into his stomach.
The ride came to a halt, and let the two of them off.
"I'd better go to the pigs," said Stu.
"You should go find your other hometown friends too," said Joe. "They're here, I saw them. You can go adventuring without defecting, you know."
"Yeah, well," Stu looked back at Joe. "You need to defect. Please. If you find that alien before the authorities, or before E.J., I'm begging of you. Do the right thing."
Stu separated from him, and made his way toward the barns.
Joe waited for a minute, then followed after him at a distance.
On his way, he passed Mallory.
Without breaking stride, he told her, "quick, follow me."
"Excuse you?" She asked.
"I think that guy knows where the alien is," explained Joe, still walking forward.
"Oh," Mallory followed him. "What guy?"
"Stu," Joe answered. "The scrawny guy we hung out with at the ice cream shop. I think his project is hiding the alien."
"You're kidding!" She gasped. "I'm glad for something to do. I was getting nowhere with that darts game. They made me stop because I kept hitting the guy running the booth. But if you ask me, he should've been paying me for all that free acupuncture."
"I can't believe they've been flying right under our noses this whole time," Joe said, almost to himself.
"This whole job has been kind of boring for me anyways," Mallory noted, also mostly to herself. "I mean, pretty light on the chemistry work so far. Just a little materials identification from the fish rocket, and then yawn city for weeks!"
"I suppose it only makes sense, they must have made friends with the alien right away, and knew E.J. had ill intentions with it. I would've done the same thing."
"I went blonde! Look at me! I've spent so long bored in this small town, I've actually been BAKING."
"I'm glad we're on the same page about this," said Joe.
"Yeah, you're a really good listener," said Mallory.
----
Melvin was running out of breath as he tried to keep pace with E.J., who kept rushing from place to place. First he wanted to ride the carousel, but when he got there, he changed his mind and wanted to go listen to the bluegrass band, then two seconds later, he decided to go ride the bumper cars, then changed his mind and wanted to browse the merchant tents.
He finally stopped as he passed a tent for anti-smoking propaganda for children. Melvin caught his breath, and looked up to see one of his old classmates, Matt, was pulling Posie's wiener cart behind him. Melvin gasped, and tried to stop E.J. from marching up to it.
"Where did you get this?" E.J. barked at Matt.
"Woah, man, say it don't spray it," said Matt.
E.J. lifted the lid to the cart and Melvin nearly peed himself.
All he saw was four wet hotdogs on the bare floor of the empty wooden box.
"Where did Posie go?" E.J. questioned Matt.
Matt and Melvin both felt a sudden, inexplicable vertigo looking at E.J..
"Um, I think she went that way," said Matt.
"Which way?" E.J. asked.
"Am I not pointing?" Matt asked.
"No you're not," E.J. grew frustrated.
"What's going on, man?" Asked Melvin. "You're really on edge right now. Do we need to take a break from the fair and go grab some weed from dad?"
E.J. took a deep breath, "you know what? You're right. You stay here and enjoy the fair. I'm going to go back to dad's and take a nap on their couch. I'll meet you back here for the fireworks to-night?"
He didn't wait for a response before storming off toward the fair grounds exit.
Melvin turned to Matt, "Posie's my girlfriend now."
"Are you bragging about that?" Asked Matt.
"Yeah I guess," shrugged Melvin. "I haven't really gotten the chance to brag yet, and I'm really excited about it."
"Oh, okay," said Matt. "Hey I thought you were already dating her since like middle school though?"
"Oh, no we weren't," said Melvin. "She was with our other friend."
"The little gay dude?"
"No," Melvin said. "What? No, man, listen to yourself. Not the gay dude. He's a gay dude."
"Right."
"Seriously though, did you see where she went?"
"To the barns, I think. She was with somebody who was wearing my cigarette costume, but I didn't see who."
"How much for a hotdog?" Asked a man, passing by.
"WEINER WATER!" Matt and Melvin both shouted at him. He shirked back and kept walking.
----
"So this is a pig," said Ugg Boots, in the pig barn as she and Scott leaned against the rope watching one lay motionless in a nest of hay.
"How can something this big and ugly be so cute?" Said Scott.
"I don't think I'm ever going to eat bacon again," said Ugg Boots. "Squatt, do you want to be a vegan with me?"
"Sure!" Said Scott. "Wait, Stu grew up here. He probably got to look at pigs all day back then. Why isn't he a vegan?"
"I dunno," said Ugg Boots. "Maybe we should ask him. Come on, let's go to the produce barn and see if we can eliminate anything else from our diets."
As they left the pig barn, Posie entered through the other door, hyperventilating and dragging Sok behind her still wearing the cigarette costume. They rounded the pig nest and found a bail of hay in a dark corner to sit on.
"I'm so sorry, Sok," she said, wiping the nervous sweat from her forehead.
"Posie, what is wrong?" Asked Sok.
"I brought you here," Posie curled her legs up onto the hay and wrapped her arms around them. "I put you in danger. I can't believe I did that. I'm so stupid. You could've been captured and tortured and hurt and killed. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry, Sok."
"Posie," Sok lifted the top half of the cigarette off of the bottom half so she could look Posie in the face, and also so she could breathe. "Posie no get Sok killed. Sok still right here. I am alive."
"But-"
"Enough," Sok said, firmly. "You are good host. I am good guest. But Posie is not my guardian. I choose to come. I know the danger. But we will be fine, because the king is with us."
"The... the king? What?" Posie looked up at her.
"The king," she repeated. "The... Your Lord have mercy." She licked her thumb and crossed herself like she saw Posie do.
"Are you trying to tell me God is on our side?" Posie asked.
"Yes," said Sok. "You put yourself in charge of that which you are not. You will cause further damage to your brain and body. You are right now bent too far."
Posie made to answer, but bit her tongue as she saw Stu enter the barn.
"Posie! Sok!" Stu gasped when he saw them, and ran toward them.
"Shtu!" Shouted Sok.
Posie rose to her feet and the three of them embraced in a big hug.
"I missed you so much!" Posie said. "I'm so sorry I haven't texted you back! I was so mad!"
"It's fine, I understand completely, and it's water under the bridge!" Stu said. Then he turned to Sok, "Sok, I'm so sorry I freaked out on you."
Sok nodded, "I am sorry for wrong words hurting your feelings."
"Sok, you know, honestly, when you put your apology like that, it sounds like you're patronizing me," Stu said.
Sok nodded, but she did not understand.
Joe and Mallory walked through the barn door and stopped. There in the corner, with half a cigarette suit was the alien. Joe and Sok looked at each other in the eyes with the same dumbfounded expression. There she was. Blue skin like the sky, white hair like the clouds, swirly golden eyes like the sun. Fitting that someone who comes from the sky should look like the sky personified.
Posie said quietly, "run."
Sok continued to stare like a deer in the headlights.
"Run, Sok, now!" Posie said louder. "You have to go, we'll hold them off!"
Sok inhaled sharply, and started to bolt toward the barn door opposite Joe and Mallory. She stumbled on her mascot costume and fell to the floor. She crawled out of the bottom half of the cigarette and ran out the door. Posie intended to leap out at Joe and Mallory and be as formidable a distraction as she possibly could, outnumbered and outgunned as she was. However, as she stood to her feet, she found her legs would not carry her forward.
'What's this? Why can't I move? Is this a thing panic attacks can do? How fantastic is this! Stupid, incompetent Posie! Right when everyone needs you, and you freeze up like a frightened statue! Letting everyone down! You might as well go jump off-'
"Hey, can you move your legs?" Asked Joe.
'What? How did he know I-'
"I could if I wanted to," Mallory answered, visibly struggling to move her legs and failing. "I just don't want to right now."
Posie stopped trying to rip her legs free and realized Joe and Mallory had not run after Sok. They were, in fact, still standing right where they were. She looked over and saw Stu was struggling to move as well.
Joe reached down and tried to tug at his leg with his hand, to no avail.
"I think maybe the alien froze us," he said.
"NO IT WAS ME!" Boomed an ominous, echoey voice, seemingly from nowhere.
"Who's there?" Asked Joe.
"Wait, not everyone is here yet!" Boomed the voice.
Right on cue, Melvin ran into the room and stopped.
"Hey, my legs are stuck," he said. "What's-"
"NO IT WAS ME!" Boomed the voice. In a sudden flash, there above the pigs materialized a figure that was complex and beautiful. He had light emanating from him that he kept concealed by several wings, every feather of which had a functioning eyeball on it. The wings were constantly rotating in impossible formations, in and through each other, in fractal patterns. His feathers were blowing in the wind, even though there was no wind in the barn. He seemed to simultaneously be flying really fast through the air, yet he was just hovering in place above the pigs, cocked at an angle. In fact, though he was at an angle relative to the barn, everyone felt their sense of equilibrium react as though this strange being was actually right side up, and the rest of the planet was at the angle. In the center of the being, poking out of rotating feathers, was a baby face wearing a beanie hat with a little propeller on it.
Melvin tried to fall to his knees, but the bottoms of his feet would not let him do more than squat.
"Please don't kneel," said the being, through the mouth of the little baby face. "I realize that I am heavenly, but I am actually here in your service. Not the other way around."
"Who are you?" Asked Stu. "Are you Satan? And for that matter, who are we? Are we worms?"
"Yeah yeah, that's just the existential nihilism talking," said the being. "It happens to those who don't already believe in angels."
"You're right," said Stu. "I don't believe in angels. I'm an atheist."
"And yet you just asked if I was Satan. Please, call me Xabriel."
"Like Gabriel?" Asked Posie.
"No, totally different," said Xabriel. "His name has a hard G sound. Mine has a X, but it makes a Z sound. It's cooler."
"Why does it look like you're flying?" Asked Melvin.
"Because I am," said Xabriel. "I'm not actually effected by Earth's gravity, so I'm flying really fast through space keeping up with its orbit."
"Well, you exist," said Stu. "I don't have to accept what you're saying you are, or anything that means, but you exist, I'll give you that."
"That's a lot," responded Xabriel. "I'm proud of you."
"Yeah, you don't have to be condescending about it," muttered Stu.
"Stu Silver, you have grown up a lot. Your struggles have made you more Holy. You have overcome the comfort of the familiar in order to pursue a life of compassion. You had to leave your friends to do it, and that must have been very hard for you. But behold! You have returned with an army of friends! I rejoice in your successes!"
"Melvin," called Stu. "Can you tell this principality to stop talking to me like he's my mom? It's making me uncomfortable."
"I think he can hear you," Melvin answered. "And I would appreciate you not throwing me under the bus please, I am very terrified."
"That's a lot," responded Xabriel. "I'm proud of you."
"Yeah, you don't have to be condescending about it," muttered Stu.
"Stu Silver, you have grown up a lot. Your struggles have made you more Holy. You have overcome the comfort of the familiar in order to pursue a life of compassion. You had to leave your friends to do it, and that must have been very hard for you. But behold! You have returned with an army of friends! I rejoice in your successes!"
"Melvin," called Stu. "Can you tell this principality to stop talking to me like he's my mom? It's making me uncomfortable."
"I think he can hear you," Melvin answered. "And I would appreciate you not throwing me under the bus please, I am very terrified."
"Why did you freeze our legs?" Asked Joe.
"Because right now you're enemies, and I need you to be friends," answered Xabriel. He turned toward Melvin, "I'm so sorry, Melvin. We lost your brother."
"What do you mean you lost my brother?" Melvin asked. "I know where he went. And I'd tell you if I trusted you."
"We know where he is," said Xabriel, compassionately. "Nevertheless, he is possessed."
"Possessed?" Melvin asked. "Are you kidding me?? You let my brother get possessed by a demon?!"
"Let me back up," Xabriel said. "I am an angel. A messenger. An intelligence agent, if you will. We've been helping you keep Sok a secret. We have done our best to blind the enemy boosh to her whereabouts. But we could not stop E.J. from seeking the demon out. And once he was crawling around in his head, they sorted out the details."
"Wait, are you telling me E.J. came to the fair to-day already knowing we had Sok?" Melvin asked.
"Yes," said Xabriel. "Now listen to me very carefully. Your brother's superiors have already usurped the warehouse where he keeps Sok's ship. E.J. will capture Sok soon, and he will take her to the warehouse. This is a very powerful demon. Your best chance to rescue Sok alive is if you meet him inside the warehouse."
"And what if we refuse?" Asked Joe.
Xabriel glowed brighter as he turned to face Joe, "Joe Michaels. You are a gifted and intelligent detective. Tell me: what would Professor Whom do? Would he not try to find a way save everyone?"
"Joe," pleaded Stu. "Please, you need to defect. We're talking about rescuing an innocent alien from a demon. We're all the good guys here."
"Some of us are more good guys than others," said Posie. "I'm really pretty mediocre. This whole situation is kind of out of my league."
Mallory raised her hand, "also, my alignment is chaotic evil."
"Hang on, one at a time," said Xabriel. He rotated toward Posie, "Posie Pillow. You have a demon in your ear."
"What?" Posie grasped at her ears, but they both felt normal.
Xabriel continued, "we've done our best, but we need your permission to eradicate it."
"Yes please," Posie said without hesitation. A wing shot out from the angel and into Posie's face, and permeated her with light. Her head felt like it was on fire, and screaming. It gave her a headache. She screamed, but couldn't hear herself. Then, all at once, it was over. The angel was hovering over the pigs, and she was standing there, clear headed as though a fog had lifted.
"You may still suffer from some trauma over this," said Xabriel. "Not every thought in your head was the demon's fault, however it has been abusing you for a long time. It has been telling you that you are worthless. You've been believing it. I tell you that you are an image bearer of God, created uniquely, and of utmost value to Him. Take up your suffering prayerfully and with humility, and it will take you closer to God than pride and pleasures ever could. Aspire to this, and be not anxious over the expectations of the kingdom of Mammon."
Posie's feet felt like jelly, but she could not fall to the floor, because her feet were still frozen. Her jaw trembled as she was humbled out of her despondency.
Xabriel turned to Mallory, "and now you, Mallory Gates. Granddaughter of Hannah Teague."
Melvin and Posie gasped audibly.
"What? What does that mean?" Mallory asked. "Why are you guys acting like that's a big plot reveal?"
"Hannah Teague was one of the Teague sisters," said Melvin. "Port Teague was named after their dad. She was the witch that put the curse on Jason Thane!"
Posie told Joe, "That's the old dude who was eating his mail!"
"Oh dang!" Said Joe. "Mallory, your family is from this town?"
"Oh get real," scoffed Mallory. "That doesn't change anything. I didn't even know my grandma. I heard she was nutter. What, do I have a demon too?"
"Mallory," continued Xabriel. "It is no coincidence that the granddaughter of Hannah Teague is now charged with helping to eliminate the demon she summoned."
"I didn't do that!" Mallory protested. "I wasn't even born yet! You can't seriously be holding me responsible for what my grandma did!"
"You are not guilty," said Xabriel. "Nevertheless, here you are, facing the consequences of your grandmother's actions. Will you not act?"
"What's in it for me?" She asked.
"Besides rescuing the innocent Sok?" Xabriel asked. "What would you like?"
"Fifty bucks," she bargained.
"Wait, seriously?" Asked Joe. "You're shaking an angel down for cash?"
"That's what my time is worth," Mallory said. "Fifty bucks a minute. And it'll only take me a minute."
Xabriel laughed, "deal!"
"Am I next?" Melvin asked.
"What do you mean next?" Xabriel asked.
"I thought you were gonna hit each of us," said Melvin. "Like the Wizard of Oz or something. I thought maybe you'd get done with Mallory's thing and then tell me I had brains all along, but what I really needed was a diploma."
"I wasn't really planning on it," said Xabriel. "I can see where you got that impression. But you're already willing to go save Sok, aren't you?"
"Can I have a sword?" Asked Melvin.
"What? Why?"
"Like in Narnia," Melvin explained. "When Santa Clause came out and gave that blonde guy a sword. Can I have one of those? Or like a horn that calls for help from Aslan?"
"So many pop culture references," sighed Xabriel. "I'll tell you what. I can give you all the gift of tongues. There. Blamo. Everyone in this room can now speak every language. including Sok's."
"Oh, that might come in handy," said Posie.
"It probably won't help you save Sok," said Xabriel.
"Oh," said Posie.
"It probably won't help you save Sok," said Xabriel.
"Oh," said Posie.
Xabriel turned to Joe, "This is it, Joe Michaels. The time to act is now. Are you with us?"
Joe thought very carefully, "Our only chance to save the alien is in the warehouse?"
"That is your best chance," replied Xabriel. "That is not your only chance. I am simply filling you in on spiritual information you might need. I am but an intelligence agent."
"If we had sufficient distraction, we might be able to sneak someone in through the back, past the government agents."
"I'll go," said Melvin. "It's my brother, maybe I can use my gift of tongues to talk him out of it."
"That's not what the gift of tongues is," corrected Xabriel.
"Well then I'll just use my sword to be more persuasive OH WAIT I DON'T HAVE ONE," Melvin shot back.
"He's not going alone," said Posie. "I'm going with you for backup. Is that alright, Mr. Xabriel?"
"I am not the leader," replied Xabriel. "I am but an intelligence agent."
"Fine by me," said Joe, also not the leader. "Maybe you can talk your brother out of his deal with the devil, while Posie nabs Sok?"
"I can distract the coppers," said Mallory. "I'll need Stu's help."
"It goes against my better judgment to trust a being of light whose wings are actively breaking the laws of physics," said Stu. "But I'm happy to help if you split that fifty dollars with me."
"Augh! Fine!" Mallory growled.
---
Sok tried to avoid running along the sidewalks as best as she could, as she attempted to make her way back to Melvin's. It was more difficult than she thought; paved roads and sidewalks were practically everywhere, and they were almost all lined with houses and yards. A few cars passed her, which is what she was trying to avoid, but none of them stopped or slowed, or paid her any notice whatsoever, so eventually she just gave up and followed the sidewalks as fast as she could. However, she was not only unfamiliar with the lay of the town, but it's only been a couple of weeks since she first saw streets and houses and yards to begin with. Everything looked very similar to her, and she couldn't tell if she was going in circles or not.
Eventually, she stumbled across the abandoned church in the middle of town. She remembered coming here before when she first went hunting for broken boosh. She found them here. In spades. She remembered her heartbreak at the discovery. She took a deep breath, looked around, and reasoned that she could probably find her way back to Melvin's from here, if she can recognize enough landmarks.
She followed her memories back to Melvin's, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Once she was in the front door she felt safe enough to slow her pace down climbing the stares. When she got to the door, she hesitated. Something about the air was off. She went inside anyways. A few paces into Melvin's living room, she heard the door shut behind her. She whipped around, and saw E.J. Hemmingway, darker than ever, as though enveloped in shadow. He loomed tall between Sok and the only reasonable exit. She felt a strange sense of vertigo, as though he was somehow a more stable core than the planet itself. His goggles reflected fire, but there was no fire in the room.
"Well well well," he said. "You must be the alien my brother has been hiding from me."
"You are Melvin's brother," said Sok. "I am Sok."
"You speak English," applauded E.J. "That's impressive. Perhaps, then, you can tell me where Nichole Thom is?"
"Who is that?" Sok asked.
"One of your people took her from me," he growled. "A black one. You people dye your skin, right? That's why you're blue?"
"Yes, but not-"
"There can't have been that many of you alien scum to have visited this planet that you're not aware of the black one that kidnapped my girlfriend. Where is she?"
Sok shook her head, "Sok is the first one here. None could have come here before now. This is a secret planet, concealed from the universe."
"Yeah yeah, I know all about the boosh," E.J. paced toward her. She backed away from him until she hit the bed. "I know all about the invisible alien war, yadda yadda. And it's fine. If you won't tell me where Nick is, I'll just have to go interrogate your planet. I was planning on making the trip anyways, just to give the boosh a way off this planet and away from us. At least now I'll have something to do. Come with me." He grabbed her arm and yanked it toward the door with unbelievable strength.
"Ouch! Why do you need me?" Sok asked, struggling against him to no avail.
"I don't," E.J. answered. "You're more of a loose end. This planet has a no aliens allowed policy, and if I don't deport you now, I won't be around to do it later."
Sok's heels dragged against the carpet; she reached out and grabbed the center wall, and yelped as he continued to pull on her other arm by the wrist. She felt her shoulder go out of socket. E.J. felt it too. He stopped pulling, sighed, and clubbed her over the head. Once her body was limp on the floor, he picked her up over his shoulder and carried her away.
----
"What do you make of this place, Agent Chamberlain?" Said Agent Veltkamp, strolling through the warehouse door, dramatically taking off his sunglasses.
"Frankly, it's a mess in here, Agent Veltkamp," Agent Chamberlain dramatically whipped around in her stilettoes, letting her trench coat flair out like a ballerina dress, ripping off her sunglasses. "There's a beautiful alien spacecraft in here, that much is clear. But these kids working the fringe department spilled what appears to be... a gas station slushy inside." She put her sunglasses on, so that she could rip them off again dramatically. She continued, "It looks as though they brought a whole bakery in here to have a food fight, or else they got into an altercation with the Muffin Man. And did you see that crazy board?"
"The cork board with all the yarn?" Agent Veltkamp replied, ripping his sunglasses off. "I did. It's like the kind that psycho stalkers use in movies. Those kids must've hauled the ship here and partied for the last few weeks."
"I don't think so," Agent Chamberlain said, dramatically ripping her sunglasses off. "Look at these notebooks I found. Chalk full of translated alien text."
"Those resourceful shmucks," Agent Veltkamp said, he reached up to rip his sunglasses off, but he accidentally lost his grip, and they stayed dangling from one of his ears, so he reached up and dramatically pulled them off his ear. "They had the nerve to call me asking for a linguist expert weeks ago. This must've been all they did the whole time."
"Do you have an ETA on... the transport vehicle?" Agent Chamberlain dramatically ripped her sunglasses off.
"It's running late, it should be here in... an hour," Agent Veltkamp dramatically ripped his sunglasses off.
Both agents mimed an air guitar solo.
"We should go outside and wait with the guards," Said Agent Veltkamp.
"Quite," affirmed Agent Chamberlain.
They stepped outside the warehouse, shutting the door behind them. E.J. Hemmingway, still carrying Sok, stepped out from behind the door, and looked at the ship.
"I'm never coming back, am I?" E.J. asked to the empty room. "I'm never going to see my family again?"
The voice inside his brain responded, 'you know the deal. You're doing the right thing by both of us, it's a win-win.'
"How are you going to get the rest of the boosh off of the planet?" E.J. asked.
'May I load more boosh into your body?' Asked the voice.
"Can you fit the whole planet into my body?" Asked E.J.
'No,' said the voice. 'I can usually fit about a legion in one body, though, and that's a lot. When we get to the alien planet, We will help you find out about Nichole. Then we will leave you, and we will each possess another alien. Then we will bring more space ships back to Earth, and use their garments of flesh to leave the atmosphere. You'll be done with us once and for all.'
"And your enemy boosh?" Asked E.J.
'We will kidnap many, and hold them hostage,' replied the voice. 'The enemy boosh will follow us off the planet, for they are not bound by the air. They will come to continue battle with us on the other world.'
"Why can't Nichole and I just come back with you on one of the alien vessels?" E.J. asked.
'Um...' The voice seemed to hesitate. 'The trip to the alien home world is a one way trip for humans. Their planet has rings. You will survive a trip to the surface, with some damage, but a trip back off into space will break you in half.'
"I see," E.J. tried to reason through it, but his brain was full of fog.
A vivid image conjured into his head of Nichole Thom. He was sitting next to her on the dock, watching the sunset turn the river orange.
"As expected from a deal with the devil," said E.J. "You've given me the bare minimum amount of hope for me to follow through on my end of the bargain, but everything still sucks."
----
Outside the warehouse, Agent Veltkamp and Agent Chamberlain joined the rest of the agents; three of which were standing idle by the door with comically large guns, two more had just finished stretching red tape across the trees around the parameter, and one who lit a fire in a metal barrel and was warming his hands near it like a hobo.
"Why are you acting like a hobo, Agent Ladue?" Asked Agent Veltkamp.
"Don't you know, hobo is short for homeless bomeless, Agent Ladue?" Asked Agent Chamberlain.
"Your new nickname is Agent Homeless Bomeless, Agent Ladue," informed Agent Veltkamp.
"Here ye!" Shouted Agent Chamberlain to the rest of the squad. "Hither forth and forever more, Agent Ladue shall now be known as Agent Homeless Bomeless!"
"Copy that," said one of the other agents.
"Roger," said another, dramatically ripping off his sunglasses.
They all simultaneously became aware of headlights coming in their direction.
"It's about time the transport vehicle got here," muttered Agent Homeless Bomeless. "The sun is almost completely set now, and it's getting chilly. Hence this metal barrel fire. Also, I'm worried there's bears out here. I heard somewhere the bears here will attack you if you make fun of bald people."
"Stop talking, Agent Homeless Bomeless," said Agent Chamberlain. "Something is wrong."
As the lights drew closer, they realized it wasn't a government transport vehicle, but rather a pedestrian bus.
Sasha, the sexy bus driver, pulled the bus up to the break in the red tape and let Mallory, Joe, Stu, Scott, Butt-Julio, Seasick Nick, Cuddle Puddle, Will Spears, Alabama Rectangle Spatula, and Ugg Boots all off in front of the intelligence agents. They each had picket signs, most of them from previous protests, thus saying a mishmash of unrelated things like "LGBTQ+ rights to-day!" and "piracy is not a victimless crime!" and "Saturday!" and "e^i*pi+1=0!". As they stepped off the bus, they chanted, "Heck! No! We won't go!"
The agents by the door pointed their comically large guns upward. Agent Veltkamp dramatically ripped off his sunglasses, "What is this?"
Joe marched up to Agent Veltkamp with a megaphone, which he brought up to his mouth and said, "
"Ouch! What?" Agent Veltkamp reacted.
"
"Stop that!" Agent Veltkamp took away his megaphone. "I'm right here. We're all right here. We can hear you better without that thing. What is this about?"
"What is this about!?" Joe repeated indignantly. "I'll tell you what this is about! ...Mallory, tell them what this is about!"
Mallory stepped forward and shouted, "Y'all are wearing dark sunglasses after sunset, but they'd look better on my bedroom floor!"
"Okay, Stu, tell them what this is about!" Joe said indignantly.
Stu stepped forward, "this is about cic-binary, heteronormativity in classified documents! You intelligence agent suits are always assuming everyone's gender identity in classified documents AND WE'RE SICK OF IT!"
"YEAH! HECK! NO! WE WON'T GO!" The mob riled up.
"But how would you even know!?" Agent Veltkamp tried to shout above the rabble. "They're classified documents! It takes twenty years before documents are declassified!"
----
E.J. crossed the floor, stepping over cakes and cookies and brownies and frosting and dried up, sticky puddles of ice cream, toward the fish rocket, carrying the unconscious Sok on his shoulders. Before he got there, Melvin and Posie stepped out from behind it.
"Let her go," said Melvin.
"Melvin?" E.J. said, surprised. "I thought I left you back at the fair. I'm surprised to see you here. What brings you to this neck of the woods."
"The alien you're holding," Melvin pointed. "We need you to let her go."
"What, this alien?" E.J. gestured at Sok, sarcastically. "What could you want with this alien? Gasp! Don't tell me you've been the one hiding it from me this whole time!?"
"You don't understand what you're doing, E.J.," said Posie.
"No YOU don't understand!" Barked E.J. "The stakes are higher than you two realize! This is my chance to get all the alien scum off the planet for good! All of them!"
"Woah, what do you mean all of them?" Melvin asked.
"They've been here the entire time we have, Melvin," E.J.'s voice shook a little. "These big, invisible, woefully powerful aliens. Warring with each other, affecting human history, driving men crazy with faux religious warfare. All the old gods, and angels, and demons, and baals, I can finally make it all go away! We'll finally be truly free from bodiless powers! There will be nothing but us, humans, doing what's right in our own eyes without outside influence! Doesn't that sound great?"
"E.J., that's crazy," said Melvin. "Sok is our friend. She's not warring with anyone."
"No it's not crazy!" E.J. yelled. "It's NOT! I'm going to get all these aliens off this planet once and for all, and you can't stop me! They're gonna go back into the sky where they belong, and they're gonna regret they ever came here! They're gonna regret using our planet as a war zone! They're gonna regret haunting our houses, and possessing our neighbors! They're gonna regret every child sacrifice, every holy war, and every probed hillbilly! And they're DEFINITELY gonna regret taking my Nichole away from me!"
E.J. marched forward toward them, growing darker by the second, as though a shadow was coming over him. Posie shirked back, and Melvin stepped in front of her. E.J. tried to barrel through them, and Melvin tried to grab Sok out of his grip. He pulled back; Melvin clenched his fist and socked him in the face, knocking his goggles off. E.J. glared at him with eyes as white as ash, bright in contrast with the rest of his shadowed form. Melvin hadn't seen his brother without his goggles for a long time. Were they always like this? He could see all the burns around his eyes, on his cheeks and cutting off half an eyebrow.
"I'm so sorry," said Melvin.
E.J. picked him up with his free hand like he weighed nothing, and tossed him across the room into Joe's crazy wall desk. He then tossed Sok's unconscious body into the fish rocket, and jumped into it himself in a single bound. The fish rocket audibly activated with vibrating and whirring sounds, and Posie yelped in surprise, backing up a couple paces from it. It began to slowly hover off the ground.
"Posie!" Melvin called, as he grabbed a chair and tossed it across the room to her. She caught it, jumped onto it, leaped off of it, and grabbed the side of the fish rocket by the open roof hatch. The rocket hovered higher faster, and began to close the hatch. She struggled to pull herself up, and dropped into the rocket before it closed, just in time to feel the unmistakable turbulence of the vessel breaking through the ceiling.
E.J. shoved her off his lap, opened the hatch back up and rotated the rocket so that the hatch was facing out sideways. He grabbed Posie, dragged her to the opening, and held her by the front of her shirt out over the drop. She grabbed his arm with her hands, looked out and saw they were flying higher and higher, over the river, and above the tree tops. She could see practically the whole town, like a little model village. The fireworks started at the fair, and the pops and fizzles cast eerie colored light on E.J.'s shadowed face.
"Don't do this!" She pleaded. "I'm Posie Pillow! I'm your friend! I'm dating your brother! I used to hang out all the time with Nick!"
E.J. grimaced, his hand shaking, and he let out a primal growl that sounded like several voices. He threw Posie back into the fish rocket. Sok stirred awake, and tried to lift herself up, but winced and clutched her shoulder.
"This meat suit won't let me kill you," said E.J. "But make no mistake: I am not your friend Elijah James Hemmingway."
"Then who are you?" Asked Posie.
"You can call me Butt-Ton, cause that's about how many of us there are," said Butt-Ton.
"Posie?" Sok looked up at her.
"E.J.," said Posie. "If you're in there, I still love you, and I'm here to help. An angel of the Lord sent me."
"HA!" Bellowed Butt-Ton. "That's just like the enemy to send in the least likely to succeed as cavalry. Trying to relive the glory days of David and Goliath, I'm sure. One time, I was about to bring his whole civilization down, his pride and joy, and his last ditch effort was to send a naked man to lay down in the public streets and shout prophesies at a pan through a brick!"
"Xabriel said it's funnier to them if you demons are brought down by something lowly," mocked Posie. "He said it's funnier the more shameful it is for you."
"When did you learn the language of my planet?" Asked Sok, seemingly in fluent English.
"What?" Posie looked at her. "Oh, I have the gift of tongues now. I didn't even realize I was speaking another language. That's neat."
Butt-Ton loomed darkly in front of the opening, reflecting the fireworks, "Little Posie Pillow. The little girl everyone thinks is weird, even after she stopped being taller than everyone else her age. We've gotten so close, haven't we? Such a stupid girl for coming here. Always messing things up. Can't make a decision to save your life, can't handle the future without a boy to leech off of. And yet here you are, thinking you can take us on? You fool! We're the old gods! We are impossibly old. We remember Babel and Babylon. We were there for the construction of the monoliths, the ziggurats, and all the ancient cities. We watched as thousands of generations of you humans spent a few miserable years, slaves to your stomachs and your hormones. We were there when from dust you came, and we've been watching as to dust you all slowly return. And this whole time, as we've been crawling on the ground like snakes, we ate that dust; your ashes were ours to rule. And as you sink farther into the Earth and dirt and sheol, that's where we wait to claw our way back up, to take our place in creation. Your eschaton is upon you. The dawn of a new day for the Rapheim is neigh."
"Are you making some of those words up?" Asked Posie. "I have the gift of tongues now, you know. You can't pull one over on me."
"It's fitting that your friend's name is Elijah. For it is on this chariot that we are finally able to rise and conquer the heavens!"
Sok leapt up and tried to tackle him, but he grabbed her by the throat.
"Sok!" Posie shrieked. "Let her go! What do you want from me!? I'll do anything!"
Butt-Ton smiled, "kill yourself."
Posie stayed silent.
"Go on, then," encouraged Butt-Ton, with his hand still on Sok's throat. "We've been trying to get you to kill yourself for weeks now. We'll just keep squeezing her throat."
"Don't do it!" Sok choked. "God is with you!"
"God is most certainly not with you," said Butt-Ton.
"Why would you care if I kill myself?" Asked Posie. "You're not the old gods! You're nothing but little logismoi! LORD HAVE MERCY!" She shouted with her eyes shut, licked her thumb and crossed herself. As she followed through the cross motion, her elbow struck a light on the fish rocket wall, and the whole vessel shook and rotated. Butt-Ton yelped, and dropped Sok as he tried to grab onto the side of the hatch. As the opening rotated to the bottom, facing the river, his fingers slipped, and he fell out. Posie and Sok both slid to the opening, and Sok grabbed onto the edge of the hatch, screaming in pain from her shoulder. Posie lost her footing and slipped out as well, but Sok caught her by the wrist, gritting her teeth.
Posie watched in horror as E.J. tumbled into the river.
The two quickly realized the rocket was headed into the trees, and being unable to climb back into it, they braced themselves for impact.
----
"Posie? Posie?" Posie heard Melvin's voice call her name, clearer and clearer, as she woke up. She felt him shaking her. She also felt a large stick under her back, and a splitting headache. She opened her eyes.
"She's awake!" Melvin said. She looked up and saw Stu and Sok were standing nearby, Stu was resetting Sok's shoulder. "You had us so worried!"
"What's happening?" She asked.
"What's happening?" She asked.
"We found you first," he answered. "The intelligence agents are looking everywhere though."
"I realize this is sudden," said Stu. "But I think the best plan is to go grab that rocket and get Sok the heck out of here before they show up, while the fireworks are still happening."
Posie sat up, "You mean... we gotta say goodbye to her right now?"
"I mean, I don't WANT to necessarily," admitted Melvin.
Posie couldn't fight back the tears any longer, "I can't, I can't I... I'm so sorry."
Melvin wrapped his arms around her, but she shoved him off.
"I just killed your brother," she said without looking him in the eye.
"What?" Melvin reacted darkly.
"I didn't mean to," she sobbed.
Sok explained the whole thing to them in what they heard as perfect English. She described it in a way that lifted the blame off of Posie entirely, as though it was a necessary accident; a divine providence in the face of an evil that was no longer Melvin's brother, despite the resemblance. It didn't make Posie feel any better.
"He was still in there," Posie sobbed. "He couldn't kill me. How can you ever forgive me?"
Melvin stood stunned in disbelief for several minutes.
Stu waited for him to respond, and when he didn't, he said, "Hey, guys, we need to go now. I thought I heard sirens."
Posie and Melvin slowly stood to their feet, and the four of them walked in silence, following a divot in the ground that lead them to the fish rocket.
"This is too much," said Melvin.
"I will miss you, Malween," said Sok, she came in for a hug. "I am sorry about your brother."
"We'll miss you too, Sok," said Stu. Sok came over and hugged him. Then she went to Posie, who was still sobbing, and silently hugged her goodbye. She began to crawl into the rocket, then stopped.
She looked back at them, "guys, I can't leave the planet yet. I don't have my space suit."
"Oh, is that important?" Stu asked.
"Yes," said Sok. "If E.J. had successfully left the planet, all three of us would have suffocated in space."
"Okay, new plan," said Stu. "Just go park somewhere else, and meet us at Melvin's. You'll just have to have a later departure, without the fireworks. What are they gonna do, chase you home?"
"Okay, see you soon," said Sok. She climbed into the rocket and the three friends watched it activate, hover upward and fly away.
---
Agent Veltkamp and Agent Chamberlain returned to the warehouse to secure what they could while the rest of the agents continued to comb the woods in search of the fish rocket. As they approached the doorway, they saw Mallory Gates, still here, holding a stack of notebooks and folders.
"Hello, boys," she said, as smarmily as she could.
"I'm not a boy, I'm a lady," said Agent Chamberlain, ripping her sunglasses off dramatically.
"Do you maybe want to hand those notebooks over?" Agent Veltkamp extended his arm out to receive them.
"I don't know," replied Mallory. "I was thinking about burning them here in this convenient barrel."
"Ma'am, that's classified government material," said Agent Veltkamp.
"Is it?" Questioned Mallory. "It's very cis-binary in here. I should know, I wrote it."
"What are you playing at?" Asked Agent Chamberlain.
"You don't know what's in these folders, do you? I'll tell you. It's weeks of translated information from an alien space craft. Cultural practices, diary entries, science, numbers, technological blueprints... Awful lot of valuable information in here. That's not even all. This," she took the alien translation earpiece out of her ear. "Is a piece of actual alien technology. So far, we know it's capable of learning, I assume it can translate any language it hears or sees, it can store massive amounts of information, and it can project pictures. Who knows what's still hidden in this earpiece alone. And I'm thinking about burning it all."
"What do you want?" Agent Chamberlain asked.
Mallory smiled, "well.... my fiancé and I have been pushing for a research and development department for awhile now. I think this warehouse is as good a place as any to build it. Both our families are from Port Teague, after all, such a special little town. We could be very powerful assets to you, reverse engineering alien technology and unpacking our findings. Or I could be the biggest mistake you ever made, and burn this gold right here right now."
"Mallory," laughed Agent Veltkamp. "I like your style. Why didn't you just extort us in the first place?"
"Welcome to the Intelligence Agency," Agent Chamberlain dramatically ripped her sunglasses off and winked.
----
Three years later, Joe Michaels walked up to a breakfast diner on the riverfront in Port Teague that had a faux lighthouse attached to it. He went inside, and sat down at a table where someone had left a local town newspaper. He picked it up and recognized Mallory's face on the front; the apparent figurehead of a government research and development department located in town. The article stated that initiatives undertaken by Elijah James Hemmingway and his wife, Mallory Gates-Hemmingway, served to shelter the local economy from a recession following a recent federal government shutdown.
Melvin Hemmingway approached the table with five cups of coffee; one in each hand, one in each armpit, and one tucked into the front of his pants. He set them all down on the table.
"Would you like anything to drink?" Asked Melvin.
"I could take a cup of joe," said Joe. "That's my name. Joe. I'll take a cup of me."
"Okay, I'll go get another one," said Melvin.
"Look at this," interrupted Joe. "It says here E.J. and Mallory are running this R&D department?"
"You didn't know?" Melvin asked. "I would've thought you'd be a part of it."
"I wasn't invited," said Joe looking back at the article. "This is the first I'm hearing of it. Have you heard from E.J.?"
Melvin shook his head, "no, not since the incident. No one has, not even mom and dad. I take it you haven't either?"
"Nope."
"I'm not even sure he's actually alive," Melvin said. "He hasn't been in any of the photos, and Mallory takes all the interviews, like some sort of figurehead."
"You think she's pretending he's still alive for the press?" Joe asked. "That'd be weird. Even for her."
"Maybe," Melvin said, unconvincingly.
"This is a pretty nice restaurant," said Joe. "I like the lighthouse theme."
"Thanks, it was Posie's idea," said Melvin.
"Oh, is she here?"
"Yeah, she's in the back, want to say hi?"
"Sure!"
Joe stood up and followed Joe behind the sales counter. As they passed, he noticed they had a collection of icons hanging on the back wall, like at the Hummingbird, only this collection featured a rather large icon of Jesus made out of neon lights.
"Hey, Melvin, what's up with this?" Asked Joe, pointing at it.
"Do you like it?" Asked Melvin. "I made it myself."
"I know art is subjective," said Joe. "But neon might be the least redeemable media."
"Christ is the redeemer," said Melvin.
"Is that Joe?" Posie called from the kitchen.
They stepped into the kitchen and saw Posie stirring eggs on a skillet, dressed head to toe in yellow denim with a matching chef hat. She put the spatula down, with a big smile and waved at him. Right next to her was-
"No way! She's still here??" said Joe.
"Shh keep your voice down," shushed Melvin.
Sok smiled and waved, with an oven mitt on her hand.
She was cooking the bacon.
