Kangblabla!

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Kangblabla! Page 10

by Andrew Gates

“At last we meet! I see you got my message. Stay where you are. I will be down momentarily.”

  I didn’t remember arraigning a meeting with anyone. I think I would have remembered that. But still, I felt compelled to stay and wait to see whoever was waiting for me. I thwittled my thumbs, just killing time.

  Suddenly a great flash of blue light emanated from the center of the room. Electric bolts shot out in every direction. I had to place my hands before my eyes just to prevent from going blind.

  As the light faded away, a large slug-like animal suddenly took its place. The creature was nearly the size of a car and smelled like sewage. I practically gagged just sitting in the same room with it.

  Now of course, seeing a giant slug monster was not on the list of things I expected to have happen to me that day. So as any rational human would do, I freaked out.

  “Holy shit!” I shouted as I jumped up from my chair. I knocked over the soda cup in my seat’s armrest. It toppled to the floor and covered my shoes.

  “Ryan,” the slug said. Its deep voice was the same as the speaker from earlier.

  It said my name. Now that absolutely freaked me out. I sprinted through the row of chairs, hoping to get away as fast as I could.

  “Ryan,” it repeated, “do not venture away. I have traveled lightyears to reach you.”

  I paused when I heard the word lightyears. I couldn’t believe it. Was this thing really from space? Did an alien travel all this way to meet me?

  I turned to face the slug, not knowing what madness compelled me in that moment. Don’t get me wrong, I was terrified, but my curiosity was stronger than my fear.

  “H… how do you know my name?” I asked, trying to get the obvious out of the way first.

  “You test me?” the slug said. It slowly moved forward, up the aisle. And by slow, I mean sloooow. “Very well,” it continued. “I know your name because you are our only hope. Only you can save our Empire.”

  “Only… only me?” I repeated.

  “Only you,” the slug confirmed. He stared at me with what I guess were his eyes. “Was that the answer you were looking for?”

  “Uh… yes,” I lied. “That is.”

  “Come, Ryan, for there is not much time. We have but one day to unite the Empires.”

  “Unite the… what?”

  “To unite the Empires,” the creature repeated. “Surely the hearing of your race is not that poor.”

  “No, I can hear just fine, kangblabla.”

  “What?” the slug replied.

  Alright, so for that last reference, you must understand that back in 1979 in Philadelphia, everyone said kangblabla. It was “the word”. You could say, “Hey, that store is kangblabla,” or “Joe is such a kangblabla.” You get it, right? Anyway, moving on…

  “Uhm… never mind,” I said. I hoped this alien didn’t think I was an idiot or someone who didn’t know English. But then again, this alien was speaking English somehow. So maybe he was the idiot for not knowing the slang?

  “Ryan, we must get moving,” the creature continued.

  Now in that moment, I could have made the smart decision. I could have said, “Hey dude, you must have me confused for someone else.” I could have said those words, turned and walked away. Minutes later, I’d be in my car, beating the drag.

  But I didn’t do that. The prospect of meeting a space alien was just too cool to drop.

  “Yes, I understand,” I lied. “Let’s get going!”

  The next thing I knew, an aura of blue light surrounded me, followed by what looked like flashes of lighting. Before I knew it, the world around me lit up like a second sun.

  What had I gotten myself into?

  I knew only one thing for certain: this was about to be the most exciting Valentine’s Day of my life.

  Roll the Opening Credits!

  If this were a movie, this would be the point after the first few scenes when the dramatic music starts playing and the opening credits begin to roll, providing the viewer with a sense of adventure. I could see a colorful montage of planets and asteroids and other various space-y things flying past the camera. The music would ring to flashy text like something out of that new Superman movie with Christopher Reeve.

  But alas, this is not a movie. It’s just a narrative retelling of my adventures, told in the first-person no less (a lazy writing style if you ask me). So, I’m sorry, but there’s no flashy montage here.

  The next thing I saw as I teleported away from the dimly-lit cinema was the interior of what I guessed must have been some type of meeting room. The room itself was nice and spacious. The walls were lined with holographic artwork, the ceiling was tall, and the room was wide and well-heated.

  Unfortunately, it was also filled with slug-people and it reeked like the inside of a hot porta-potty.

  “Gah!” I instinctively muttered, barely able to hold back the feeling of vomit in the back of my throat. The scent was just too overbearing. I hoped the slugs didn’t notice my disgust, but man it was disgusting.

  “Greetings traveler! I see that Gorgumspot collected you appropriately,” one of the slugs said as it slooowly slid across the slippery white floor to meet me. Its voice was just as deep as the one who met me on Earth. I assumed he was also a male.

  This slug, whoever he was, wore a crown atop his head. Upon noticing the crown, my first thought should have been, is this the king? Instead, my first thought was, how the hell did he put that crown on without any hands? To be honest, I’m still wondering that to this day.

  “Hello, yes your friend… uh… Gorlampot collected me from the movie theater,” I replied, doing my best to remember the name.

  “Gorgumspot,” the king slug corrected.

  “Gorlaspot,” I replied.

  “Gorgumspot,” the king said again.

  “Gorgumsot?”

  “Gorgumspot.” This time Gorgumspot said it.

  “Gorgumspot,” I repeated.

  “Yes! You got it!” the king replied in a tone that I took for happiness, though to be honest, it was difficult to get a read on these guys.

  “Sorry,” I said, turning to face Gorgumspot. “It’s a difficult name. We don’t have a lot of names like that on Earth.”

  “Do not worry, earthling. It took me nearly a dozen times to pronounce your name… Ryan.”

  I simply nodded back, not sure what else to say. I turned to face the king again.

  “Do all of your people have names like Gorgumspot?” I asked.

  “We all have different names. Some are easier to pronounce than others. To my left, this is Shubadalak, next to her, Crimsemolator, and next to him, Snarlafapus. To my right, this is Renlekovispot, then Werdiningnolok, and finally, Grekovolichokianiabusta.” Each of the slugs bowed as their name was spoken.

  Shit, I thought. Remembering all these names was going to be goddamn impossible.

  “And what is your name, your Majesty?” I asked.

  “My name is Queen Kevin.”

  “Kevin? That’s your name?”

  “It is,” the king replied, nodding. “You have pronounced it correctly! Congratulations!”

  “Yes, Kevin I can say. But you must be mistaken. The word ‘Queen’ is for females. Surely you mean ‘King Kevin’, right?” I corrected.

  “On the contrary!” Kevin retorted. “I am female, just like Gorgumspot.”

  I suddenly felt very embarrassed. This entire time, I’d assumed I was talking to a male. If this was how the females talked, I could not imagine how deep the male voices must have been.

  “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you,” I said, hoping Kevin would not be mad.

  “I take no offense in the slightest. My race is unfamiliar to you. It will take time for you to become acquainted with my people.”

  “Yes… uh… who are you people, anyway?”

  “We are the Grelovians, obviously. I assumed you knew that,” Kevin said.

  “Oh, yes, I knew that,” I lied.

  “Earth is just on th
e border of the Grelovian Empire, but still within our boundaries. You were close enough to transport aboard our ship,” Kevin continued.

  “Transport? You mean like beaming from Star Trek?”

  “Star Trek? What is this?” Kevin replied in a tone of confusion.

  “Your Majesty, Star Trek is a legend in the earthling culture. The story tells of the perilous voyages of Captain Spock of the Startrek Energize,” Gorgumspot explained.

  So close, but just wrong enough to be wrong. I didn’t bother correcting Gorgumspot, though. It was close enough, after all.

  “I see. Your Earth legends sound fascinating. I look forward to learning more about your culture,” Kevin said, nodding her head.

  “Thank you,” I replied. I looked around the vast room. “So… you said we’re in a space ship right now?”

  “Yes, aboard the fleet’s flagship, the most powerful warship in the Grelovian Empire,” Kevin replied. “We call it the GES Puppy.”

  I could not help but chuckle. I covered my mouth with both hands, hoping the slugs did not take offense.

  “I’m sorry, but did you say the most powerful warship in the fleet is called the Puppy?”

  “That is correct,” Kevin answered.

  “Like… a baby dog?”

  “What is a dog? In our home world, puppies are powerful and dangerous monsters. They have six limbs, long wings and claws as sharp as spears.”

  “Your Majesty,” Gorgumspot interjected, “on Earth, ‘puppy’ is the term given to young canines. Think of canines as more or less slaves bred for enjoyment and cuteness.”

  “I see,” Kevin replied.

  That time Gorgumspot was right on the money.

  “Okay, so I’ve been beamed aboard a spaceship in your fleet called the Puppy and Earth, my planet, is within the boundaries of your interstellar Empire. Am I following this so far?” I asked, just making sure I understood the details.

  “That is correct, Ryan,” Kevin said. “You understand everything!”

  “And so… why am I here?” I finally asked, getting to the big question.

  “Didn’t Gorgumspot explain this to you already?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well…” Kevin continued, “you have been chosen because the Grelovian Empire and the Marsh Colonies are at odds. Our governments are upon the verge of war. It is my belief that the only thing which can bring peace to the universe and set our governments in line is a union.”

  “A union? You mean like one big government alliance?” I asked.

  “No, earthling. I mean a union between two people. How do you say this in your language?”

  “Marriage?”

  “Exactly!” Kevin said with enthusiasm. “A marriage!”

  “You’re saying that someone from the Grelovian Empire is going to marry someone from the Marsh Colonies so that your two governments will have peace?” I asked, once again just trying to keep the story straight.

  “Yes! You are so smart!” Kevin answered.

  “So what does that have to do with me?” I wondered.

  “You agreed to marry Princess Mayra,” Gorgumspot replied without hesitation.

  I turned to face Gorgumspot as I heard those words. I couldn’t believe my ears.

  “I agreed to what?”

  “We discussed this many days ago,” Gorgumspot continued. “The Marsh race is too disgusting for us Grelovians. None of our people wished to marry such a vile, hideous animal. Since none of our kind were willing, we turned to Earth, still on the outer edge of our Empire. Though not biologically Grelovian, you are still members of our government.”

  “Earth is a member of this interstellar government?” I asked.

  “Yes, and you have been for quite some time.”

  “Well, something must be wrong. I never agreed to marry anyone!” I debated.

  “Are you not Ryan Simpson?”

  “No, I’m Ryan Gifford.”

  “Oh.” Gorgumspot’s jaw dropped, or whatever made the mouth move (do slugs have jaws?).

  “Gorgumspot, did you bring me the wrong earthling?” Kevin asked with a tone of surprise in her voice.

  “But… but… he was right where we agreed to meet! He was in the movie theater!” Gorgumspot said.

  Suddenly it hit me. I remembered the man who dashed across South Street and lost his ticket. That man, I realized, must have been Ryan Simpson.

  “Holy shit,” I muttered as I made the connection.

  “What did you say?” Kevin asked.

  “Oh, I said… uh… I said that I am Ryan Simpson!” I lied, making up an answer as fast as I could. The slugs may have been looking for a different Ryan, but if they thought I was the wrong one, I was worried they would kill me or lock me away in a dungeon or something. So I did what I thought was rational: I decided to become Ryan Simpson.

  “Oh, good,” Gorgumspot said, sighing. “For a moment I thought you said you weren’t Ryan Simpson and that you were Ryan Gifford.”

  “Whaaat?” I responded. “I never said that. Your hearing must be bad, kangblabla.”

  “Gorgumspot,” Gorgumspot replied.

  “Yes, sorry, I know. Gorgumspot.”

  “Then it is settled!” Queen Kevin said with a grin (I think). “Ryan Simpson will marry Princess Mayra tonight!”

  “Tonight?” I repeated, startled by how quickly this was all coming together.

  “Yes, tonight, earthling. We cannot wait any longer. War is imminent. This union may be the only thing to prevent it!” Kevin explained.

  I gulped. Married tonight. Those words were a lot to consider.

  In one day, I’d gone from being a depressed loner without a date on Valentine’s Day to a groom preparing for an intergalactic wedding. How the hell did that happen?

  The Chapter Where I Meet the Girl

  Alright douchebags, here’s the deal…

  I confess, I’ve always wanted to say that as an opening line. It has nothing to do with the story, but I just wanted to say that. Sorry if the word douchebags put you off. I didn’t mean to offend anyone.

  Anyway, moving right along… What was the last thing I was talking about? Oh, that’s right: the wedding.

  The Grelovians had just told me how ugly this princess supposedly was. And this was coming from a race of hideous slug-people. So right now, I was pretty damn worried about what this Princess Mayra was going to look like. I mean, think about it: if these grotesque blue blobs found her disgusting, she must have been appalling! No wonder the only guy they could get to agree to marry her was some desperate loner from south Philadelphia.

  As you can imagine, I was as nervous as President Nixon during the scandal. Oh boy, I just couldn’t deal with the stress. The thought kept racing through my mind: was I about to marry a hellish monster?

  The Grelovians took me to some room in the Puppy they called the Preparation Chamber. Now, I don’t know about you guys, but when I hear the words “Preparation Chamber”, that doesn’t sound all too good. I’m not going to walk into that room feeling like I’m safe. But to my surprise, it was no more than a dressing room. Thank god.

  Clothes were already set out for me when I entered the Preparation Chamber (there’s no way I can say that without grimacing). Apparently the Grelovians already sized me up, either that or this other Ryan and I happened to share the same body type. Either way, the clothes fit.

  Before you get all excited about the idea of space clothes, it’s important that I first define what I mean by “clothes”. You see, the Grelovians decided not to dress me like a normal human. Instead, they gave me nothing but socks, some weird metal piece that covered my crotch, and the biggest goddamn hat you’ve ever seen. It was stocked with feathers and flowers and all.

  I took off my regular clothes and casted them aside. I started with the crotch piece. It was heavy and metal and not flexible whatsoever. Just wiggling my legs in the thing, I have never chaffed so badly in my life. I immediately took it off and put on my underwear underneath it, ho
ping the Grelovians wouldn’t notice. It didn’t solve the problem, but at least the chaffing wasn’t quite as bad.

  Next, I put the socks on. This was easy. They weren’t unlike human socks.

  Finally, the part I knew was going to be the hardest: the fucking hat. I stared at the huge headpiece as it rested on a plastic bust. The headpiece must have been three feet tall, maybe more. I tried lifting it and realized it weighed more than my new Quasar color television set. This was going to be like wearing a couple of bowling balls on my head.

  I hoisted it up and placed it on. I fell off balance immediately, nearly toppling onto the floor. I managed to grab hold of the walls just to stay upright. I straightened out and got my balance, trying to keep my head as perfectly still as possible. It took a few moments, but I finally got the hang of it so long as I looked directly forward the entire time.

  I stared at myself in the mirror. My fat, hairy chest hung out for all the world to see. My head looked like a peacock and my groin looked like a buried treasure. I looked like, by all meanings of the term, a funkadelic hag.

  All I can say is, if I saw myself like this for the first time, I would not want to marry me.

  I turned to the door and opened it up. I had to crouch almost three feet down just to get my headpiece through the frame. Once on the other side, I stood upright again. Another Grelovian waited for me in the long hallway. It smiled and slooowly moved toward me.

  “Oh, Ryan, you look dashing! Princess Mayra will no doubt be impressed!” this slug said. Like the others, its voice was deep and powerful.

  “Thank you,” I replied. “Who are you?”

  “I work for Queen Kevin. I am to escort you to the princess so that the two of you may meet prior to your wedding.”

  “Well that’s good. Here I thought I might not meet her until I said my vows. How much time are you going to give us together?”

  “A long time. Do not worry about that.”

  “Okay,” I replied, feeling a bit more excited now to finally meet my mystery bride, as ugly as she might be. Don’t get me wrong, I was still very worried, but excited too. “And what do I call you? Wait… let me guess: something long and difficult like ‘Gorgumspot’?”

 

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