by Andrew Gates
Oh shit, close the shades! Stop, stop, stop. Pause the story!
It just occurred to me that Draug is ‘Guard’ backwards. Holy shit, are you serious? This is wizard. Honestly, what’s with all these names? Is this intentional? It’s got to be intentional, right?
Alright, alright, guys. I know that I’m getting off topic again. Sorry about that. I guess I tend to go on tangents like that, but hey, that’s what you get when you read a story written in the first-person.
Okay… where was I? Ah yes, now I remember. Draug had just told us about how he scared the attacker away and he was bleeding out everywhere all over the place. It was grody.
“I’m calling for backup,” the guard said as he peered out through the door, making sure the hallway was now clear.
“Good thinking,” Draug said, struggling to get the words out as he bled all over the table.
“I’m going to-”
Pew!
Suddenly the guard dropped to the floor as he peered out. His body sizzled under the laser burn.
“No!” I shouted, knowing that Draug was too weak to protect me. I was basically on my own now.
“Quick, Ryan, grab my gun!” Draug said, motioning to the pistol on the floor.
I crawled to the weapon and picked it up, feeling it in my hands. I had never held a gun before (again, save the crime jokes for Camden), but I figured it couldn’t be too hard to use. Just point and shoot, I thought to myself. After all, it looked similar enough to a human firearm.
Footsteps echoed from the hall. I lifted the gun and aimed it to the doorway. As soon as the door came open, I squeezed the trigger. A laser blast erupted from my weapon and singed the intruder, who fell down onto his back.
“That’s him!” Draug shouted. “Run, Ryan, run!”
I did as Draug commanded. I bolted out of there as fast as I could, taking advantage of this momentary window of opportunity. My muscles ached, but I ignored the pain. I just wanted to get as far away from that shooter as possible.
My aimless run took me to a part of the ship marked ‘Live Animal Storage’. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but I ran into that sector and leaned down to catch my breath. I had taken a random route to get here, so I figured there was no way the attacker could know where to find me.
I was wrong.
Only seconds later, that familiar sound of footsteps echoed through the halls. Somehow, he had found me.
“Ryan of Earth!” the attacker shouted. His voice seemed to bounce off every surface.
I crouched behind a box and sat still.
“Ryan of Earth!” the attacker repeated. “I will find you! You cannot hide! Your human scent is pungent and my nose is strong.”
So that’s how he found me.
“This marriage between you and Princess Mayra… it makes me sick!” he continued. “The Grelovian Empire is our enemy. To form a union with those disgusting slugs is treachery!”
I grasped Draug’s stolen pistol tightly.
“I know who you are,” I replied, still not exactly sure where my enemy was, but I figured I would speak back anyway. “I was told you were a radical, a terrorist in the Marsh Colonies.”
“Grelovian lies!”
“No, not Grelovian lies. It was a Marsh man who told me those words, the same Marsh man you left bloody on that table. Your own people do not even support your wild ambitions!”
“They do not understand!” the attacker shouted back.
At last, the man rounded a corner and I saw him clearly. Like Draug, he was bloody, but continued along undeterred nonetheless. He made eye contact with me and raised his pistol.
I rolled behind the crate just in time as a laser blast singed the edge of my cover. I could feel the heat around me.
Out of ideas, I blindly lifted my own gun above the crate and squeezed the trigger a few times, not sure whether my shots were doing any good. After a few shots, I pulled the gun back down and listened.
The footsteps continued. My enemy was unscathed.
I peered around the edge and met my attacker’s foot as he kicked me straight in the face. The hit knocked me on my back. I didn’t even realize he was so close.
“Ryan, your time has come,” the man declared, pointing his gun down to me.
I squirmed along the floor. My gun was lost to me. I must have dropped it when I fell onto my back.
“Any final words?” the Marsh man asked.
I turned to look at the crate next to me. In that moment, my eyes scanned the words inscribed on the side. I couldn’t believe it. ‘Hamsters’ it said.
No way.
I rolled to the side and unlocked the case just as the shooter squeezed his trigger. A laser blast burned the floor. I quickly stood up and bounded out of the way as the crate opened and a long tentacle emerged from the box.
“Oh no, not that!” the horrified attacker shouted in fear as a green tentacle wrapped around his leg, forcing him onto the floor. The attacker dropped his gun.
I backed up, taking a few steps away from the hamster cage. I was terrified of the sight, but strangely enough, I couldn’t look away.
The massive tentacle dragged my attacker into the crate and, only seconds later, I heard a strong chomping sound as if it were eating him alive, bones and all. A series of screams followed.
At that point, two thoughts raced through my head. Firstly, I was relieved that my attacker was finally subdued. Secondly, I was horrified that this hamster would eat me like it ate him.
I was paralyzed for about 10 seconds, simply staring straight forward. Then I sprinted out of there as fast as I could, putting as much space between me and that hamster as possible.
I could see now why they made such good guard animals.
Finally, A Valentine’s Day Wedding
A few hours later, everyone was cleaned up and safe. The shooter was dead as a doorknob and the Marsh people’s equivalent of animal control came to take care of the now-freed hamster.
Despite the chaos that had turned life in the Tuna upside down for everybody, the wedding ceremony was still on. According to the Marsh people, nothing, not even a near death experience, would stop this event.
I’ll admit, I was still a bit shaken, but part of me liked that the wedding was still happening. After all, this ceremony was just the thing I needed to forget about the fact that I was almost killed by a terrorist.
The Grelovians had found my old hat (just what I always wanted) and made sure I was all dressed up like I was supposed to be. Joyce was particularly glad (I think) to see me back in my silly attire.
I took a deep breath as I stood outside the wedding hall for the second time. I closed my eyes and reflected on the wild chase that I’d been through and survived. When I reopened my eyes again, Draug stood before me with both arms in casts.
“Draug,” I said, smiling. “You’re alive!”
“I am,” he replied, limping forward.
“Your arms… are they?”
“Are they what?”
“Broken?” I asked.
“They are not broken, no. They are simply bruised.”
“Then why the casts?”
“Casts?” Draug looked confused as he repeated the word. He shook his head. “No, these are not casts. These are ceremonial sleeves. It is customary for the brother of the bride to wear such attire.”
“Brother of the…?”
“That’s right,” Draug said, nodding. “I am Princess Mayra’s brother. But before you ask, I am no prince. I gave up my right to the throne long ago. It has always been my dream to be a royal guard.”
“I see,” I lied. In reality, that made no sense. Why would anyone want to be a guard instead of a prince? “Well,” I continued, “I am glad to see that you are doing well. We are to be brothers-in-law soon.”
“Yes, we are. The law will always be on our side.”
“No, not law… I mean… never mind.”
“Are you ready?” a deep voice asked, prompting me to turn and face
the speaker.
Gorgumspot stood next to me with a crown atop her head.
“Gorgumspot,” I said, smiling. “What are you doing here?”
“I am the new Queen of the Empire,” she explained. “Queen Kevin shall be sorely missed. She was a ruler of incredible passion and wisdom, but her time came to pass as all things do.”
“You’re the ruler now?” I repeated. “Groovy! How did that happen?”
“Yes, groovy indeed,” Gorgumspot agreed. “I was always to be her successor. Our line of succession is clear.”
“But why you?” I wondered. “I thought you were her assistant.”
“I was Queen Kevin’s assistant, yes, but I was also her sister.”
“Her sister?” I repeated. “Is everyone here related?”
“Most of us, yes,” Gorgumspot confirmed.
“I see.”
“Come now, Ryan. Let us go,” she said, bringing us back on topic. “Your marriage awaits!”
I smiled. She was right. In this moment, none of the craziness of this world really mattered anymore. All that mattered was that right now, I would marry the woman of my dreams.
***
Like last time, I entered the ornate chamber decorated with stunning flowers and banners. I smiled again as the crowd of Marsh people and Gelovians alike turned to face me with Queen Gorgumspot by my side.
Princess Mayra smiled at me as she stood next to the altar on the opposite side of the room, still wearing her beautiful dress made of stunning shimmering jewels.
Suddenly music began to play. I felt my heart flutter again and nervously gulped as Gorgumspot and I slooowly walked down the aisle together.
We said nothing as we moved along. No more words needed to be spoken.
30 minutes later, we safely reached the altar. Thankfully nobody wanted to shoot at me this time.
I stared at my bride and she stared back. I had never seen anyone look at me the way she looked at me then. There are no words to describe the feeling of joy that rushed over me in that moment.
“Hi,” she whispered through her smile.
“Hi,” I whispered back.
I was so giddy, I’d almost forgotten about the one-ton weight on my head until a feather fell down and dangled before my eyes. I wiped it away.
The pink-skinned Marsh priest, or whatever he was, stepped forward now, holding a book in both hands. He stopped before us and smiled.
“Dearly beloved,” he began. “Please present your fingers.”
I did as he asked. I stuck my fingers out. I should have known he was going to suck on them. Goddammit, why had I forgotten all about that?
I pulled my moist fingers back and held my hands by my sides, wanting so badly to wipe them off on something.
The priest then sucked on Mayra’s fingers too. She didn’t seem bothered by it at all.
“Thank you,” he said. His eyes lowered to the pages of his book and he cleared his throat. “The crazy daisy is lazy in the hazy maze-y,” he began. “Let us all peruse the shoes that we choose to use, or we lose the booze cruise that we refused to use.” The priest looked directly at me now. “Do not forget these words, Ryan.”
“I… I won’t,” I said, nodding to the man.
“Good.” He turned to Mayra now and looked down at the book again. “Abort the sort of sport that will court your fort,” he read. “And most importantly, the bee’s knees freeze the trees from making a sneeze with keys and glees.”
“I understand,” Mayra replied, nodding to the priest, or whatever he was.
“Good,” he said back to her. “And now a passage for both of you that I have selected from the Holy Book of Xtylipodese.” He cleared his throat and looked down. “Ring-a-ting ting, two cats share their bling. They eat their pudding in the morning sun. Ring-a-dung dung.” He turned the page. “Rooty-toot toot, two men share a boot. The boot is quite large, so all four feet can fit at once. Ring-a-ding ding, the mouse eats the thing. The thing is a tuna, which we all know is ferocious.” And with those words, he closed the book.
“Is that it?” I asked.
“You must heed those words, Ryan. Do not be so quick to move on. The lessons in this sacred text may one day save your life,” the priest said. “The same words formed the foundation for my own marriage to my lovely wife, Efiw.”
Oh my god. Ewif is ‘Wife’ backwards. What the hell…
“I see,” I lied, simply wanting to move this ceremony along.
“Who here has the rings?” he asked.
Rings… thank you! I was so happy to hear those words. For once, something was the same as on Earth.
“I do,” King Gnik said, standing up from the seats. He walked over and presented two rings, both shiny and silver. They were beautiful.
“Thank you. Ryan, Mayra, please take these rings,” the priest said.
Not sure which one was meant for me, I waited until Mayra took hers, then I took mine.
“Please place them on your fingers,” the priest continued.
I eagerly did as he asked.
“And now, as tradition dictates, you may now suck them from each other’s fingers,” the priest said in a tone of enthusiasm.
I paused. That was not what I expected. But before I could even react, Mayra’s mouth was on my hand. She pulled the ring off with her tongue and spat it out onto the floor.
“What the hell,” I muttered as I leaned in and did the same to her.
As I pulled the ring off her finger and spat it down, the priest turned to face the audience and said, “May I present, for the first time, Mister and Misses Ryan Simpson!”
A crowd of thunderous applause responded, sending a weird wave of pride through my spine.
I smiled as I stared out before the crowd of Marsh people and Gelovians. Tears formed in the eyes of Gorgumspot, Joyce, Draug and Gnik, along with the many other faces I did not know.
Somehow, Mayra’s moist fingers found mine. She grasped my hand and I grasped hers.
Despite all the weirdness that had happened, in that moment I knew that everything was going to be okay.
For the first time on Valentine’s Day, I was not alone. And something told me that I would never be alone on Valentine’s Day ever again.
… until Mayra eventually died a few years later, because the Marsh people have short lifespans. But anyway, that’s neither here nor there.
Sorry, I know I tend to digress. Ignore that last part.
How about this… and we all lived happily ever after. How’s that for an ending?
The Intergalactic Post Office
Karen works a simple job behind the counter at the Intergalactic Post Office, responsible for delivering packages across the galaxy. With all walks of life visiting the office each day, she never knows who might walk in!
The Intergalactic Post Office
Karen checked the address one last time on the parcel, then stamped the package for delivery. One box of electro-zapafoids to be sent to someone named William Sprinkler on Venus.
William Sprinkler
3342 Jericho Street
Reswood, GL, 89092
United Formation of Unions
Venus, Sol System
“Will there be anything else for you today?” Karen politely asked to the man standing before her.
“Uh, yeah,” he answered. “I’ll take a sheet of stamps.”
“Planetary or interplanetary?” she asked.
“Planetary,” he answered.
“We have a couple of different designs,” Karen said. She turned and motioned to a poster behind her with the various designs displayed. “There’s Nebulon Trilisese, Zordiak IV, Smelto Marsh, Lake Argorath, or Abraham Lincoln.”
“Ooh, I’ll take the Lincoln stamps,” the man said, pointing to the image of a bearded man in a top hat.
“One sheet. That’ll cost eight zartathans.”
“Here you go,” the man said, transferring the blue-colored holo-cash over to her receiving disk.
“Yo
u have a nice day,” she replied, handing him the sheet of stamps.
“Thanks. You too,” he said before turning and walking off.
Karen was about to summon the next customer to her station when the phone suddenly rang. With a sigh, she turned to the phone and lifted it to her ear.
“Thank you for calling Intergalactic Post. This is Karen,” she said, repeating the same words she delivered dozens of times throughout the day.
“Hello, Karen. I was trying to fill out your online form to print a shipping label from home, but I’m having some problems,” the voice on the other end said.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Karen lied. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Well, I’m trying to ship some items to another planet and it’s asking me for a weight.”
“Right. It’s important that we know the weight so that we can pack the spaceships accordingly. Weight is an important variable so that we know how much we can fit on each ship,” Karen explained. She had rehearsed those words so many times she could recite that response in her sleep.
“I get that, but I have no idea how much this thing weighs.”
“I see,” Karen replied. “Do you have a rough estimate?”
“I mean, it’s pretty heavy, but I’m not great at judging this type of thing.”
“What is it?”
“The item?”
“Yeah, what are you shipping?” Karen asked, hoping that the answer might give her a clue as to how much it might weigh.
“I’m shipping some dumbbells to my cousin on Taragon.”
“Dumbbells?” Karen repeated. “So shouldn’t you know the weight then?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what type of dumbbells are they?”
“A set of 20kg bells. It’s for my cousin. He lives on Taragon.”
“Right, right. I don’t need to know about your cousin,” Karen said, instinctively waving her hand despite talking to someone not in the same room. “Look, if they’re 20kg dumbbells, then you know the weight.”
“I don’t understand. I’m telling you, I haven’t weighted them. I don’t have a scale.”
