Alarmed and angry, the Emperor broke the glass case containing the cherry red hot-line communications device, a direct emergency line to the President of the United States Galactic Federation.
“What new reckless adventurism are you up to this time?” accused the Emperor, watching a sleepy President appear on the monitor screen. “Trespassing on our home world will not be tolerated. Extreme measures will be taken!”
“What?” asked the President. “I do not know what you are talking about. Do you know what time it is? Explain yourself!”
“You dare deny your provocations? Our entire space fleet is on alert. If any harm comes from your continued irresponsible behavior, I will hold you personally liable. I will hold all of humanity responsible.”
“Your Majesty, my commanders are briefing me of the situation as we speak,” replied the President, looking down at a flash message just handed to him by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “They assure me there are no ongoing special projects anywhere near Arthropoda.”
“You admit you spy on us!”
“Now, see here,” replied the President, testily. “You wake me up on Christmas Eve with outlandish accusations from light years away, and expect me to just drop everything and take it?”
“Yes!”
“Fuck you!” shouted the President, hanging up.
* * * * *
The President immediately regretted his outburst of temper. Aides turned away, pretending to have not heard.
“Get the Emperor back on the line, and make the necessary diplomatic apologies,” he ordered. “Blame misunderstandings and a faulty translation device, and sun spots.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the nearest general.
“Christ, man! I don’t need this nonsense. The elections are less than a year away, and the press breathes down my neck every time I turn around. Put our space fleets on alert.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The last thing I need is another diplomatic flap with those damn spiders. What do you think the Emperor is up to now?”
“The Emperor is under domestic pressure to institute parliamentary reforms,” advised the Director of the CIA. “The fool is pandering to his public to cause a distraction. He wants to preserve the absolute power of the Monarchy as long as possible.”
“I knew it!” exclaimed the President. “Freedom and democracy is not in their DNA. That will be their downfall. Alert our allies.”
* * * * *
“Your Majesty, the bogey just changed direction, and is now flying at treetop level in an attempt to avoid detection,” advised a spider general. “The craft is headed straight for Capital City.”
“Do something!” demanded the Emperor, wringing his claws and pacing. “Our capital must me protected at all costs.”
“Perhaps we should take shelter below the palace, suggested the general. “The Americans always attack command and control centers. They think they can shock-and-awe us.”
“The human pestilence president seemed surprised by my call,” commented the Emperor. “I can read their faces. Every lie is given away by muscle twitches and eye movement. Their president might be telling the truth.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but I suspect a ruse.”
“I want confirmation of who, or what, is attacking us. If we are at war, I want to know who we fight. It could be those pervert scorpions causing trouble again!”
“Interceptors will make visual contact shortly,” advised the general, in constant communication with planetary defense forces. “Satellites images will soon be available, too.”
As if on queue, sonic booms shattered windows as the interceptor jets flew overhead.
“Your Majesty,” interrupted a staff officer. “Our pilots report receiving human pestilence radio communications. I am putting the transmissions on audio speaker.”
Immediately the speaker erupted with a cheery human pestilence male voice. “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas and goodwill to all galactic species!”
“Veer away from Capital City,” responded the lead pilot. “We will direct you to a safe zone where you will land your craft and surrender. Resistance is futile!”
“I knew it was the human pestilence all along!” shouted the Emperor, pounding his desk. “Devious devils!”
“It appears the Americans are broadcasting seditious propaganda on our frequencies,” advised the general. “It is a common diversionary tactic. They hope the peasantry will rise up in revolt.”
“Nose-counters would think that,” agreed the Emperor. “There is a lesson to be learned here from their weakness.” “Oh, my God!” radioed the pilot, panicked. “We are being hit by a blinding red light!” “Ho, ho, ho! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen! We must deliver presents and good cheer down chimneys before dawn!” “Did you hear that?” asked the Emperor. “They target chimneys! A whole squadron of human pestilence attacks our civilian population centers! Shoot them all down, now!”
* * * * *
“Mr. President, I am putting through our ambassador from Arthropoda with an emergency message.”
“Mr. President? Ambassador James Yamashita here. Uh, bad news, sir. I fear this day will live in infamy. The spiders just shot down Santa Clause.”
“Those bastards! Any hope of survivors?” “No, sir.” “Not even those cute reindeer?” “No, sir. It was horrible!” “Rudolph is dead?” “Sir, they nuked Santa!” exclaimed Yamashita, weeping. “What do we do now? Cancel Christmas? What about the holiday sales? My wife is already camped outside Walmart. There will be no new and improved Kindles delivered this Christmas for anyone!”
“Dump all of my Amazon.com stock shares,” ordered one of the generals, immediately on the phone to his broker.
“Ambassador Yamashita, deliver your diplomatic credentials to the spiders. You are immediately recalled to Earth. I intend to ask Congress for a Declaration of War against the Arthropodan Empire.”
* * * * *
“Ho, ho, ho! Kill Santa? That’s a good one! Bring nukes to a magic fight? Ho, ho, ho! Bad idea! Ho, ho, ho! Let’s move it, Dasher and Dancer! Pick up the pace, Prancer and Vixen! We’ve got hundreds of thousands of more Kindles to deliver tonight!”
###
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Alien Love
Arthropoda’s beloved Queen Rainbow, born, raised, and Americanized on New Colorado, enjoyed all the comforts royalty and privilege bestowed. However, today she was restless and unhappy. Gazing about her grand bedroom, Queen Rainbow’s temper went off. She proceeded to tear the palace apart, making confetti of the mattress and quilts. Feathers floated in a flurry as her royal rampage continued on to pillows and the high-end Walmart bedroom furniture. She piled the debris at the center of the room, almost to the ceiling. Climbing atop her mountain perch, Her Majesty rang for the servants. “Summon His Majesty immediately!” she ordered.
“His Majesty the Emperor is in sensitive high-level negotiations with the American Ambassador,” advised a nervous servant. “His Majesty ordered that he not be interrupted unless galactic war has erupted on the Frontier.”
“Where exactly is His Majesty located at this moment?” asked Queen Rainbow, barely able to control her temper. “Out with it!”
“He is golfing.”
“I thought so! You tell that sorry excuse for the male gender to get his Royal Personage to my bed chamber now, or I will skewer him with one of his treasured golf sticks. His Majesty will die slow and painful!”
“I cannot tell His Majesty that.”
“Would you rather I skewer you?” threatened Queen Rainbow, shaking her claw menacingly. “I am not in the habit of repeating myself. Get out!”
* * * * *
The Emperor and his entourage cautiously approached the Queen’s chamber. His Majesty placed a hearing receptor to the door and listened. Even royal marines dared come no closer.
“Her Highness appears to have calmed down,” commented Ambassador Yamashita, optimistically. “See? You have nothing to worry about
.”
The Emperor nodded in agreement, squared his shoulders, and bravely entered. “Honey, I’m home!” “Hello sweetie,” replied Queen Rainbow from the mountaintop of rubble in her room. “Come closer, please.” “I don’t think so,” replied the Emperor, knowing Her Majesty’s temperament. “Is something the matter, dearest?” “Get your ass up here now!” “I refuse to indulge your psychotic female tantrums,” insisted the Emperor, immediately regretting his poor choice of words. The Emperor longed for the serenity of the golf course. “If you are having issues, or need assistance, I will call the servants. I will even call your dear sweet mother to humor your erratic whims. But I won’t do it!”
“You will do your male duty, and assist me with the birthing process,” demanded Queen Rainbow. “The experts all agree that bonding is an important beginning to raising a loving and lasting family. Get up here, or I will kill you!”
“So this is what it has come down to?” asked the Emperor, digging in. “If I had known taking an Americanized Queen would subject the Royal Household to such bizarre human pestilence customs, to include making a spectacle of the intimate act of laying eggs, I would have considered other options.”
“Other options?” fumed Queen Rainbow, looking for something to throw. “I’ll show you other options!” “I will call a servant to assist.” “You will do your duty to me!” “What is the point of being the Emperor of a vast galactic empire if I cannot delegate simple tasks?” asked the Emperor. “I am returning to the golf course.”
“Golf is nothing but a glorified lawn game, and a waste of time. You suck at it anyway!” “Golf is like sex. You do not have to be good at it to have fun.” “Typical male attitude,” scoffed Queen Rainbow. “I should have killed you on our honeymoon.” “I am leaving. Important matters of state demand my attention.” “You caused my condition, and you damn well will assist me in my time of need!” “No! Not now, not ever! Never will I involve myself in such a messy affair! No male should be subjected to all the gory details of birthing. I do not care what nonsense you have been reading in those human pestilence trash magazines, or watching on their Satellite TV reruns.”
“Fine!” announced Queen Rainbow, turning her back to His Majesty. “I no longer want you here anyway!” “Good. I am leaving.” Silence. “Did you hear me? I am leaving. I am doing it now!” Silence. “Do not try to stop me. Nothing you say or do will cause me to change my mind!” More silence. Much more silence. The silence was getting louder. The Emperor sighed angrily. Her tactics are so unfair.
“I am returning to my golf game. I expect you to finish this birth business, and have this mess cleaned up by the time I get back for dinner. Understand?”
Silence, followed by the throwing of a lamp at His Majesty. Not good. His Majesty would be sleeping in the Royal Doghouse tonight.
Ambassador Yamashita, listening from outside, dared to peek past the doorway. “I suggest you do your duty. There is no avoiding this.”
“I will not have your human pestilence customs forced upon me,” insisted the Emperor. “It is a matter of principle. For the good of the Empire, I draw a line in the sand here and now!”
“Buck it up,” advised the Yamashita, opening the door and barging in. He gave the Emperor a shove, then stepped back out the door.
The Emperor heard his Arthropodan marines chain and lock the door from the hallway. “It won’t be so bad!” Yamashita yelled.
“You traitors! I will have you all shot!” threatened the Emperor, pounding on the door. “That was an act of war, Yamashita! How dare you touch me!”
Resigned to his fate, the Emperor turned to face his Queen. I have faced the enemy in combat. How hard can this be? he told himself. The Emperor climbed to the top of the mountain nest, and sat by Queen Rainbow. They held claws. She had a lovely red glow about her.
“I knew you would be here for me,” she gushed, giving him a light kiss.
“No problem,” replied the Emperor, weakly. “Anything for you, Snuggle-Lips.”
Queen Rainbow raised her rear. The moist membrane gave way, and slippery eggs popped out. The Emperor cradled the eggs as best he could into a nice neat pile, fifty in total! The egg grouping reminded His Majesty of table billiards, another human pestilence game he would rather be playing at this very moment.
Exhausted, Queen Rainbow let out a sigh. “It is done, sweetheart. I have given you ample heirs to the thrown. I have done my duty to Empire and husband.”
The Emperor kissed his Queen affectionately. Queen Rainbow drifted off to sleep, leaving His Majesty to sit on the many eggs.
###
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~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Walter Knight played football on Tucson High School’s last state championship team (1971). He served three years in the army, and the GI Bill paid for his college education, helping him earn degrees from Fort Steilacoom Community College, Central Washington State College, and the University of Puget Sound School of Law.
Walter lives a very quiet and private life, residing with his family and horses, dogs, cats, and fish atop a hill in rural Washington. Walt enjoys taking road trips to explore ghost towns and casinos.
To find out more about the author and his books, visit his web site:
www.waltknight.yolasite.com
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Cemetery City Page 12