Star

by Erin Lee

  Pulling my hamstring around the back of my neck, I slowly sink to the concrete floor of the biggest tent. Soon, the riggers will be here to tighten the wires I don’t need. They will come in a stumbling, loud-mouthed group more concerned with tonight’s after show poker games and who is dating who than anything. I will roll my eyes and try to ignore them. In truth, I won’t be able to get my ears off them. Their simple ways of moving about the planet are just, well, fascinating. At the same time, it’s not much different than it was back home in the kitchen at the diner near the third moon.

  Determined to make more of my time at the carnival than analyzing things, I move my light-speed thinking to the current problem at hand: Madame Leslie has zero intention of letting the Big Cats free and just yesterday announced more animals she plans on purchasing. I see no need for it. Maybe, if I could bring in more sales—be more interesting to the earthlings—she’d decide the animals weren’t worth it. If I could literally make my act show-stopping, it might make all the difference. Yes. That is what I will do. I may not even need to steal the show to change things.

  Star

  Chapter Four

  The tent lights burn my tender skin as earthlings stare at me, their mouths twisted in round circles. For the first time since joining the carnival, I don’t know what to do. If I had my PC chip, I might have some ability to do something to erase their memories of what they’ve just witnessed. Instead, I am just as helpless as them. Gone are the cheers and shouts, replaced with hushed, terrified whispers. Maybe I’ve gone too. Maybe flying through the crowd at the speed of sound wasn’t the right thing to do. But they’ve come for a show. It’s not like they can’t write it off to some sort of gravity-friendly mechanical operation. Surely, they can’t know. Human beings are too simple to comprehend the intergalactic merging of galaxies, aren’t they?

  I pull at my ridiculous Leslie-approved glittery unitard. In this moment, I wish I could be Albert Blender. I wish they would stop staring at me. I cover my ears—all four—to tune out the indefinite silence, waiting for Worm to turn down the lights.

  Finally, as if he knows the show can’t go on, he does. It is in darkness where the noise finally returns. I try to tune it out. I try not to think about the human beings and what they think of me. It doesn’t matter. But my efforts are fruitless. In seconds, no, milliseconds, it begins – the clicking of the cameras. Flashes of bright light burn my eyes as personal electronic devices not so unlike my own from the mother ship go off hundreds at a time.

  That’s when the magic happens: The crowd becomes a sea of twinkling lights. All I can see is stars. Finally, and for the first time since landing on Earth, I am home.

  Star

  Chapter Five

  It’s strange that human people underestimate me. It’s not exactly my first rodeo or circus either. I mean, I’ve come from a whole other galaxy filled with freaks that would most certainly steal the show. Yet, they do. And sometimes, I think about filling them in fully on my secret. I wonder what they would do if they knew...

  They’d probably hate me for it. People don’t like people who are different, no matter how much they say they do. It doesn’t matter if the biggest freaks are the highest paid. It’s only because we bring in the money. If they knew, they’d be envious. My ability to fly is no illusion. There are no wires or suspension rods. I will not fall. It’s not possible.

  If she knew. Wow. Goddess knows what Madame Leslie would do. No. Don’t think like that. Wait for Es. Leslie’s wrong about you. You aren’t replaceable. She just doesn’t know it. Just wait. Earthlings are too unpredictable.

  I make my way to Esmeralda’s trailer convinced that she’ll know what to do. With her psychic powers, I’ve heard she gives the best advice this side of the travelling show. Frank—the guy I met when I first hit planet Earth—misses me. He wants me back. Leslie is wrong. He didn’t dump me. It just got complicated. It happens with interspecies dating.

  I need to figure out what to do and soon. I could stay. I mean, sure. The circus life is perfect for a freak like me. But if I go and return to Escape to be with Frank, what will happen to the animals? I can’t exactly leave the show with Leslie. Goddess knows what she’ll do without my nagging. But Frank. Well, he’s just so cute. I mean, for a human.

  One hour later

  ES PUTS THE CARDS DOWN on the mosaic table in the center of her tiny living room. “Are you going to listen to me? I mean really listen? Because most of you don’t. You just come here for advice to ignore it. Can you listen, Neptune?”

  “Of course.” I squeeze my eyes shut and will my hearing devices to stick with it. Lately, they’ve been getting worse and worse because of gravity. Human beings have no concept of just how far they are behind with technology.

  “I know, of course, that you aren’t of this Earth. You’re okay with that right?”

  How the Sector 666 does she know? “Well, yes. I mean, I guess.” I reach up to my head to be sure my hair is covering my extra ears. Just fly with it. She knows and hasn’t hurt you yet. Besides, nothing says she’s of this world either. I mean, it’s the circus... “I was wondering about that too. I mean, should I just come out? Should I tell everyone where I come from and how I got here?” I cannot imagine the earthlings’ reaction to learning about my life as a moon maid in a diner in a galaxy far, far away. It sounds too much like a bad movie.

  “Every woman has a right to her secrets, dear. Besides, the circus is a place for the magical. I would not do that if I were you, but it’s entirely your decision. Your secret is safe with me. Don’t worry about that.”

  “Thank you. I guess I just feel like a fraud if no one knows and with things getting more serious with Frank. Well, I don’t know. I just think maybe it’s time to let everyone know.”

  “Frank. Forget about the rest of it. Never mind the circus. He’s what I want to talk to you about. Do you know about soulmates, dear? Do they have such a thing on your planet?”

  I nod, missing my parents and sisters. Hell, even missing Jizz and Little Anus.

  “Frank is yours. To him, you must go.”

  “But how do you know?”

  “How did I know you weren’t of this planet? I just do. I have secrets too.” She winks, continuing, “It would be a shame for you to give that up. The universe is intentional. Everything is. Do you think you landed here by no course of destiny? I think not.”

  “I’m here for Frank? But I thought it was to save the animals. I can’t leave the show and just leave things in Leslie’s hands, can I?”

  “This is what you don’t know. Leslie won’t be here long and the show will go on. Trust the destiny. The Blenders have things to do.”

  “But it’s my job to save the animals. I mean, to be honest, I was planning to steal the show and set them free. And Leslie? Geesh. Don’t get me started on her. Today, I saw her stealing food. From a kid! Cotton candy! Imagine that.” I don’t bother to respond to her comment about the Blender family. I don’t want to know about that. The circus is complicated enough without trying to get to the bottom of the secrets that lie behind the token invisible family.

  “I don’t have to. I’ve seen it. But don’t worry about Leslie. I promise you: All in good time. Trust me. Let the Blenders handle it. Meantime, go to Frank.”

  My heart pounds so hard in my chest I’m sure my friends and family on the mothership can hear it. I wish I could talk to them too. I want to put my trust in Es. She hasn’t steered me wrong before, but this is really the first time I’ve gone to her for serious advice. And this seems bigger than even the fate of the travelling show: Soulmates. Destiny. Forever.

  “Okay. I’ll think about it. That’s what the cards told you?”

  “Not just the cards, love. They, like the circus, are only an illusion... But you? I’ve seen you...”

  Star

  Chapter Six

  Six months earlier

  It wasn’t every day that I ran across a pair of horned-out earthling idiots asking for direct
ions to Sector 315a. But it happened from time to time and somehow, it ultimately made me famous on the circus stage and brought me into the arms of the love of my life. It’s true. They—the freaks who started it all—walked straight into my floating restaurant; the only one of any objective quality anchored to planet Volusia. They asked for instructions and two slices each of galaxy pie. They wanted a whole lot more than that, of course, like all human men did. I wasn’t biting, which was probably the first move that changed the cosmos’ will.

  Off the well-flown path, the diner sat at the very edge of our planet; far off from the imaginary place these douchebags were headed for a cheap shot at stranger, three-holed alien pussy. Searching for an open booth, they bitched about my home planet’s kiosks and moaned about the amphibians who ran them. They spoke too loud for my ears and made no bones about why they’d come to the planet known for its “fierce and easy pick-your-hole alien women.”

  Humans, of course, are rude. It never occurred to them that they were the aliens here. It’s not often that it does with earthlings. On sight, I disliked them. I couldn’t help it. A woman just knows sometimes. These two were trouble: Too eager. Too sweaty. Too – something or other. I knew nothing, of course, at the time of how these two earthlings would change the sequence of our infinite destinies.

  I did know one thing, though. Nothing good ever came from trusting a human. I learned that lesson long before being promoted as the head server at Volusia Eatery: Where Cheap Eats are Hip-Hug Free. Hell, I memorized it the first time an earthling encouraged me to put tiny balls into my ears and blasted all four of them out with a female earthling screaming ‘ready to rock?’ No! Ladies don’t rock. For fuck’s sake.

  Whatever. Who needs hearing anyway? Apparently not two-legged ape earthling descendants whose IQs can be measured without computer chips. Stupid humans. They are dumb. Abrasive. Rude. Ancient. Simpletons with no capacity for artificial intelligence. Literally delayed. Not even of this universe. Fuckers. ...They better pay.

  Since then, my hearing hasn’t been quite the same. I may as well be deaf and probably am legally, according to the Volusia Code of Disability Rights. But with their loud-mouthed human ways, even without my ear microphones, I could follow just about everything these two scummy earthling players said. We ‘aliens’ know a lot: Humans aren’t exactly quiet and use their lips too much to speak. Humans are never discrete. In fact, they’re incredibly bad-mannered. Especially the ones who call themselves American. These two rejects that just stumbled in? I’d imagine they were British based on the fact that they thought themselves ‘posh.’ Either place is gross. I mean, what’s worse? Pompous asses with a legacy of crazy leaders dipped in paint the color of Halloween or earthlings who use the word ‘blimey?’ You tell me. As far as I can see, they all suck. I’d rather die than let that kind of creature ever touch me.

  I watched them stumble around the entrance of the eatery seething. I wish they’d change their minds and go away. I couldn’t be that lucky. Luck isn’t a thing for me. It’s getting worse than ever. Lately, the tourists are just getting to me. If you don’t come from Volusia and understand how we work, then please just leave. It wasn’t all their fault, of course. Little Anus and his ridiculous mother were who were really bothering me. And they weren’t even human.

  “Babes here are hot, but damn. No good eats. No wonder their thighs don’t meet in the middle. I’m starving,” the fat blonde one, with the pointy noise and long hair that sprang out like he just fought gravity and gravity won, announced. He turned to his friend, whose hair was even worse – like it got caught in the dryer and the lint just, well, stuck. “And you’re payin’. Don’t care how cheap you think this planet is. I’ve seen cheaper. Say, Almania’s Twin Moon. That place was cheap as shit if you didn’t count the penicillin for fixing up the scabs after taking them back to the mother ship. Still, Remus, hookers don’t come free. Shit, dude. Not even on Venus. Next time you convince me to go on a pull, remind me to bring my Saturn Express. Ain’t gonna have enough left for pussy if we keep it going at this rate.”

  Goddess, fuck! Do they ever stop speaking? Do they just like listening to themselves talk? Didn’t they come here to eat? They’ll be lucky if Jizz doesn’t fuck with their food. I’m not stopping him either...

  I watched the earthling as he pushed his jello belly, contrived most certainly only of human gluttony, past the titanium table in a booth made for our bigger diners and almost always of the Earth variety. The excess of earthlings never failed to amaze me. At least they might be good for a tip, I decided as I sashayed closer to them and past the automatic caffeine dispenser.

  That’s when it happened. Fatty Stinks-Like-Poop plopped down, causing the entire floating restaurant to jump. In a quick move, I dove for the automatic dispenser, catching it in mid-flight. I ignored the earthling assholes as they laughed and whistled at me. That’s alright. Karma’s a bitch. Good luck finding that sector-of-doesn’t-exist.

  I could have told them Sector 315a was the ass end of a bad money-making joke six planets over. I could have mentioned it was merely a scam operation run out of a freaking black hole. In fact, when I heard Venus Fly Trap Head mention it between his snickers and hollers for “the little lady who needs help,” I knew instantly what was going on. They weren’t the first and they wouldn’t be the last. It’s just the way things were. I might have informed them that they’d been duped by SpaceConnections, a popular dating site for the unusually desperate and sadly unlaid. But I didn’t. I’m not sure why either. I was just over it. Aggravated. Space sick. Female. Tired. Worried about the lawsuit. Desperate to figure out what to do about Little Anus.

  It wasn’t just that – I had my own problems on a planet known for its hot women and the unspoken rule that it was okay to ogle them. It might have been that the bigger one, who went by Casius and smelt like rotten eggs and interstellar canine shit, didn’t plan to leave a tip. Maybe it was that his overall mass was too large for me to calculate and I didn’t enjoy feeling stupid. Or it could have been that on that particular day, in the year 3069 on the third plane in the fifth universe, I just wasn’t in the mood for two more ungrateful customers staring at my tits like they’d never seen three knockers before. At my age, what earthlings would call 1,803 years but technically mid-twenties on their plane, you don’t have a lot of patience for men too selfish to pay the full tab and use alien lib as an excuse not to treat a lady right. That was Space High School. Frankly, it made me mad. I’d seen their kind too many times before. It’s not like we were still in 2018. I mean, please. It was freaking almost 3070! Use your fucking PC chip – PLEASE!

  At the end of the universe, it doesn’t really matter why I sent them on their way. No one will bother to ask why I told them to take a left through the wrong galaxy and what made me smile like I had any interest at all in either one of them or their shit-smelling breath. The answer was simple – because I could. Because it was fun. That’s all that really matters. In that one moment, I was powerful like the milky way or the sun during a full eclipse – set up to destroy ungrateful earthlings who stared at us like aliens and not in a good way. I didn’t feel guilty about it. Guys chasing chicks with names like BigTitsWarbler and InsertItInMyWormhole deserved what they got. Frankly, it’s cosmic justice. Sorry, not sorry. Sometimes, you have to be an asshole to make a point. That day was one of those – where a fact just needed to be addressed: Men are pigs. And I was tired of being the bacon. #MeToo.

  What occurred that day happened for a reason or twelve infinities more. That much I was sure of. The Galaxy Goddess knew what she was doing too. I don’t know why I ever doubted her. Perhaps, it was that whole thing about her having a uterus. Like it or not, GG could be moody. She never did take kindly to human beings who prayed to a god with a penis. Mars and Venus? Maybe so. That’s of no consequence either. What happened on the day Gaseous Casius and Rim Job Remus walked into my restaurant was nothing short of shooting stars on the darkest of nights under the Maidran Moon. It was
fireworks of the kind campfire stories are built upon. For years, until the year 4000 at the very least, it will be told over and over again. I was sure of it and could see my name in the lights. Me, Miss. Neptune Star, born to shine. Poster child for women’s rights. Who would have known? All thanks to Casius and Remus. But that’s not exactly how things started...

  THERE WAS NO way I was taking their order until they stopped their obnoxious drunken on circa 50.9 Moonshine hooting and hollering. If I didn’t need to pay off my personal rocket convertor by next Thursday, I’d have told Luna Ray to take the order herself. But saying no and causing issues with my six-armed, cranky boss just wasn’t an option. Rumor had it that her man, two-headed Big Anus, had been cheating on her with a one armed midget who looked like she was straight out of an Earth carnival. Instead, I went out back, behind the kitchen and past needy Jizz, the dishwasher, for a quick walk to get my rage out.

  When I returned, and after asking the two stank earthlings if they’d made up their minds (they had not), I returned to the counter and pretended to look busy washing it off. I couldn’t stop looking at my Galaxy Nine Personal Service Watch, v. 242.0. At some point, the hands might move, I told myself. If I stared at it long enough either one of two things would happen: Work would be over. Or, I’d just go blind and be able to leave anyway with that excuse. Whatever got me away from the chlorine that stung my eyes and those horrible humans in the first booth was good enough for me. I sighed, noticing Luna eyeing me.

  Three months of her following me around and “training me” on how to “do it perfectly” got old way before the old bag ever learned to pronounce my name right. Is it really that hard? I’m named after a fucking planet for Goddess sake! Not everyone has six arms! Some of us only have two. Give me a freaking break. And no. Precious Little Anus is not that great. He’s an asshole. Just thinking of the way she says my name makes my head throb: Neeep-tune. Neeeepa-ton. Nappp-tine. Apparently, it was hard for her, who twisted it on her tongue until it came out sounding more like a curse word or time out for a child than anything. Call me cunt. Shit bag. Useless one. Afraid-of-humans. Coward. Resting Bitch Face. Shittiest Waitress in the galaxy. I don’t care. Little Miss ‘I hate your pancake-dicked son.’ Call me anything. Just leave me alone and take the order yourself. I. Am. Not. Going. Over. There.