by Kim Fox
I’m so hungry that a banana chicken pie actually sounds good right about now.
He just nods his massive head and walks past me, dragging the telephone pole-sized leg behind him. Yup. I’m going to stick with this blue Tarzan for a while.
I’m clearly not made for this planet and now I’m totally willing to show him my ta ta’s if he agrees to keep me alive.
He grunts something at me and then walks away into the forest. I don’t know what he said but I take it as an invitation and follow him past a thick tree with pink and orange leaves. The forest is so colorful with crazy hues of purple, pink, red, blue, and yellow. It looks like a paint store exploded in here.
I never realized how dull earth forests were with their boring greens and browns. Say what you want about this planet, but it gets an A plus for color.
I reach out to touch a gorgeous Caribbean blue flower the size of a dinner table but my alien guardian grabs my wrist just as I’m about to touch it.
“Ugatu,” he says, shaking his head. A whimper escapes my throat as he squeezes a little too hard with his vice-like fingers. He releases me at once and jerks his head back, looking horrified that he may have hurt me.
I cradle my burning wrist to my chest and glance at the flower.
“Ugatu,” he repeats, louder this time. He turns and keeps going with his shoulders tight and shaking his head, looking frustrated.
“Ugatu yourself,” I mumble as I follow him. I glance back over my shoulder at the flower and a creature that looks like a hairy spider with wings climbs out from between the petals.
“Ugatu, Avery, ugatu,” I whisper as a cold shiver snakes down my back. “Don’t touch anything.”
I quicken my step, trying to stay as close to the blue giant as possible. His long legs keep a quick pace and after a while of trying to keep up, I’m starting to fade fast. It’s been a stressful couple of days and I haven’t eaten a thing. My stomach is beyond hunger. It’s like it has just given up and ceased rumbling. Either that or it starved to death and the rest of my body is about to follow it along.
“Where are we going?” I whimper, my legs feeling like they’re full of lead. “Please tell me you’re taking me to a Holiday Inn. I’ll even settle for a Motel Six. Okay, a dirty bus stop. But can we please stop walking?”
He turns and frowns as he looks down at me. “Ratchata hurew?” he says.
“I don’t speak alien,” I answer with a frustrated shake of my head. “I speak English and about ten words of French. Bonjour. Avion. Chaises.”
He doesn’t seem to understand French either. I’m not surprised. French is hard as shit.
He’s still carrying that creature’s huge leg over his shoulder and I’m not sure if he plans on using it as a weapon, eating it for dinner, or planting it in the ground and using it as a flagpole.
“Ratchata hurew?” he asks again, looking down at me with a big blue furrowed brow.
“Boogalooga-moo,” I answer back with a nod. “Goobaloober woober. I told you, I don’t speak fucking alien!”
He just shakes his head and grunts. He turns and walks away, shaking his head and looking even more frustrated than before.
My heart stops when I realize I might have just ripped up my only ticket to survival and I race to catch up. “You misunderstood me,” I say, my voice racing. “You see in my planet Goobaloober woober is the highest compliment there is! It means that you look like a sexy blueberry.”
He points to a cliff that’s not too far away and I gasp. “Are you expecting me to climb that thing?”
“Cheecha pourten,” he says, not turning back.
“Who you calling a cheecha?” I mutter as I follow him.
We finally get there and he points to a cave. “Cheecha pourten.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I said Holiday Inn. I spoke to a nice guy named Greg on the phone. He upgraded me to an executive suite for free.”
“Cheecha pourten,” he repeats walking forward.
“Right,” I mutter. “Well, Cheecha pourten is going to get a bad review on Yelp from me.”
I follow him into the cave and sit down on a rock. We weren’t the first ones here. There’s a circle of rocks with ashes in the middle and some weird looking bones tossed to the side.
“No,” I shout as he heads for the exit. “Don’t go! I promise I won’t leave a bad review!”
He turns and looks at me curiously. “Nurtea,” he says and then disappears.
“Oh,” I mutter, nodding to myself. “Nurtea. Why didn’t you say so?” I just hope that nurtea is something that I can eat.
Now that I’m sitting, my stomach starts growling with a vengeance. I start thinking back to that buttery popcorn that I had in the theater and groan.
There’s a muted thump every few minutes as the meteors hurtling towards the planet smash into it. Thump. Thump. It sounds like the planet’s heartbeat.
Sexy Smurf comes back a few minutes later with a stack of logs in his arms and I take a breath of relief. He’s still a little bit scary but at least I know him. Now the unknown, that’s the really scary stuff. It’s starting to get dark out and I don’t even want to imagine what kind of nightmarish creatures come out at night on this hell hole of a planet. I’m just glad he’s back.
I watch his flexed back muscles ripple as he places the logs into a pile over some dried leaves. He cracks two rocks together a couple of times and the whole thing bursts into flames. He goes back outside and a loud snap rings out that makes me jump up.
He comes back in with a huge chunk of the leg. “Trunela,” he says, motioning to it.
It sounds like a French delicacy and I close my eyes imagining that I’m in Paris at a restaurant that I can’t possibly afford. When I open them he’s holding the leg over the fire, turning it slowly.
“Trunellea,” I repeat, trying to copy the weird sounds that he made. If I’m stuck on this planet I might as well learn the language.
“Trunela,” he corrects.
“Trunela,” I repeat and he nods with a smile on his face. It takes me back and my heart skips a beat. He can smile. He looks sexier with his whole ‘Me-Tarzan, You-Jane’ look but this is nice too. It’s comforting.
I tap my palm to my chest. “Avery,” I say slowly.
He drops the leg and reaches forward, putting a hand on my breast. “Avery,” he repeats, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Uhm, okay,” I say, taking his thick wrist and trying to pull it off. It’s like trying to move a fire hydrant. He gives my boob one more little squeeze and then lets go.
“Turic,” he says, pounding his chest with a fist. He reaches back and grabs my other breast. “Avery.”
“How about we stop grabbing breasts?” I say trying to pry his hand off of my chest. “We did just meet. I usually require at least two drinks before there’s any boob play.”
He picks up the trunela leg and continues cooking it. My mouth waters as the whole cave starts smelling like fresh lobster. I close my eyes and think back to summer vacations in Maine. Goddamn, that smells good!
After a few minutes, he cracks open the hard shell of the leg and hands me a chunk of white meat the size of a watermelon. It’s greasy and flaky and smells fucking delicious.
“If you have a bowl of butter over there, I’ll give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had,” I say. He tilts his head as he stares at me with confusion on his rugged face.
“Never mind,” I mutter before biting into it. Oh. My. God. This bite is almost worth the alien abduction, the T-Rex chase, and every other shitty thing that has happened in the past few days. I’m in heaven.
Turic watches proudly as I devour it faster than a puppy eating at dinner time. My stomach is hurting but I snatch another piece out of his hands when he offers it. This trunela thing tastes better than lobster.
Free all you can eat lobster and I don’t even have to put out after. Well, hopefully not.
I take another bite, thankful that I’m eating him and he’s not
eating me, which was his initial plan before Warrior Smurf over here stuck a knife in his brain.
“So, Turic,” I say, leaning back and holding my stomach, which feels like it’s about to explode. “What do you do for fun when you’re not slaying trunelas?”
“Trunela,” he says, offering me another piece.
I shake my head. “Have you seen the new Iron Man movie?”
He tilts his head as he breaks off another piece. And I thought I ate a lot.
“Do you have a wife? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”
He seems to have given up on trying to communicate and he just keeps eating. It dawns on me that he’s done all of the work and I’ve done nothing but take, take, take. I haven’t been the best companion.
“Here,” I say reaching for the trunela leg. “Have some mor-FUCK!”
I whip my hand back, clutching it to my chest. There’s a fucking spike sticking out of my finger. The blood starts oozing out and I close my eyes trying to focus on my breathing so that I don’t pass out.
Turic is by my side at once, gently holding my hand and inspecting my trunela splinter. I’ve never been good with blood and I’m already starting to get woozy.
“No!” I yell as he darts out of the cave leaving me all alone. I told you I wasn’t the best companion. Either that or blood makes him just as squeamish as it makes me.
He comes running back in with a huge red leaf. He snaps the thick stalk in half and squeezes out some clear gel onto his finger. He’s at my side at once. I close my eyes as he gently pulls out the spike and I hold my breath waiting for more pain, but shockingly, it’s all gone.
I open my eyes and he’s gently rubbing the gel on my cut. The bleeding stops and so does the pain. Big red leaf equals magical medicine. I have to remember that.
Everything is so foreign. So alien.
It finally hits me that I’m a long way from earth with absolutely no way to get back. When the tears come they come hard and before I know it I’m sobbing uncontrollably into a big blue chest.
Turic wraps his huge heavy arms around me as the sobs keep coming, each one more devastating than the last. I nuzzle my cheek onto his chest and just let them come.
seven
The mighty Turic holds his frail little Sandroka in his arms while she cries. She is so weak and frail. It just makes Turic want to protect her more.
The red leaf of the juju plant is lying on the floor of the cave. Turic doesn’t understand. The sweet nectar inside should have made the pain go away. So, why is she still crying?
Maybe it doesn’t work on her soft pink skin. Or maybe since she is so frail she needs more. Turic reaches for it but she shakes her head, speaking her funny language again.
“It’s not my finger,” she says. “It’s everything else.”
Turic doesn’t know what she says so he just holds her tight while she cries. She seems to like that. Still, Turic would like to make the pain in her finger go away.
It feels nice, holding her like this. Turic’s soum thumps inside his mighty chest and it feels good. So, it confuses Turic why she hasn’t wanted to complete the mating ritual and get Turic’s baby inside her womb. Turic tried to take off her peculiar animal skins but she was not happy. Maybe she doesn’t have a culip after all.
She wipes her eyes and begins talking her gibberish once again. “I’m okay,” she says as she wipes her eyes. “I just needed to get that out. It’s been a tough day.”
Turic holds up more meat of the trunela but she pushes his hand back down. Turic doesn’t know what she wants and it’s making him tense. The mighty Turic wants to please her in every way possible but he doesn’t understand what she wants.
“I have to use the ladies’ room,” she says as she gets up. Turic just stares, not understanding anything. “Can I pee in the corner here?”
She walks to the back of the cave and Turic gasps as he sees the celestial marking on her back. The prophecy. It’s true. It’s her!
“Saku!” Turic says, jumping up. She’s the chosen one from the prophecy. She’s the Saku!
“Whoa! Easy, big boy!”
The mighty Turic’s soum is hammering like a mandashee. He’s too excited to think straight. He must bring her to the tribe. He must bring the Saku to Loupin. Loupin is the village Shaman. He’ll know what to do.
Turic leaps across the fire and rushes forward to get a better look. This pink Sandroka is the chosen one. Turic cannot believe it.
She lurches back with panic on her beautiful and weak pink face. “Let’s calm down,” she says with her hands in the air.
“Gratatooe zasert,” Turic says back. Can I see it?
“I’m taking a piss not getting ready to fuck you!” she says.
Why is Turic’s Saku so upset?
“Gratatooe Turic zasert kaleem.” Can Turic see the marking?
Turic approaches slowly as to not alarm her. She is clearly protective of her marking. It has great power.
“Gratatooe yourself,” she says, grabbing one of the small bones off of the ground.
“Utea, werfsan Turic kalumin pilert faswed,” Turic says softly to her. Yes, Turic also hates it when the Drandroka don’t clean up.
She thrusts the bone of the boomercan at Turic like a weapon and his belly shakes with laughter. Does she really think a small bone can pierce Turic’s mighty skin?
“Keep laughing fucker,” she screams, waving it around like a drunken satu. “I’ll shove this right up your dick hole!”
Turic catches her wrist and spins his beautiful Saku around. She’s as feisty as a wicker but as weak as a granu. Turic leans down and gasps as he stares at the marking. It’s magical and his eyes start to water with the beauty of it. The Drandroka have waited for generations to see the marking of the Saku and Turic found it. They’ll be telling stories of Turic around the fire for many moons. There will be a star named Turic when he passes to the Land of the Nevatrun.
“Oh that,” she says with a cute laugh as Turic stares at her wondrous marking. “That’s called a tramp stamp. I thought it was a good idea at the time when I was nineteen-years-old and hammered at spring break. The guy’s name who did it was Cliff. He smelled like whiskey.”
The mighty Turic doesn’t know what his gorgeous Saku is saying but the beauty of the moment is making water leak out of his eyes.
“Wait,” she says as she looks at Turic’s face. “Are you crying? Is it that ugly? I was thinking of having it removed but I think that’s out of the question now.”
Turic takes one last look at the enchanted marking, running his fingers over the extraordinary curved lines while his Saku sings her magical language.
Soon…it will all be over.
The dinosaurs and beasts of Zandipor have been plaguing the Roka forever. But now that the Saku is here, it will all be over! Turic feels foolish for killing the trunela earlier. She could have killed it easily.
“Calm down,” she says. “What’s gotten you all excited? You’re freaking me out. Haven’t you ever seen a faded old tramp stamp before?”
Turic doesn’t understand her words but they’re music to his ears. Turic is so happy that he can’t stand still.
“Whoa. Easy.”
She is truly the one.
“Relax, Spazzy Smurf.”
It is her.
The Saku.
The one to kill all of the dinosaurs.
eight
I dart up to a sitting position the second I wake up. I guess the days of rolling over and slamming my palm onto my alarm clock are done.
Well, it was fun while it lasted. I’m sure waking up on full deathly alert will be fun too.
Turic is still sleeping. His huge chest rises and falls with every deep breath that he takes. It’s nice to see him so calm. He was starting to make me nervous last night the way he was jumping around like a kid who just snorted six lines of sugar.
I find it impossible to believe that it was my ugly old tramp stamp that got him going last night but the proof is in the
blue pudding. He couldn’t stop staring and touching it. For once I don’t regret getting the hideous thing. Thanks, drunken Cliff!
He slowly stirs and grumbles as he wakes up. The fire went out during the night but the sun, or whatever the fuck is lighting this planet up, is back.
And so is the rumbling in my stomach. I don’t suppose that he has a fridge out there that he stuck the leftover trunela in. Hopefully, he has a few more tricks up his loincloth.
He wakes up with a smile on his blue face, and it brings a smile to mine. He looks so cute all cuddled up like that. It’s a big change from the blue Rambo that I saw yesterday and it’s nice to see that he has a softer side.
He gets up slowly, wiping his gorgeous turquoise eyes with his meaty fist and lets out a big yawn. It’s the first time I see inside his mouth. No fangs for eating annoying little earthling girls. His white teeth almost look human, except of course that they’re bigger and look much stronger.
“There wouldn’t happen to be a Pancake House around here, would there?” I ask. I could really use a stack of pancakes with extra maple syrup. And of course, coffee. My insides seize up when I realize that I may have to go without coffee for the rest of my life.
Never seeing another human I can live with. But no coffee? Oh, hell no.
He answers in his alien grumblings.
“Great,” I answer, nodding. “In that case, I’ll take six pancakes, a bowl of fruit, and an extra large coffee.”
“Gewatlou kassem?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Coffee.” I say it slower because he seems to have missed it. “Cough-eeeeee.”
“Cofe?” he answers, tilting his head.
“Yes!” I say jumping up like I just won the lottery. “Coffee. Now go get some.”
“Cofe?” He reaches over and grabs the dead snake-like thing with the squished head. He holds it up and looks at me with wide eyes. “Cofe?”
Ugh. “Is there another blue guy around who speaks English?”
