Happy Snak

by Nicole Kimberling

  “You want to change the markings on my face?”

  “Not forever.” Alcohol consumption made it easier for Gaia to ignore that this whole enterprise might be insulting or even culturally wrong. “Humans do it all the time. You can do me next.”

  Wave glanced warily around the room. “Okay. Are you going to make me symmetrical?”

  “Yeah! And I’m going to paint eyebrows on you.”

  “The weird little hairs on you forehead?” Wave asked.

  “Right.”

  “And I will erase yours for a smooth appearance,” Wave proclaimed.

  It didn’t take Gaia long. She used the white to carve out lines in the black spot over Wave’s eye and the black to create the mirror image on the white side of Wave’s face. She then added swooping eyebrow shapes and drew long thin arcing lines down to Wave’s jawline. She ended up with a butterfly-shaped pattern that looked Halloweeny, but was symmetrical. Wave inspected its face in awe.

  “So even!”

  “You look like a rock star,” Gaia said.

  “Now my turn.” Wave seized the eye shadow and painted Gaia’s entire face white. Then, with the thinnest setting on the eyeliner, Wave drew tiny, swirling lines on her cheeks and forehead. The lines were perfectly symmetrical. Wave was cautious while drawing. When Wave finished, Gaia looked like she was wearing an ancient ceremonial mask.

  “This is amazing.” Gaia seized her hand-held and scooted close to Wave. She took a picture of them together, then one of Wave alone. They admired one another and their own handiwork for a while, exchanging compliments. Then Wave sighed.

  “This is very bad, indeed, but it is a secret badness. I yearn to be irritating to others.”

  “Is that what you used to do with Kenjan?” Gaia asked. Wave snorted, then thrummed loudly. Gaia inferred that this was a laugh-equivalent.

  “We mischievously committed many very bad acts of disrespect.”

  “Like what?”

  “Such irritating things,” Wave said. “We annoyed people all the time. One time we went to a bridge and played music on banjos and sang songs of protest.”

  “You play banjo?”

  “Not very well. Ineptly played, the banjo is a most distracting instrument. Kenjan wanted to use the banjo because it was the instrument of human-style protest songs. We sang songs about how I could learn in front of where the soldiers were quartered. I thought soldiers would be easy to convince since they are egotistical anyway.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Maybe.” Wave leaned conspiratorially toward her. “The guard you named Stinger knows the ‘Learning Song’. I heard Stinger singing it one day.” Wave leaned back, contemplated the ceiling then lurched toward Gaia. “Oh please, please can we do something? We could bother your superiors just a little… Wait, I know! You are not afraid of talking to the ghost at all, are you?”

  “Kenjan?” Gaia asked. Wave nodded. “Not at all. Are you?”

  “Certainly, but I have grown courageous with orange. So since neither of us fears the ghost, we should sneak into the shrine and startle it.”

  “I don’t know, Kenjan’s already downhearted.”

  Wave suddenly hunched down and moved close enough for Gaia to smell its scent. Wave smelled sharply acidic, like lemons… Or maybe it was the lemon-scented floor cleaner they’d used to degrease the floor. Gaia couldn’t tell. She took a fat gulp of her beer. “Pranks will cheer the ghost. Come now.”

  Gaia had her reservations, but she also really wanted to do something slightly naughty. It had been a long time since she’d stepped outside the social structure of her work persona. Dimly, old memories swam up through her slightly drunken consciousness. She’d been fun once, before she owned a business. Her fun had somehow been misplaced in the struggle to keep the snack bar out of critical condition. But Happy Snak was clean. All the machines had been put to sleep. Kenjan had been fed earlier, by two shy servant-class Kishocha. It was just past midnight and fun sounded feasible.

  The two of them crept back through the kitchen and Gaia’s bedroom, each clutching a bottle—Gaia had paused to get a fresh cold beer.

  The shrine door dilated. Wave poked its muzzle through the opening, blearily glancing from side to side.

  “Kenjan is beneath the waters.” Wave had to pause at this point to collapse in a little anticipatory snorting fit before continuing onward. This caused a domino effect of giggling in Gaia. After they’d both composed themselves, Wave straightened up. “We will startle Kenjan now. Gaia, you make splashing noises on the water to attract the ghost. Loud splashing, like terrifying eels breaching the surface.”

  Gaia slapped her hands brutally down into the water. Massive slapping sounds echoed all around the chamber. She and Wave both jumped at the noise, then renewed their peals of snorting and laughter. Gaia glimpsed Kenjan charging up from the depths and sudden terror surged through her. Was this trick really a good idea?

  Kenjan’s head broke the water. Suddenly a massively deep voice boomed through the chamber. “Kaijamfutan!” The voice throbbed through Gaia like a base drum. It filled her ears completely. A little yip escaped her before she realized the speaker was Wave.

  “It is your time of exorcism, Kaijamfutan!” Wave bellowed in this deep reverberating tone.

  Kenjan’s cranial tendrils stood straight on end. Its eyes were huge violet circles. Kenjan looked like a shocked cartoon character. Gaia screamed with laughter.

  “PREPARE—!” The thunderous voice broke down to a series of snorting, thrums and grunts. Wave collapsed to its knees on the shrine floor. “…for judgment…”

  Kenjan stayed staring at them for a long time. It cocked its head and seemed to finally recognize them. Its cranial tendrils relaxed back into their usual coils. Its eyes narrowed to slits as it swam to the edge of its pool. Gaia’s stomach went stony cold. She stopped laughing. She hadn’t thought of what Kenjan would think of the face paint. Wave didn’t seem to remember that it didn’t look the same. The Kishocha held its abdomen snuffling like a winded bulldog.

  Kenjan rested its elbows on the edge of the pool and regarded Wave. “You are a bad, bad little fishy.”

  Wave rolled over onto its side, breathing hard. “You should have seen your cranial tendrils, lovely Kenjan.” Wave uncurled its body and lay flat on its stomach, its muzzle even with Kenjan’s.

  Kenjan’s face relaxed into the smile expression. It wasn’t a smile, really, but it conveyed the same warmth.

  “What perverse thing have the two of you done to your muzzles?” Kenjan seemed simultaneously repulsed and admiring.

  “It’s just face paint.” Gaia relaxed. “It washes off.”

  “It is amazing.” Kenjan leaned close to Wave. “You look so different… Strange patterns though.”

  “Gaia painted me. I put the markings of the Molten Worm Clan on her. Did you recognize?”

  “I did,” Kenjan said. “They look so alien on a human. What do the orange streaks represent?”

  Both Wave and Gaia snorted at this question.

  “I see,” Kenjan said. “You have been guzzling orange and reaching an effervescent state.”

  Wave nodded. “And Gaia has been drinking dehydrating beer!”

  “Both of you look funny,” Kenjan said.

  “Not as funny as you looked with your cranial tendrils all stiff,” Gaia said.

  “Yes. I did Seigata’s voice too well!” Wave stuck its tongue out at Kenjan. Wave’s tongue was very long, and slithered out of Wave’s muzzle for about eight inches before it flopped onto the shrine floor like a brilliant orange slug.

  Kenjan began to snort and Gaia to giggle.

  “So that was Seigata’s voice?” She seated herself next to Wave. The alien’s tongue retracted into its muzzle.

  “Yes,” Wave said in a rolling, deep voice. “I am Seigata. I always keep all my clams to myself. No clams for beggars. Sharkey, go poke that beggar, Wave, with a sharp pole and drive it away!”

  “That’s a great im
pression,” Gaia said.

  “Wave can duplicate many voices, even human.” Kenjan’s voice betrayed a good amount of pride in Wave’s talent. “Even that of Oziru.”

  “Can you do Fitzpatrick?” she asked.

  Wave paused a moment, thinking. “As a matter of fact, Ms. Jones, I can.”

  “Oh my God!” Gaia gasped.

  “Oh my God!” Wave mimicked her.

  Gaia leapt to her feet. “Just wait right there.” She rushed into her room then returned with her hand-held, a notepad and pen, and another beer.

  “What new mischief is transpiring, oh my guardian?” Kenjan craned its neck forward.

  “Something very irritating to others,” Gaia said. “You’ll love it, Wave.”

  “Another irritating thing?” Wave rolled over closer to her. “What a night this is.”

  Gaia twisted the cap off her beer and wrote a note. She pushed it to Wave then gripped her hand-held, her thumb hovered above the “phone” button. “I’ll dial and when the Superstore answers just read the note in Fitzpatrick’s voice.”

  Wave read over the note. “I don’t know how to say this word.”

  “Champagne.”

  “Okay.” Wave gave her the thumbs-up. “All ready to dive.”

  Gaia pushed the “dial” icon. A tired-sounding clerk from the Superstore picked up.

  “Hello, this is the A-Ki Station Superstore, your one-stop twenty-four-hour shopping center. Please take advantage of our two-for-one special on Roast Beef Dinner tonight. This is Jenny, how may I serve you?”

  Wave hesitated, unsure whether it was supposed to speak. Gaia nudged the alien.

  “Hello,” Wave began in Fitzpatrick’s voice. “I need to place an order for myself and my lady friend.”

  “Okay.” Jenny sounded bored. Gaia felt a guilty pang for bothering the clerk, but for the purposes of the prank, it was necessary.

  “We’d like two bottles of champagne, a can of whipping cream, a four pack of Pirate ‘Feelies’ condoms, two ham sandwiches and a coke.”

  Jenny repeated the order back to them, putting extra emphasis on the words “Feelies” and, inexplicably, “ham”. Gaia giggled.

  “That’s right,” Wave said.

  “And you want those sandwiches light mayo, no veggies with havarti?”

  Wave looked at Gaia quizzically. Gaia nodded. They must have Fitzpatrick’s sandwich order memorized.

  “Yes, no veggies, please,” Wave said.

  “Do you want this delivered to Ms. Jones’ residence?” Jenny asked.

  “Ms. Jones?” Wave desperately ad-libbed. “Who is Ms. Jones?”

  “The person whose hand-held you’re calling from,” Jenny replied. “She’s probably that woman laughing in the background. Take a look and see.”

  “I am not calling from Ms. Jones’ habitation. I am Mr. Fitzpatrick and I need ham now!” Wave used an extra forceful tone, which would have withered a Kishocha servant. Jenny was unimpressed.

  “Who is this really?”

  “Send ham to me now, lowly servant worm!” Wave shouted into the microphone. Gaia collapsed into giggles. Tears filled her eyes. Her sides ached. Wave continued thunderously, “It is an order from me, Exalted Fitzpatrick.”

  “Whatever, Ham-Boy.” Jenny of the Superstore disconnected.

  A few seconds later the reader had an incoming call from Corps Security.

  “Don’t answer it,” Gaia said, though no one had made a move to do so.

  “Neither of us would presume to touch your belongings,” Kenjan said calmly. “But why does the idea strike now?”

  “It’s just the Corps Security trying to rat us out for crank calling,” Gaia said. “Ha! They won’t get me so easily. My answering service will take care of them.”

  They waited while Gaia’s answering service picked up and Lieutenant Singh left a scathing message for the individual making calls from Gaia Jones’ hand-held, then disconnected. Once the voice of authority was gone from the room, Gaia started chuckling again.

  “I can’t believe you told them to send ham now.”

  “I could not think of what to say,” Wave protested. “What would you have said?”

  “I don’t know.” Gaia wiped away a tear. “It wouldn’t have been as funny, though.”

  Kenjan tapped its finger on the edge of the pool. “What was the point of that?”

  Gaia shrugged. “I just wanted to see if we could have that stuff delivered to Fitzpatrick.”

  “Why?” Kenjan asked. “Is ham a very embarrassing item?”

  “No,” Gaia said.

  “We just wanted to be bad,” Wave proclaimed. “And we wanted to annoy our betters, for in annoying our betters we revenge ourselves for our betters annoying us. Do we want to get up and groom the octopi? No. No, we do not. It is very annoying. And yet we must do the hateful deed.”

  “Go, Wave.” Gaia thrust a fist into the air.

  Kenjan pulled back slightly. “I had no idea grooming octopi annoyed you so much.”

  “How could it not?” Wave demanded. “They grasp. They bite with their beaks. They squirt the muzzle-stinging ink.”

  “Had I the power I would see that you never picked worms from the flaps of octopi again,” Kenjan said.

  “It is no matter. You are one of the lowly now, beautiful master, and have no powers.”

  Kenjan looked away. Gaia winced. Wave seemed to become suddenly aware of the awkwardness of its statement, but was at a loss for how to recover.

  “And I will never make you clean up after my hamster.” Gaia spoke a little too loudly.

  After a confused moment, Wave said, “Ah, yes. Gaia does have the mysterious hamster-beast. It digs.”

  Kenjan nodded. “Some things dig.”

  Wave wrung its hands. “I am sorry for pointing out your bad circumstance, my master.”

  “It is fine,” Kenjan said. “Gaia Jones?”

  “Yes?”

  “Since your intention is to be bad, will you carry a message to my Oziru for me?” Kenjan’s demeanor was infinitely fragile. The tension of its body, the way its hands failed to move, everything about the alien bespoke loss.

  Gaia felt suddenly cold, as though they’d had a hull breach and all atmosphere was being sucked out into space. They had reached the morose section of the evening. Had she been in the habit of having fun recently, she’d have remembered the drinking pendulum effect. The higher the swing into giddy madness, the lower the return into depression. She’d had one too many beers. The room spun gently. Empathy for Kenjan surged up within her, and while part of her knew this was just the effect of liquor, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling the powerful urge to help her charge.

  Kenjan said, “Please, my guardian. Tell my Oziru I hear its mournful singing, and I ache to be loved as much as my Oziru’s arms ache from emptiness. I feel the infinite pain of love.”

  Gaia’s stunted memory capacity couldn’t hold that much. She was suddenly annoyed, and her depleted reservoir of tact allowed her to screw up her face in irritation. “Can’t I just say that you miss Oziru?”

  Kenjan scowled, then smiled at her sour expression. “That lacks poetry.”

  “But it’s short. How much do you think I can remember?”

  “Then say to Oziru ‘My throat is dry’. Can you remember that?”

  “My master,” Wave protested. “You are so dirty and mean. Asking Gaia to say filthy, confusing things to Oziru.”

  “It would be a good joke though.” Kenjan pushed away from the edge of the pool. “I think that I may sing tonight.”

  “You do not like to sing,” Wave pointed out.

  “No, but it helps to ease me.” Kenjan flipped back under the water. Would any of this ever make sense to her? Would she even remember it? Maybe she should write herself a note. Kenjan resurfaced, its expression intense. “Seigata approaches.”

  “Horror! We have annoyed too much.” Wave’s expression was miserable.

  “Is that bad?” Gaia asked.<
br />
  “Probably not,” Kenjan said. “But you must hide Wave.”

  “Because I am giddy with orange?”

  “No,” Kenjan slammed its hand into the water, sending an arcing splash hurtling toward Wave. “Because you have painted your face like a criminal impostor and are too giddy with orange to remember it.”

  Wave’s cranial tendrils stiffened almost as much as Kenjan’s had when Wave had been impersonating Seigata’s voice. Then Wave’s eyes narrowed. “Is this a sneaky reciprocation joke?”

  “No!” Kenjan hurled a handful of slimy yellow sea-grass at Wave. “Get out now.”

  Wave leapt to its feet and rushed into Gaia’s bedroom. At the same moment, the other door to the shrine opened to reveal Seigata. The alien wore a resplendent collar of woven gold that scooped down low over its chest. As usual, it wore gold bands around the base of each cranial tendril and gauntlets and anklets made from pearls. As drunk as Gaia was, she found it impossible not to stare at Seigata’s blank crotch. She knew that she had to get over the idea that the Kishocha were genital-less neuters who shamelessly refused to wear pants. But when sitting down with her head at crotch-level, it was hard to avoid the stare.

  “You may rise, Guardian.” Seigata mistook her dumbfounded drunkenness for respect. Gaia glanced askance at Kenjan. The alien had disappeared leaving her completely alone with an irritated superior. The room tilted, and Gaia wobbled but kept upright. She felt suddenly childish. She hung her head in shame.

  Seigata reached out, lifted her chin and studied her face.

  “Are you ill, Guardian?”

  Gaia was about to refuse when some independently intelligent internal mechanism recognized the lifeline Seigata offered.

  “Yes! I’m not feeling well.”

  “I thought so,” Seigata said. “You smell bad and your face is ugly. Have you deliriously placed fraudulent markings on your face?”

  Gaia wriggled her chin out of Seigata’s grip. “I was practicing for a dress-up party. Humans sometimes disguise themselves as other creatures for fun.”