Parasite Milk

by Carlton Mellick III

  “When does Andrew come?” I ask.

  “In a few days. We’ve got a lot of work to do before then, but there should be time to see the sights and have a little fun.”

  He winks at me as he says a little fun. I really don’t want to know what he means by that.

  “Who else is already here?” I ask.

  He looks at me as though he has no idea what I’m talking about.

  “Who else?” he asks.

  “The crew,” I say. “Is anyone going to meet us?”

  Mick shakes his head. “The crew? What are you talking about? We’re the crew.”

  “I mean the rest of the crew.”

  “There is no rest of the crew. You’re doing the filming. Andrew will be in front of the camera. I handle the rest. We’ll have a guide or two, but it’s basically just us.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask.

  He pats me on the back. “No big deal. We can handle it.”

  “How come they only sent two people? They sent ten times as many for the Byron One episode.”

  He shrugs. “It’s Kynaria. Nobody wanted to go to Kynaria. You have to have guts to come to a backwards planet like this one.”

  Just before we exit the teleportation pod, Mick smiles at me. “That must have been why they sent the two of us. We’ve got more guts than any of them combined.”

  The transport station doesn’t look any different than the one back on Earth. The same building materials, the same architecture, the same bland gray colors. There just aren’t too many humans in sight. In fact, besides Mick, myself, and a few Japanese business men exiting our teleportation pod, there aren’t any other humans in sight. The place is full of beings from hundreds of different planets across the galaxy, each one more surreal than the last. I don’t recognize a single one of them. Some of them are small and furry. Others are the size of elephants with multiple small human-like limbs. There’s a red snake-like man slithering toward the baggage claim. A feathered one-eyed lady with webbed feet and a long black beak sits in the food court, regurgitating bugs into her children’s mouths. There were plenty of these visitors at the transport station back on Earth, but it seems stranger when experiencing it as one of the aliens, rather than one of the natives.

  Mick smiles at the expression on my face as he catches me alien-watching.

  “Pretty fascinating, aren’t they?” Mick asks, licking his lips as he admires a three-breasted kangaroo-like woman with pink fur strutting across our path.

  “Which ones are the Kynarians?” I ask.

  I’d seen a picture of one online before my trip, but none of these people look anything like that one did.

  “Most of them are Kynarians,” he says. “Can’t you tell?”

  He points out the Kynarians. They are the large blob-like ogres that fill the station. At first, I didn’t realize they were all the same species. They come in so many different colors and shapes. They range from deep emerald green to bright fluorescent pink to blue and yellow striped. Though some of them are fat and blob-like, others are tall and thin. The only thing they have in common is that they all seem mushroom-like, with large bell-shaped heads. I’m not sure if they evolved from mushrooms or if they just evolved to blend in with their mushroom surroundings, but they definitely look like the kind of beings that would live in a world dominated by fungus.

  As I get close to one of the Kynarians, a strong pungent truffle-like odor fills my nostrils. It’s so offensive that I have to step back and cover my nose.

  Mick looks at me, wondering what’s wrong.

  “It smells in here,” I say.

  He nods in agreement, but doesn’t bother to cover his nose. “Yeah, every planet has its own unique funk that you have to deal with. The smell is everywhere. You’ll get used to it.”

  I shake my head. I have no idea how I’ll get used to this kind of stench.

  After we get our luggage, we leave the transport station and head into the alien city.

  “Look at that, Rice,” Mick says, standing on the sidewalk with his arms outstretched. “This is what you were missing staying on Earth all this time.”

  The sky is pink and blue and purple, covered in large billowing clouds that are deep red in color as though they’re filled with blood instead of water. The buildings are built into the sides of massive golden mushrooms larger than any skyscraper back on Earth. The streets are paved with smooth blue glass and instead of vehicles, people ride on the backs of giant slugs that move faster than any car I’ve ever seen.

  The sight is overwhelming. I’ve seen pictures of alien worlds, but nothing prepared me for actually being on one. I need to sit down to catch my breath, only there’s nothing recognizable as a chair for me to sit down on.

  “Come on,” Mick says, patting me on the back so hard I nearly fall over. “Let’s check into the hotel and then go get a beer.”

  “They have beer here?”

  He shrugs. “Well, the Kynarian equivalent to a beer.”

  I agree, but I am not too sure about the idea of drinking strange alien alcohol, or even getting drunk on an alien planet. But Mick doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who takes no for an answer. And since he has nobody else to drink with, I don’t think there’s any chance he’d let me talk my way out of it.

  Chapter Two

  We take a slug taxi across town. It’s all automated. No need for a driver. The slug is supposed to be telepathic and knows where you want to go without you having to say so. It’s very convenient. Still, riding on the back of a slug isn’t something I expected to be doing on my trip. You’re able to sit inside of an enormous cushy seat designed to fit the largest of Kynarians, but there’s no floor between your feet and the slug. Mick rests his shoes right on the slimy back of the creature, dipping his toes in gray ooze. But I can’t get myself to do that. I just hold them up in the air for the whole ride.

  When we pull up alongside the entrance to a large mushroom hotel, I think the slug must have brought us to the wrong location. This isn’t at all where we were supposed to go.

  “We’re here,” Mick says.

  I shake my head, not wanting to leave the taxi.

  “I thought we were going to stay in a human hotel,” I say. “That’s what they told me.”

  Mick frowns. “Hell no. That shithole is in Earthtown. There’s no way we’re staying in Earthtown. Where’s the fun in that? I cancelled our reservation and got us a place here. You don’t go to Kynaria without living like the Kynarians.”

  “But…”

  He doesn’t let me say another word. He pulls me out of my seat and waves the giant slug away.

  “You’ll love it,” he says. “Trust me.”

  The second we get into the Kynarian hotel room, I realize I should never trust Mick to make decisions for me ever again.

  “I don’t love it,” I tell him. “I don’t love it at all.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Mick says. “This place is amazing.”

  I look at him and then back at the hotel room. There aren’t any beds in the room, at least nothing I’d recognize as a bed. The majority of the floor is taken up by a large pool of black mud.

  “Are we supposed to sleep in that?” I ask, pointing at the mud puddle.

  He nods. “That’s how the Kynarians sleep.”

  “In mud?”

  He nods again. “Sure, why not? They say it’s warm and soothing. It’s supposed to be good for the skin.”

  “Human skin or Kynarian skin?”

  He shrugs. “I’m sure it’s perfectly safe for human skin.”

  I examine the mud more closely. It’s bubbling like a tar pit. I couldn’t imagine how you’d be able to sleep in there.

  “Do we sleep naked in that thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And we sleep in it together?”

  “Kynarians always sleep in groups, so yeah. Don’t worry though. We can sleep on opposite sides. It’s not gay or anything.”

  “And we won’t drown?”
r />   “Probably not.”

  “And what do we use for pillows?”

  He points at the cushioned rim of the pool. “You sleep with your head out of the mud. It’s not all that soft, but will support your neck okay.”

  “But we’ll wake up every day covered in mud…”

  “It’s fine. They probably have a shower or something in the bathroom.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Check it out.”

  I cross the room, careful not to slip and fall into the mud. The bathroom doesn’t look anything like the bathrooms on Earth. For one thing, there’s nothing that resembles a toilet, a sink, or a tub. There is a large basin in the center of the floor made from what looks to be a bear-sized clamshell. A constant stream of water pours into the shell like a waterfall.

  “Is this it?” I ask.

  Mick comes over and nods his head.

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “What about the toilet?”

  He looks away and scratches the back of his neck. “About that…”

  I look at him. “What?”

  “A Kynarian shower kind of doubles as the toilet.”

  I look at the shower and then back at Mick. “Huh?”

  “Kynarians don’t have anuses. They defecate through their skin, so they don’t have any use for toilets.”

  “So they shit in the shower instead?”

  “Yeah…”

  “So we have to shit in the shower as well?”

  He rubs his beard at me. “To tell you the truth, it’s not entirely unpleasant.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He shrugs. “You’ll get used to it.” Then he turns to the bathroom closet and opens its doors. “It’s really not that bad. It’s just a pain because you have to undress and dry off every time you want to take a dump.” He puts his hand under the stream of water. “At least the water’s warm.”

  After we unpack our clothes in the bathroom closet, Mick takes me out for dinner and drinks.

  “Since we’re going to be living together for a couple of weeks, we should get to know each other a little better,” he says.

  We don’t wander too far from the hotel. Mick takes us to a place just down the street. It’s not a typical tourist spot. It’s a real Kynarian restaurant that caters only to Kynarian clientele. We’re the only two offworlders in the place.

  “If you’re in Kynaria, you have to eat authentic Kynarian food,” Mick says.

  He sits us down at a table right in the center of the place, like he wants everyone to notice that we’re here.

  “Is Kynarian food any good?” I ask.

  Mick shrugs. “I don’t know. Not really. But it’s still the right thing to do.”

  I nod my head.

  “They have a McDonald’s over in Earthtown now,” he says. “Could you imagine that? Coming all the way across the galaxy and eating at McDonald’s? It’s blasphemy.”

  I nod my head.

  Mick continues, “We’ve only been a part of the teleportation network for five years and there’s already a McDonald’s on every fucking planet in the galaxy. Can you believe that shit? It makes me embarrassed to be human.”

  He pauses to think about it for a moment. And then, in a slightly ashamed tone, he says, “Although I guess I’ve been to all of them. I’m always tempted to try the unique alien menu items…”

  Before we get any menus or order any food, a small toadstool of a waitress comes by and puts plates on our table. Then she delivers two fizzy drinks.

  “What’s this?” I ask. “Did they give us somebody else’s food?”

  Mick shakes his head. “Nah. This is how they do it at restaurants in Kynaria.”

  He picks up a pink chunk of food from his plate and stuffs it into his mouth.

  Between chews, he says, “You don’t get to choose what you eat like you do on Earth. Kynarian restaurants serve you whatever they want to serve you. They see you as a guest in their home. When you go to a dinner party, you don’t demand your hosts make you whatever you want them to make you. You have to eat what you’re given. That’s what it’s like on Kynaria. Actually, that’s what it’s like in restaurants on most worlds I’ve been to. Earth restaurants are actually pretty unique in that way.”

  I nod and look down at my plate. I’ve been given something different than Mick. The stuff on the right of my plate looks a bit like blue sauerkraut, while the left half of my plate contains a slab of mystery meat in some kind of yellow gravy.

  I don’t know if I’m happy or worried that I’ve been served food that I didn’t order myself. On one hand, I probably wouldn’t have been able to understand the menu or known what I was ordering anyway. On the other hand, I could have been given anything. This blue sauerkraut could be some kind of slug-like creature’s pubic hair for all I know.

  “Don’t think too much about it,” Mick says. “Just eat it. You’re better off not knowing.”

  There aren’t any utensils resembling forks or spoons. Mick just eats with his hands, so I decide to follow suit.

  “The Kynarians have long hooked fingernails they use to eat with, so they don’t need forks or chopsticks or anything.”

  I nod my head and pick up a pinch of the blue sauerkraut stuff. When I put it in my mouth, the flavor overwhelms me. It tastes kind of like rotten peaches soaked in gasoline. I swallow it anyway.

  “Is this stuff safe for human consumption?” I ask.

  “Most of it is,” he says.

  Saliva pools in my mouth.

  “What do you mean most of it?”

  “Well, they have a lot of mushroom-based foods here. And you know how there’s a lot of poisonous mushrooms back on earth? Well, there’s even more poisonous mushrooms here. And Kynarians are resistant to most forms of mushroom poison so they sometimes put them in their dishes.”

  As he talks, saliva has pooled so much inside of my mouth that it spills over my lips and down my chin.

  “But don’t worry,” he says. “I researched it thoroughly and would recognize any of the poisonous dishes they serve.”

  I hold my hand over my face, but the saliva keeps on coming.

  “Are you okay?” Mick asks, finally noticing that something is wrong with me.

  “My salivary glands are going nuts.” The flow of fluid becomes so bad I can hardly speak. “I’m drooling all over the place.”

  He nods his head. “Yeah, you must be having some kind of allergic reaction.”

  “Allergic reaction?” I gurgle.

  “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t be eating that. It’s probably not safe.”

  “Not safe?”

  “Just eat the yellow stuff. I’ve had that before. It’s grub steak. It won’t hurt you.”

  Saliva drenches my shirt. “Grub steak?”

  “Never eat blue stuff on an alien world,” he says. “No good ever comes from eating blue stuff.”

  It takes a while, but eventually my drooling calms down. I eat the grub steak, pretending that it didn’t come from a worm the size of a cow, and take sips of the fizzy beverage until my saliva glands return to normal. The only thing that actually tastes good is the beverage. It is sweet, but not offensively sweet. It reminds me of what a dandelion soda would taste like if I ever drank a dandelion soda. It’s not until I’m halfway through the beverage that I realize it’s highly alcoholic.

  “It’s actually frog semen,” Mick says.

  I have no idea what he’s talking about until he points at my beverage. “You’re drinking fermented semen.”

  I look down at my white drink.

  “You’re fucking with me…” I say.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “No, seriously. There’s this amphibious frog-like animal that produces a sweet semen that the Kynarians use to flavor all sorts of desserts and alcoholic drinks.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I ask. “That’s disgusting.”

  “No, it’s delicious,” he says.

  He takes a long gulp of his
fizzy frog semen.

  “You should put this on the show,” I say.

  “What? The frog semen drink?”

  I nod my head. “It’s perfect.”

  “Nah,” he says. “Andrew won’t do any alcoholic beverages. Maybe we can have him try one of the frog semen desserts, but not this drink.”

  “Why won’t he do alcoholic beverages?”

  “He doesn’t drink. He’ll talk about bizarre alcoholic beverages on the show, but he won’t drink them.”

  “So do you already know what weird foods you’re going to have Andrew eat?”

  “I’ve got plenty of leads, but we need to nail them all down before he gets here later in the week.”

  “What’s the grossest food you’ve got lined up so far?” I ask. “Anything worse than frog semen?”

  “A lot worse,” he says. “The frog semen is actually delicious. I could drink it every day. The viewers at home will think it’s disgusting, but that’s because they only imagine it would be terrible to drink.” He takes another sip. “The really disgusting dish involves anal shellfish.”

  “Anal shellfish?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he says. A smile creeps onto his face. “On Kynaria, there aren’t any oceans or large bodies of water, so they don’t have seafood like we do. But there’s a lot of different species of parasitic crustaceans and mollusks that they eat instead. For instance, the Kynarian version of lobster is a three-pound parasite that they harvest from the bellies of large mammals. The Kynarian version of a crab is this foot-long spider-like bug that infests the feathers of birds like lice or fleas. But anal shellfish… Man, anal shellfish freak the hell out of me…”

  He pauses to take another bite of his food.

  As he chews, he says, “There are a lot of large animals on Kynaria. Some of them are as big as dinosaurs. But there’s this one creature that is far bigger than anything else on this world. It’s like a woolly mammoth, but ten times the size of a brontosaurus. Anyway, this beast produces many species of parasites the locals consider to be the ultimate in fine dining. One of them is what I like to call anal shellfish. There are these large clams that grow inside the anus of this dinosaur creature, huge clusters of clams the size of my fist. And they smell absolutely horrible, even when cooked. I can only describe it as rotten fish mixed with stomach flu diarrhea.”