Story – Weeks 12 & 13: Utterly Unexplainable, part 3

Aliens!

At last, the overdue conclusion to Utterly Unexplainable! I blame the lack of internet last week! And I’m hoping to get you a bonus story a little later this week, too!

If you missed them, you should probably start with Part 1 and then Part 2.

Label: FictionDanger: Profanity Ahead

Michelle shielded her eyes from the piercing bright light. Even hiding behind a small copse of trees and boulders a hundred meters from the source of the light it seemed to emanate from everywhere at once and she could see nothing but white light even with her eyes closed. The light faded – Kwótx̱wem had explained the light operated as a sort of scanning device – and standing in the middle of the gap of trees between the road and the clearing stood a tall, white-blonde man in a silver metallic jumpsuit wearing silver sunglasses. Next to him an equally tall woman in a similar silver metallic cat suit, her white-blonde hair in a severe bun, wearing identical silver sunglasses.

In unison they both removed the glasses, nodded at each other, then began to walk towards the clearing ahead of them. One moment the meadow lay peaceful and empty, wan moonlight painting the brush a placid monochrome gray, the next moment an enormous silver disc of a spaceship dominated the meadow sitting heavily on its landing legs – there was no transition between empty meadow and alien ship. A ramp already extended from the underside of the disc to the ground and half a dozen four-foot-tall Grays poured down each carrying small black handles.

“They dropped their cloaking,” Kwótx̱wem’s whisper from behind her startled Michelle.

“Now?” she whispered back to Kwótx̱wem.

“Not yet…”

The Gray in the lead raised the handle towards the man and the woman. One of the Gray’s long fingers twitched, and a brilliant trichrome beam shot from the handle striking the man square in the chest. The silver jumpsuit erupted in rings around the point of impact, like a rock dropped into a phosphorescent pond. If any force made its way through the jumpsuit to the man, it didn’t show; he and the woman kept walking steadily towards the oncoming Grays who had spread out and now all brought their beam weapons to bear. The night lit up with lasers flashing uselessly towards the two silver-clad Nordic aliens.

The lead Gray stopped firing as he came within arm’s reach of the man who casually palmed the bulbous head of the Gray like an NBA player palming a basketball. The gray-skinned alien dropped its weapon and wrapped its fingers around the Nordic’s arm, but the man gripped the base of the Gray’s neck and twisted with a jerk. Even from the distance of the trees, Michelle could hear the sickening crack of the Gray’s neck.

“Eww,” she said reflexively.

“Do not be upset,” Kwótx̱wem whispered, “they are barely more than automatons.”

“Come again?”

Kwótx̱wem sighed as his heavy fur-covered brow knitted in thought. “It is difficult to explain succinctly,” he rubbed his chin with an enormous hairy hand. “The Grays were effectively created by the Reptilians as foot soldiers. They are biological, yes, but they are really not much more than clockwork beings.”

Michelle heard another sickening crack and turned back to see the woman with a Gray in her hands as the man hurled the first now-limp gray like an oblong volleyball towards the still-oncoming Grays.

“Now?” Michelle whispered to Kwótx̱wem.

“Not yet…”

Two more Grays snapped, and the remaining two stopped advancing and kept firing their beam weapons. The Nordics were now a mere twenty meters from the ship. The night air shimmered a meter in front of the Nordic man and then a Reptilian stood a head taller than the tall human-looking alien. Weaponless, the Reptilian swung a massive taloned hand. The Nordic had time to raise his arm to protect his face, but the power of the blow knocked him to the ground. The Nordic woman turned to help her comrade and in doing so didn’t see the Reptilian materialize behind her and caught its punch in the midsection. She staggered but remained standing. Her Reptilian closed on her with blinding speed, but this clearly wasn’t her first encounter with the scaled aliens, as the charging Reptilian itself was caught in the gut by the woman’s silver boot, gasping as the breath left its lungs.

“The Reptilians are here,” Kwótx̱wem exclaimed. “Now!”

Michelle leapt forward, keeping to the edge of the forest, Kwótx̱wem and Qelóth

Behind her. She moved as quickly as she could, but Kwótx̱wem’s long strides carried him past her almost immediately. Qelóth, too, nearly bounded past her, but Kwótx̱wem made a gesture, and Michelle found herself lifted easily off the ground by Qelóth and hauled along as he kept pace with the larger Kwótx̱wem. She twisted her head around and could see the Nordics fully engaged with the Reptilians, both sides exchanging punches and kicks.

One of the Grays closest to the charging Sasquatches spotted them as they raced out of the shadows of trees and towards the ramp. It raised its weapon but before it could be brought to bear, Kwótx̱wem closed on the Gray and slammed a massive fist down on the Gray’s oversized head, driving the alien to the ground like a sack of alien potatoes.

Qelóth released Michelle and the two Sasquatch bent to get under the ship as all three raced up the ramp into the ship.

“You’re sure we’re okay?” Michelle asked as they crossed a barrier that brought them into a brightly lit chamber inside the ship.

“Yes,” Kwótx̱wem said. “This is a landing vehicle. The Reptilians leave a pair of shock troopers planet-side to supervise the Grays and intervene if necessary, but the rest are in their ship in orbit. But we had best not dawdle,” he said, pawing a button on a control panel causing the ramp to retract. “They will send reinforcements.”

“How quickly can they fly down here?”

“They do not have to fly – they beam down…” Kwótx̱wem started, but was cut off as a hatch in front of them slid open and a Reptilian rushed forward blindly slamming into Kwótx̱wem by sheer momentum, their heads knocking together loudly. The Sasquatch and alien stood dazed momentarily, as Michelle stared back and forth uselessly wondering what to do. Fortunately, Qelóth didn’t hesitate and connected his fist with the Reptilian’s head which caromed off his fist slamming into the metal bulkhead, the huge alien crumpling to the ground lifelessly.

“Just two?” Michelle asked Qelóth.

He shrugged.

“Kwótx̱wem?” she reached up and shook the large Sasquatch’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” He blinked several times and then shook his head back and forth.

“Yes… I believe so. That smarts!” he said, rubbing his expansive forehead. “Where did he come from?”

“I was wondering the same thing!” Michelle said.

“It does not matter. We have to get to the transport beam.”

“Lead on MacDuff,” Michelle said.

“My name is Kwótx̱wem.”

“It’s an expression. Let’s go!”

**

Jason stepped carefully over the dead lizard-looking alien on the floor and began searching the room for… anything useful. His priority was clothes of some kind, but a weapon would be nice as well. He pressed a panel which opened with a hiss revealing folded white tunics. The oversized garment hung around his neck dress-like, but Jason kept pressing panels, looking for anything else that would be useful. He found a small laser scalpel on the floor and guessed the alien used that to cut into him. Regarding the small iridescent blade Jason thought it dangerous, but not exactly the most formidable weapon. Still, he dropped it in the pocket of his tunic sparing a moment of gratitude for whomever devised adding a pocket to this utilitarian garment.

A narrow panel hissed open at his touch and Jason emulated another Keanu Reeves. “Excellent!” he said as he reached out to grab the long-handled tool. At the end of the four-foot-long handle a gleaming silver crescent blade extended from one side, its arc bringing the point in line with the handle, both sides honed to razor sharpness. From the top of the handle, a ten-inch diameter saw blade extended. Jason hefted the tool and appreciated its solid weight. Near the bottom of the handle he found a small button which triggered the saw blade into whirring life. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed and then fought down his rising gorge as he imagined what these snake-like assholes used this thing for in this operating room. He shuddered, then turned towards the closed door, bringing the ferocious scythe-saw to guard in front of him as he touched the button to release the aperture.

**

“How many of these goddamn little fuckers are in here?!” Michelle screamed as she punched a Gray, immediately pivoting to kick another incoming Gray, the point of her boot sinking sickeningly into one of its enormous eyes.

“I did not expect them to have this many Grays planet-side,” Kwótx̱wem said as he swatted one Gray with a right backhand and slamming another gripping his left bicep hard into a bulkhead.

Behind him, Qelóth was spinning in a circle, swinging a Gray by the feet, taking out several onrushing Grays. “This is kinda fun!” he giggled.

“This is not a game, Qelóth!” Kwótx̱wem admonished as he hurled one Gray into two more flooding in from a neighboring room, all three collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

“No shit, Sherlock!” Michelle yelled as she wriggled to dislodge her foot from the dead Gray.

“I am not Sherlock. My name is…”

“Yeah, yeah, Kwótx̱wem. For an intellectual being you know shit about human idioms!” A Gray rushed her as she was crouched down. She sprung up with the oncoming Gray, tossing him across the chamber into a wall.

“I resent that remark,” Kwótx̱wem said suddenly without an attacking Gray. He peered through the open doorway. “This way… MacDuff.”

“That’s not how… Ugh!” Michelle groaned as she started his direction.

Qelóth released his weaponized Gray and it flung limply under a bulkhead. “Wait up!” he yelled and bounded towards the doorway that the two disappeared through.

Inside, five transparent cylinders shimmered and pulsed pink to red in the dim light. “Transport beams!” Kwótx̱wem exclaimed hurrying to a nearby console. Hands poised over the controls, his eyes scanned the buttons and read outs.

“You can read that?” Michelle asked.

Kwótx̱wem turned an incredulous stare towards her. “We are interdimensional beings, human. We are not constrained to just this plain – I have encountered innumerable alien dialects over the course of my life!”

“So, you can’t read it then?”

“No,” he said. “Well,” he amended, “not really. But these glyphs are familiar enough… This one…” he pressed a button which caused the solid-looking cylinders to split allowing an entrance. “Now we are making food on fire!”

“Now we’re cooking with gas?”

“That is what I meant.” He pressed another button and the pink-red pulsing within the cylinders turned to a deep azure blue with silver streaks rising from the floor to where the cylinders touched the ceiling. “We are ready. Inside!”

The three rushed to separate cylinders. The two sasquatch stepped in without hesitation, disappearing into the beam. Michelle paused a moment but seeing them disappear and realizing she was suddenly alone, she stepped determinedly into the beam.

She immediately regretted it.

**

When the door slid open he could see the hulking shadows of two Reptilian guards flanking the door. Sparing a moment to think about how to get around these two, he suddenly thought about seeing his organs splayed out. His hand reflexively touched his stomach and belly button ring as his ire bloomed exponentially.

One of the guards turned its head to see why the door had opened but no one had come out. Unfortunately, his head turn came just as Jason slashed viciously upwards towards his face. The outer blade of Jason’s weapon caught the Reptilian deep across the snout and sent him sprawling. Jason didn’t hesitate to swing the staff towards the other guard who already had turned at the sound. Jason triggered the saw blade which whirred up and immediately slowed as it bit into the second Reptilians throat slicing quickly into an artery, causing green blood to geyser out all over Jason.

The first Reptilian started to get to its feet and Jason jabbed at it with the butt of the tool, knocking it flat to the ground.

Both guards down, he surveyed his surroundings. He stood in an empty corridor. In front of him the blue of planet earth dominated the view through the panels running the length of the corridor. To his right, the corridor disappeared around a bend; to his left. Jason looked down at the prone guards. These guys were enormous, and Jason felt sure he wouldn’t have been as lucky without having the element of surprise on his side. He opted to head to the door on his left, hoping he might catch another Reptilian by surprise. He took a few steps, then stopped and looked at the dead guards and noticed they both had long black staffs. He picked one up and felt its weight versus the scythe-saw – about even. He clicked a button in the middle of the staff and both ends crackled with foot-long electrical arcs. He wasn’t sure whether this would be better than the brutal scythe-saw, but used its strap to sling it over his shoulder – just in case.

Halfway down the corridor the doors opened with a hiss and two huge dog-like creatures bounded through towards him. As they closed on him, mouths agape barring enormous fangs, Jason could see they sported a row of sharp spines down their backs. “Chupacabras?” Jason said as he barely had time to get into a fighting stance, “Seriously?!” But the lead Chupacabra bounded past Jason on the right, spinning him around where he bounced off the second Chupacabra charging past him on the left. He steadied himself and watched as they ran past him and fell upon the two dead Reptilians. “Eew!” Jason said, but was interrupted by a call from down the hallway. He turned to see another Reptilian bound through the still-open door, two empty leashes in its clawed hand. Its eyes widened as it focused on Jason. Both exchanged surprised looks, then Jason surprised himself by charging down the corridor towards the Reptilian. He was equally surprised that the Reptilian dropped the leashes and started sprinting the opposite way.

**

She later described the sensation as “feeling like your skin was being turned inside out while on fire.” Though she admitted that didn’t really capture the pure agony of the sensation. Fortunately, painful as it was, it lasted a split second and she found herself stepping out of the cylinder into a nearly identical room.

“Ugh,” she said. “That sucked.”

Qelóth threw up in the corner. Even Kwótx̱wem looked slightly unsteady. “These transport beams are ridiculously inefficient.”

“Where are we?”

“We are aboard the Reptilian warship in orbit.”

“Oh, okay…” she said as nonchalantly as she could manage. “So, uh, now what?”

“We find your mate,” Kwótx̱wem said, moving across the chamber to what appeared to be some sort of equipment rack. He took a staff down and tossed it to Qelóth then took one for himself and turned towards the door to the chamber.

“Ahem?”

“Yes?” Kwótx̱wem asked.

“Where’s mine?”

A smile spread across Kwótx̱wem’s face. “With those Grays in the landing ship,” he started, “You handled yourself admirably, human.”

“Michelle.”

“Human Michelle.” He tossed her his staff and took another one for himself.

She caught it and pressed the button in the middle of the staff. A brilliant arc sizzled to life on both ends. “Fuck yeah!” she said, a dangerous gleam in her eye.

“I like you, human Michelle,” Kwótx̱wem said pressing the button to release the door. It hissed open to reveal four Reptilians who were about to press the button on their side. The sasquatches and Reptilians stood shocked for a moment, but Michelle didn’t hesitate. She ignited the electrical beam of her staff and swung it two-handed at the lead Reptilian, the electrical blade cleanly slicing its hand off as the blade continued up slicing up through the creature’s chin and skull. She stepped forward, reversing her swing and catching a second Reptilian across the face before spinning the staff in her hands bringing the back blade up slicing into its gut. The creature screeched as it collapsed to the ground. She stepped back and noticed Kwótx̱wem and Qelóth dispatching the other two Reptilians. When the last Reptilian hit the deck, Kwótx̱wem turned to her. “I like you, human Michelle!”

“Thanks,” Michelle said panting with the exertion as she extinguished the electrical blade and spun the staff in her hands absently because, well, because she could. Never thought that cosplay fighting class would be useful, she thought.

Kwótx̱wem looked both ways, then motioned them to follow. “This is the way.”

Michelle started after him, but Qelóth touched her on the shoulder, “That kicked ass!”

Michelle blushed and followed after the two sasquatches. They rounded a corridor and nearly collided with green blood-streaked Jason who reflexively swung his bladed staff. Kwótx̱wem neatly dodged the swing “Careful human!”

“Jason!” Michelle yelled, rushing towards him. He dropped his weapon as she embraced him. “Oh my god, I didn’t think we’d find you.”

“Where the hell are we?” he asked while he held onto her tightly.

“Reptilian warship in orbit,” she said flatly.

“Of course,” he replied. “What now?”

“I advise,” Kwótx̱wem started, but his words were cut off by an enormous explosion. The entire ship lurched. Qelóth stumbled, and Kwótx̱wem steadied himself by spanning the two walls with his enormous arms. Jason held Michelle as they rode out the pitching floor.

“What’s happening?” Michelle yelled as several smaller explosions rumbled through the ship.

“I believe the Nordics are engaging the Reptilian warship.”

“Let’s get out of here!” Michelle yelled back.

“That is an excellent idea,” and they all started stumbling down the pitching corridor towards the transport tubes.

Coming around the corner, they regarded two more Reptilians standing over the four dead aliens. Michelle’s staff blazed to life first again as she charged them.

“Michelle!” Jason moved to stop her.

Kwótx̱wem placed a large hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye and just shook his head.

Michelle cut down the two Reptilians with brutal efficiency before either had time to raise their own weapons.

“Holy shit,” Jason said.

“Right?!” Qelóth nodded. “Badass!”

Michelle extinguished the blade and lurched for the door release. “Let’s go!” she called. Jason and the sasquatches hurried through as the floor bucked violently, another explosion rumbling the walls. Kwótx̱wem punched something on the console and the direction of the beams changed and he didn’t have to say anything for them all to step into the beams.

The four staggered into the transport room in the landing ship, Qelóth dry-heaving, Jason grasping his head moaning. Kwótx̱wem cleared his head with a shake, and Michelle knelt before slowly straightening. Kwótx̱wem hurried to the console and punched in a sequence.

“What are you doing?” Michelle asked.

“Locking the transporter so they cannot follow us.” A series of buzzes indicated success and they hurried towards the exit. Two Grays rushed towards them, but Michelle didn’t even light the blades, slamming the two aliens with her staff.

“Should I worry about her?” Jason quietly asked Kwótx̱wem who gave him a quick shake of his head.

Qelóth hit the button dropping the ramp and the four raced down the ramp into the cool woody air. Just in front of the ship, the two Nordics stood impassively.

“You were successful, yes?” the man asked.

“We were,” Kwótx̱wem. “Were those your people attacking the Reptilian ship.”

“Yes,” the woman answered. “They detected a precipitous drop in life forms and decided to engage before the Reptilians sought to retreat.”

“That was her,” Qelóth pointed to Michelle with a thumb.

Both Nordics raised their brows, then gave Michelle a short bow. “We appreciate your efforts, warrior human.”

“Well, uh… they helped, too,” she said blushing.

The male Nordic approached Jason. “You have something we gave you.”

“I do?”

The Nordic raised the front of Jason’s tunic and his hands reflexively moved to cover his genitals. “Whoa there, Sven!”

The Nordic paid no attention, raising the tunic high enough to reveal Jason’s stomach. He turned his head to the woman, “the Intrelit system is intact.”

The woman nodded and pressed a button on a device she held. Jason’s knees bucked instantly as he groaned in pain and pitched forward. Kwótx̱wem stepped forward lifted Jason under the arms.

“Jason!” Michelle yelled, the blades of the staff igniting.

Qelóth put his hand on her shoulder gently. “It’s okay, human badass.”

She stared at the Nordics suspiciously but didn’t advance.

Jason looked down and saw the belly button ring begin to change color from the metallic silver to a dark indigo, then it began to vibrate gently. He yelled out as he felt a burning sensation. The blue ring melted out of the piercing and fell from Jason’s body into the male Nordic’s open hand. The pain instantly subsided and Jason cautiously tried to stand on his own. The small blue ring expanded in the Nordic’s hand to about 15 centimeters in diameter and Jason could see that the blue color wasn’t solid but in fact held several multi-colored orbs.

“What is that?” he asked.

“This is the Intrelit solar system from the second arm of the Andromeda galaxy.”

Michelle, staff extinguished, stepped forward to regard the ring. “It’s beautiful. Are the people, err…”

“The inhabitants are indeed in there. Their worlds are in stasis at the moment, frozen in time and space.”

“Until we return and expand the system,” the female Nordic finished.

“And when do you plan to do that?”

As if in answer, the two Nordics became spotlighted by two columns of light pouring down from overhead. The beams seemingly stretched endlessly into the sky.

“Right now,” the male Nordic said.

“Thank you,” the female Nordic said just as their bodies became translucent and they seemingly evaporated into the beams of light which then retreated vertically up into the sky.

The two sasquatches and two humans watched the beam of light vanish into the dark then blinked rapidly in the dim moonlight.

“What about this thing?” Jason said, motioning to the disc behind them. On cue, the ramp retracted. The four stepped quickly clear of the ship as a thrumming bass note emanated from the craft. As it lifted from the ground, the landing struts retracted, and it hovered about fifteen feet off the meadow floor for a moment and then shot straight up at an impossible speed. “That answers that,” he said.

“Well, that was… uh… exciting,” Michelle said.

“Indeed, human Michelle,” Kwótx̱wem said. “We, too, must make our farewells.”  Kwótx̱wem held out an enormous paw to Jason. “I am sorry you were a pawn in all of this.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, shaking the sasquatch’s hand, “me too!”

Turning to Michelle, Kwótx̱wem bowed. “Human Michelle, it was an honor to fight beside you.”

Michelle returned the bow. “Thanks, Kwótx̱wem – did I get that right?”

“Yes, very good.”

“Uh, can I keep this?” she motioned to the staff.

“We should confiscate that alien artifact,” Kwótx̱wem started, then changed his tone. “If any alien artifact had come back to earth. But I did not see any. Did you, Qelóth?”

“What? No, no I didn’t,” he said, then bowed to Michelle and stage whispered, “Badass!”

The two sasquatches moved towards the edge of the forest.

“Will we ever see you again?” Michelle asked.

Kwótx̱wem regarded her for a moment, then said, “Strange things happen in the Emerald Triangle…”

“No, Kwótx̱wem, that’s not what they mean by the Emerald Triangle…” she corrected.

The large sasquatch shrugged his furry shoulders, “I do not think this is our last meeting. Farewell!” and both Kwótx̱wem and Qelóth vanished into the trees.

Jason and Michelle stood alone in the quiet meadow. A choir of frogs croaking started up in the distance joined by chirping crickets from all directions. A car sped by on the highway fifty meters ahead of them. Michelle let out a long sigh. “Why don’t we get you into some better clothes?” she said looking at his green splattered tunic.

“Can I get a shower first? Maybe a bleach bath?” he laughed.

“Definitely,” she said taking his hand. They started towards the road and their car still parked on the shoulder. “I wonder if the motel has a continental breakfast…”

Leslie The Dragon vs Craigslist

Story night this week falls on Valentine’s Day, so I figured I’d better put together a Valentine’s Day story. Yesterday I had a chance to tell this story at the Do Tell Story Swap in Santa Rosa last night. I’d never had a chance to tell/perform any of my stories before and it was so much fun. Of course being nervous I forgot a lot of details. So, here is the story in it’s full. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Label: Fiction

Girl DragonTo be fair, she’d tried everything she could think of before going online. She let her friends set her up with their friends (they just weren’t into her), she tried blind dates (ugh, disaster after unmitigated disaster — do you know what happens when an unsuspecting dolled up dragon meets an equally dapper yet unsuspecting Duke at an upscale bistro. I’ll tell you this, no one was killed, but you’d never guess a dragon in A-line shift dress could dodge the spears of half a dozen bodyguards so ably, and the duke realized polyester was a poor fabric choice once Leslie started breathing fire). She tried singles mixers, she even asked Taylor the leprechaun in IT out (turns out he was gay. who knew?).
Leslie the Dragon was at her wits end.
And it wasn’t like Craigslist was her first foray online either. She’d tried Match.com, eHarmony, Plenty of Fish, Zoosk… she was super excited about d-date.com, the all-dragon dating site? Turns out it’s full of Russian chat bots trying to sell you counterfeit prescription drugs.
Deterred but not defeated, she decided to pull out all the stops in an effort not to spend another Valentine’s day by herself in her cave watching Crazy Ex-Girlfriend reruns. So, despite her better judgement, she found herself on Craigslist creating an account (PrplPpleEtr37) and composing a post in the Long Term Relationship room for “Women Seeking Men”. She started simply, with the title: “SPD [Single Purple Dragon] seeking a good man for Valentine’s Day!” Good start, she thought. Now for the post…
“Are you a fun-loving, adventurous man? Do you like dragons (who doesn’t?! 🙂 ) Are you looking for a fun Valentine’s date? Send me a message!” Short, sweet, simple, she thought, this is easier than I thought! She took a deep sulfurous breath and clicked “Submit”.
She didn’t have to wait long.
The first response came in just three minutes later. “HawtDude69” had drunkenly (she’d hoped he was drunk) scrawled out the reply, “Hey BB, I can slay that dragon. Let’s hook up! You want this!” She frowned and deleted the message, but the deluge had just started. Over the next few hours the responses poured in, most making HawtDude69’s message read like Shakespeare. Then she got her first unsolicited pic of male genitalia. Out of pure shock, she accidentally incinerated her monitor. She took that as a sign and decided she was done for the night.
She got a new monitor the next day, and proceeded to sort through the detritus that passed as responses — all 138 of them. One caught her eye, though. His handle was  “NeverNeedsALighter336”. Cute…. “Hey PrplPpleEtr37! You sound like a lot of fun! I’m 12’ 10” [tall, good…], athletic [positive...], like to laugh [ooh, nice!], and have fun [me too!]. Let’s get coffee or pillage a village soon! JK about the village!”
Leslie was over the moon. She wrote back, got his phone number and they agreed to meet the next day at a coffee shop near her work.
The next day her coworkers smiled at her renewed enthusiasm. Taylor admired her filed and painted claws and the leprechaun said her black skirt and boots were, in his words, “fierce”. Before she left work, she re-did her makeup in the bathroom, admired the new faux-emerald stud she wore in her nose horn. She felt, in the parlance of Craigslist, “hawt”.
She got to the coffeeshop early, ordered a skinny latte with a shot of brimstone and waited. And waited. And waited. Sometime after her fifth skinny latte she decided to text NeverNeedsALighter. “New phone, who dis?” came back. She left claw marks in the table.
She removed her first post and tried another, simpler post: “SPD looking for a real guy.”
Same cavalcade of sex solicitations and male genitalia. Oh, and look at that, a post from “NeverNeedsALighter493” new number, same schtick. There were a few decent, genuine-sounding emails that she responded to, but none wrote back. What gives?!
Valentine’s Day drew ever nearer, and her third, fourth, fifth posts garnered the same responses. She set up two more meetings and had two more no-shows— one she swore she saw the guy peek his sout around the corner and then disappear. She started casting a wider net, posting in “Strictly Platonic,” “Misc Romance”, and even “Casual Encounters”. She wasn’t looking for a casual encounter, mind you, but she just wanted a real person! Her posts had degraded, too — “SPD looking for anything. Come on!”
Same responses, but this time even more male genitalia.
Leslie had had it with Craigslist. Unfortunately, now it was Valentine’s Day and despite her posts, her cute outfits and being stood up, here she was. As she cued up the first episode of the first season of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, resigned to start the series again from the beginning, she changed her mind. She opened up her laptop, brought up Craigslist, and started a new post — this time, though, it was in “Rants and Raves”.
Out of curiousity, she’d perused the room before and found it to be the domain of the lunatic paranoid, the right-wing conspiracist, and the furiously jaded. She turned her head, let out a hot, angry jet of flame, and decided she fit that last category.
Right out of the gate, she fumed, “Any male dragons on this site are a disgrace!” From there she let loose an assault of colorful invective that made her earlier jet of real fire seem like a cool breeze. When she finished, she didn’t click “submit” as much as she hammered it with a fist.
Responses came back fast and furious. Sure, there was the ubiquitous male genitalia (seriously, she thought, who the hell sends these?!) but there were also emails from women expressing “You go girl!” And “Set it on fire, my scaly sister!” For the first time since getting stood up by NeverNeedsALighter336, she showed her teeth in a genuine smile.
And then another email came in. The email was “KnightNDay43” and it matched Leslie’s rant for sheer anger.
“You think being a female dragon is bad? Try being a [explative removed] knight! For every purported damsel email (who never show, BTW) there’s countless bots and angry women with axes to grind — literally, they usually come out with axes. Who needs this [explative]?”
A knight? She pursed her mouth like she had bitten into a fire extinguisher. She moved for the delete button, but her claw hovered over the key… Slowly, she moved her talon over to “Reply.” As she started her reply, she told herself it wasn’t out of anything other than shared hatred for Craigslist users. It absolutely wasn’t about him — for gods’ sake, he was aknight! She was a dragon. “You’re right, KnightNDay43, it sucks all around for dragons and knights alike!” She rifled around her meager liquor cabinet and poured herself a shot of Fireball whiskey, and typed, “Alone on Valentine’s Day. Screw it! This shot’s to you, KnightNDay43!” And she hit send, then slugged back the cinnamon whiskey, which ignited halfway down her throat and literally burned.
He emailed back a picture of a shot glass of amber alcohol held poised in a chain mail gloved hand.
She opened a bottle of mead, poured herself a generous glass and wrote back, “What the hell is it with people and dragons, and everything?! Seriously?!”
He responded that he didn’t know but agreed, “People and mythical beasts suck. Present company excluded.”
That made her smile — in a, you know, jaded, angry, now slightly buzzed way. She responded, “Same.” And they kept emailing.
She didn’t remember how far after midnight they emailed. She didn’t remember which one asked for the other’s phone number, nor how or why they hatched a plan to commiserate over coffee. The next day, though, she did not wear a fierce skirt and boots, opting instead for her preferred Doc Martins and comfy jeans. She didn’t do her makeup before she left work — she didn’t even do her makeup before work. And her claws were chipped and she didn’t give an F.
But when she got to the coffee shop, he sat there early at a middle table, his helm occupying the seat next to him. She folded her wings against her body, pushed open the door and started inside. KnightNDay43 looked up, saw her, and smiled a smile that lit the room and melted her brimstone heart.This, she thought, is a good start.

Last Drink On The Columbia

This is inspired a little by SpaceX’s successful launch of the Falcon Heavy this week, and also visiting the Blue Max and telling family I miss them. I’d actually had this idea for a story for quite a while but wanted to see if I could flesh it out in a concise way and still get the idea across. I hope it does. Enjoy. 

Label: Fiction Danger: Profanity Ahead

“Requesting docking at service port A1, over.”

“Shit, is it that time already?” the voice cracked back over the radio.

“No, no, Tilly, I’m here early. I wanted one last drink before we shut her down.”

“Yeah, about that, Jen, Hoss still says he’s not leaving. What’s worse is he’s got a bunch of the regulars who say they’re sticking it out, too.”

Jen ran her gaze across the spherical space station bristling with docking tubes at every angle like an outer space sea urchin. At the end of at least half a dozen tubes antiquated space ships remained docked. She sighed audibly into the mic, “This isn’t an option, Tilly. The Columbia is going to re-enter and there isn’t anything we can do about it.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m outa here as soon as my shift is over, but try telling that to Hoss.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” she said, then more formally, “Requesting docking at service port A1.”

“Yeah, Jen, you’re fine.”

“I want to hear you say it one last time.”

The girl’s laugh rang over the com, then she coughed and affected a serious tone. “Roger that, Tug D3975. You are cleared to land at Columbia service port A1. Landing port is green, over.”

Jen turned her tug towards the tube marked with the flashing green lights. She carefully slowed for docking and smiled at the maneuver – just about every other station had moved to auto-docking sequences, but seeing as the Columbia had been slated for decommissioning twenty years ago they never retrofitted the new systems. That also necessarily limited the Columbia’s clientele to pilots who could manually dock their craft, which to hear Hoss tell it, was just fine. The tubes airlock bumped against the hull of Jen’s tug and she waited to hear the anchor claws engage before she flipped the systems to standby and unfastened her harness. She drifted back to the starboard port where three indicators glowed green indicating her ship was properly anchored, she was now on station air and power, and that the port could be safely opened. Turning the handle, the hatch irised open and she floated down into the station tube using the rungs of a ladder to guide herself down towards the station proper, flipping her body around as she neared the end just as the stations gravity tugged at her boots. A moment later she heavily decended the final rungs to the floor. In the gravity she gingerly squatted a few times as if to remind her legs of their normal gravity purpose.

From the corridor ahead she heard the crooning of Willie Nelson singing, “Turn out the lights, the party’s over. They say all good things must end…” “Oh shit,” she thought as she walked towards the center of the station. The corridor opened onto a genuine bar that wouldn’t have been out of place in the habitable Earth cities, which, in fact, it was modeled after. A dark simulated-wood bar dominated one end of the room, only a few of its barstools occupied. Most of the low round tables scattered around the room sat empty, but a few older couples sat here and there nursing drinks and tapping their feet to the music.

As Willie Nelson faded from the speakers, a new song started with a bell ringing and then, “Hellllllooooo Baby,” “The Big Bopper, Hoss? Seriously?”

The huge man behind the bar looked up from a conversation with a patron at the bar and called across the room, “What? You got a problem with Chantilly Lace?” He waited for the beat then picked up the song and sang towards Jen, “Ain’t nothin’ in the world like a big eyed girl, make me act so funny, make me spend my money, make me feel real loose like a long necked goose — aww baby, that’s what I like!”

“You’re a pig, Hoss.”

“I haven’t denied that the 45 years I’ve been running this station and I’m not going to start on the last night.”

“Ah, so you acknowledge it’s the last night, then!”

“Oh, I acknowledge it, Jenny,” he paused. “But I still ain’t leaving.”

Jen took a seat at the bar and Hoss automatically poured her a whiskey and 7-up. “Hoss, you are leaving. And what the hell are all these people doing here still? I’ve got to decommission this thing in…” she looked at her watch, “three hours.”

Hoss looked at her, then turned to the silver-haired man next to her at the bar. “How do you like that, Johnny? The bastards send my own niece to push my bar into the atmosphere. That ain’t fair.” He shook his head.

Jen leaned forward and stabbed her finger at him, “Don’t you start, Hoss. You know damn well it was me that got Earth Orbital to ignore you for the last 18 months!”

His face softened. “I know, Jenny, I know. And I appreciate it,” he held up his hands defensively, “I do. I just don’t see why you’ve got to push my station in.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hoss, we’ve been over this – you’re going to burn up in 24 hours anyway. I’m here to make sure the station re-enters in trajectory certain to burn up over an uninhabitable part of Earth.” She sipped her drink and added under her breath, “not that there’s a lot of inhabitable Earth left.”

“This place is historical, Jenny. It’s the last Bigalow…”

“The last Bigalow inflatable hab, I know, Hoss. Earth Orbital turned down your request. And your appeal. And the appeal of the appeal…” she took a sip of her drink, then set it down. She sighed again, “Shit, Hoss, give me a shot.”

“I’ve only got Jim left,” he picked up a bottle of Jim Bean.

Jen nodded, waited for Hoss to pour the shot. She slugged the whiskey down, shuddered once, then set the glass back on the bar and chased it with another sip from her seven and seven.

“Hoss,” she said finally in a more subdued voice, “this is it.”

“I know, Jenny.”

“Then why aren’t you ready to go? Why haven’t you kicked everyone out?”

“Because we’re not going anywhere.”

Jen’s eyes widened in realization, “Hoss! No! You… no, that’s not an option!”

“Jenny,” he smiled broadly at her, “It’s not your choice. It’s mine. And everyone here wants to stay.”

“Hoss, no! I won’t allow it!”

“It’s not up to you.” Jen started another protest, but Hoss cut her off, “Jenny, there’s no place out here for us. What am I gonna do? Bartend in one of those goddamn hipster bars on Earth Orbital Prime? I don’t think so.”

“What about traveling? You haven’t ever been beyond Mars, Hoss…”

“Jenny, I was born on Earth. This is where I belong. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jen was about to argue something else when a short blonde-haired girl came in, “Hoss, I’m leaving.”

“Alright, Tilly,” he said, moving around the bar where she threw her arms around him and hugged him for a long time. After long moments she broke the embrace and wiped at the tears on her face.

“You sure, Hoss?” she said with a sniffle. He nodded. “Sure-sure?” He nodded again more solemnly. She hugged him again and when she separated she didn’t even bother wiping her tears away. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Bah, you’ll just miss the free drinks,” Hoss scoffed.

She smiled a sad smile as the tears rolled down her rosy cheeks. “Thank you…” she managed, “for everything.”

“You bet, Tilly,” he said, his voice cracking. When he had himself under control again, he started, “You head out now, okay?”

She smiled at him and nodded, sniffled, then looked around the bar one last time, turned and headed down a corridor out of sight.

“Best dispatcher I had,” he said, sitting heavily on the barstool next to Jen, his gray bar apron covering his generous stomach. “Well, I mean, you know, since Lorraine passed away…” He smiled at a memory, then looked up at Jen and she could see a tear start to escape his eye. “I’m going to see her again soon, Jenny.”

“Hoss…” she put her hand on his big arm.

He closed his eyes to forestall any more tears but shook his head. “This has been my home for the last 45 years, Jenny.” He nodded to the white haired man on her other side, “Johnny’s been coming here for at least 20 years of those 45.”

“35, Hoss,” Johnny corrected.

“Dale and Linda,” he indicated the couple at the table closest to them, “what’s it been? 25 years?”

The old couple looked at each other and an entire conversation passed between them without either saying a word. “27 years,” Dale said.

“Hoss…” Jen tried again.

“Jenny, it’s fine. It is. This is my home,” he said setting a wide hand on the bar. His tone shifted to nostalgia, “Did you know this isn’t wood? It’s metal they painted, but I never thought—”

“—it looked like wood so you and Aunt Lorraine hand stenciled the wood grain over every inch,” she picked up the story. Hoss started to add something and they both said at the same time, “even the underside that no one will ever see.” She smiled. “I know, Hoss. I know.” Now it was her turn to fight back tears. “Hoss, really, I can’t…”

“It’s okay Jenny. Really. We want this.” Every head in the room nodded acknowledgement.

She looked at her watch, then downed the remainder of her drink in one hard swallow and turned and threw her arms around Hoss. “Goddamn it, you stubborn oaf,” she whispered through her tears.

“I love you too, Jenny,” he returned with a sniffle. “You be good, okay?”

“I’ll try, Hoss.”

“You will.”

She broke their embrace. “Hoss, are you sure…?”

“Go on now, Jenny. It’s okay.”

She balled her fists and ground her teeth in frustration. “Damnit, Hoss!”

“Jenny, go on now.”

She sighed as Fat’s Domino’s “Blueberry Hill” started on the speakers. She turned and walked slowly to her corridor. When she turned around Hoss was back behind the bar, topping off Johnny’s neat whiskey. “I love you, Hoss.”

“I love you, Jenny,” he returned, then turned and took a bottle of Scotch to one of the tables.

She buckled herself into her ship and flipped the power back on and thumbed the de-coupling switch. Jen backed the ship up and energized the front bumper while she brought the huge pusher engines online. A light on the console flipped green indicating the bumper was solid and a moment later a chime indicated the pusher engines were ready. She maneuvered the tug to a rigid side of the station and gently let the bumper tap the side of the station before goosing the maneuvering jets to make sure she had purchase on the station before flipping a switch to magnetically lock the bumper to the station. The hull shuddered as it fixed itself to the bulkhead. She moved her right hand over to the pusher engine throttle levers and brought them just off of idle. She checked the computer to make sure her trajectory would push the station the proper direction. She nudged a joystick to rotate her pitch slightly then she moved back to the throttle levers… and paused.

She thought of Hoss. Of the regulars. Of Willie Nelson playing on the speakers. Goddamn, Hoss…

She pushed the throttles forward to idle and pressed the emergency release button. The tug shuddered as the bumper decoupled from the station. She touched her anchor button and let her tug sit stationary in space. In front of her the Columbia began to drift away in its ever-degrading orbit. She reached for her bag and the flask of Jack Daniels.  As the Columbia grew smaller she sipped at the flask. A few minutes later, she watched the spiky station disappear around the curvature Earth, and she closed her eyes. She suspected it still had a few orbits before the atmosphere’s drag would pull it in, but it was inevitable….

Jen capped the flask, placed it back in her bag. She switched over to Earth Orbital’s main channel and waited for the transmission already in progress to finish. Then she keyed her mic and said, “Tug D3975 to Earth Orbital, Station Columbia has been decommissioned.”

“Roger that, Tug D3975,” the monotone male voice returned.

Jen sighed as she changed her heading towards Leopold Station which had requested an altitude adjustment to avoid orbiting debris. First, though, she brought up her music library on her headset and sang “Hellooooo Baby!” along with The Big Bopper as she started towards the gleaming white station in the distance. “Chantilly lace had a pretty face and pony tail hanging down…”