110619

Serving root beer at the reception
for the delegation from Vegetaria
a natural misunderstanding
a blunder of interstellar proportions

during the resulting war
terrestrial forests
concealed the advance guard
of the invasion force
until it was far too late

031419b

peeling the petals
to see if plant girl loves me
diplomatic incident

112718

Aid to the Colonies

I

All three girls were over 7 feet tall … it was hard to picture them naked. They had insisted the meeting take place in their habitat, which made him nervous even though it was essential to the plan. He patted his hip–the device was still there.

II

When Global’s agent shuffled in she knew something was wrong. Smelling trouble was Charis’ specialty. He looked her up and down and she shivered--he wasn't here to negotiate the contract. She wiped her hands on her coverall in distaste.

III

Cleone reviewed the security log for Global in her mind. They had tried some pretty weird stuff in the past. However, as far as customs had been able to tell, this agent was clean. But when he looked at her she knew something was wrong. Was he scoping them out for a raid?

IV

Diana was used to men's minds--but this guy was sick. What was that thing about cattle prods anyway?! How could that turn anyone on! And there was something else. Her eyes narrowed as she sifted through his thoughts. He was not really thinking about oral sex; that was covering something else. Something to do with his body. When she caught it she had to stifle her gag reflex.

I

Something was wrong. The chick on the left knew. How? It didn't matter. He tongued the trigger. His hip exploded. The pain was so great he couldn't breathe. The room was dim and canted at a high angle. Shit! Global had lied to him. At least the three frigid bitches were doomed too--they'd already breathed the spores.

III

Cleone started to roll out of her chair a fraction of a second before the Global agent exploded. She wasn't sure what had tipped her off. Partially cooked meat spattered the walls and ceiling. She could see what was left of the guy in the far corner of the room. Diana slumped in her chair, unmoving; Charis was wiping her hands on her ass. "Decon!" she snapped, and bounced up, grabbing the nape of Diana's coverall. She hustled the other two into the lock and the Decon cycle began. The procedure proved to be almost effective.

112218

we
are
thanking
you for gift
succulent envoys
have been much appreciated
one request: next time send only the young and plump please

111418b

lime
green
spacething
clashes with
its host's farmhouse walls
fits right in at the club downtown

070817c

like the fabled Americans of yore
Betelgeusei serve too much food
they're offended if you don't clean your plate
say you're saving it for Grandma
you'll get a 5-kilo "Granny bag"
better be prepared to produce her
fat and happy
when they come to call

061017

The walking dead

Eileen noticed that the ambassador was dead. Its normally scaly skin showed milky puckered patches where the scales had fallen off. In fact, it was shedding on the carpet. Its eyes were dull, not glassy, and all color had leached from its crest.

"Sir," she asked, "what happened?" Or was one supposed to pretend not to notice? She could not remember.

"I'd rather not talk about it, Deputy Commissioner Johnson," the Kaarshin replied. The tendrils around its mouth fluttered rapidly, but whether this was part of the decomposition process, or indicated some emotion, she didn't know. She'd only been on We're There a few months, and had not interacted much with the native species.

Smalltalk! What to say? "Well, uh, about your trip to the mountains. Will you be staying long?" Oh great, of course it was going to be staying long, it was going to stay forever.

"Just a few weeks, Deputy Commissioner. I have some family business to wrap up."

*

As soon as the ambassador left, Eileen hurried next door.

"Josh! What's going on? The ambassador, was it... dead? I've read about this, but..."

Josh put down his sandwich and pointed to his mouth. He was chewing a tremendous bite of corned beef on rye. Finally, he swallowed it and then picked up a glass of water. He took a long drink. By this time she was in a frenzy of impatience.

"Molting," he said, and picked up his sandwich.

"Oh. Now I feel so stupid." She went back to her office. The phone rang. It was Josh.

"Gotcha," he said. "No, he's dead all right. Been dead for about four days I would say, judging from the condition of his skin. Talk to you later." He hung up.

So was it like being a zombie? She felt sorry for it. It seemed like a long drawn out tortuous way to die.

*

After work, Eileen walked down to the Kaarshin quarter. She had never been to the narrow crooked streets flanked by tall windowless buildings. The older buildings leaned in over alleys strewn with fallen bricks. In the shadows, the walls were painted with primitive grace: herds of willowy creatures running, jumping, flying. The artists had used dozens of colors, but their choices were in no way lifelike. A mauve and lime green hidebuck, for instance, would be rendered as crimson and khaki on one wall and solid pink on another. She almost forgot to look at the Kaarshins, so taken was she with their wall art. But when she did focus on the people, she realized that at least half of them were ... deceased. Many had bleached, pitted skin. They were not simply maimed or disabled, they were ghosts in solid form. Some were missing limbs, were completely penetrated by holes, or were simply wearing down to the bone. Lying by a flight of stairs and leaning against the wall was what Eileen first took for a pile of trash. Then it moved, a brief, periodic, trembling, and she realized it was the limbless remnant of a Kaarshin. Why had she not noticed this? Why had no one said anything? It seemed to be in distress, so she squatted down beside it.

"Can I help you?" Realizing it might not understand English, she switched to Karsh and repeated her question. It rolled its eyes towards her, but said nothing. "I want to help you."

Something touched her shoulder. She screamed and leapt to her feet. It was the ambassador.

"It's you. This being seemed so sad or in pain. I wanted to help."

"You can do nothing. I assure you it feels no pain. This is a necessary process."

"I know you don't want to talk about it," she replied. Ambassador raised his hand.

"When some of our metabolic processes cease, others remain active. The body consumes itself to further the existence of the individual. We use this time to settle our affairs. Eventually, everything that must be done has been completed. At this time, an individual finds peace. For years, scholars argued about the deaths of humans. Most did not believe the stories you told. Some thought your species lived in denial; some thought we simply didn't understand your explanations, cloaked as they were in mythic language. Others thought you were misinformed. Finally the wise came to realize that you are the unfortunates you seem. Allow me to express my regrets. Your souls move to the next sphere with unsatisfied needs and unfinished business. This makes it very difficult for them to ascend and many never succeed."

Eileen left the native city and trudged up the hill towards the human settlement. Tonight would be a good time to visit her father.

Publ. The Simian Transcript (book), 2010

121116

Too late, Levon understood:

the Rigellian was the Embassy

the back door was its asshole,

the grand entrance, the lobby,

well, it wasn’t hope alone

that must be abandoned there

062216

shoe box embassy
can't afford rent on the
Terran budget

061916

hard to respect
a beach ball on chicken feet
ambassador