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Who Wants to Date an Alien?
Video screens in thirty-five planetary systems lit up with a bootleg broadcast.
"And now it's time for the second episode of 'Who Wants to Date an Alien?' with your host, the universe's one, the universe's only, Schmecky the Green Tentacle," announced Froop, a bipedal humanoid lizard with sibilant singing S's and smiling rows of sharp teeth. A heavy metal band from Alpha Centauri, the Lusty Worms, played the show's theme song: Neutrinos Do It Faster Than Light.
Thirty-five planetary governments stirred, searching for the hidden TV studio.
Schmecky the Green Tentacle jumped up and down on three pediment-like limbs. His eyes rolled around his cylindrical body, and when they bumped together, spaghetti-like arms with paddle-like hands popped out of the sides of his body to wave at the cameras. He oozed insincere charm into the camera while performing a soft shoe with top hat and cane.
"Listen up all you dating fans. Get your planetary orifices in gear and slap yourselves into orgasm. It's time to activate the teleport and snatch an unsuspecting date. Hold on to your hats because here we go!"
Canned applause filled the room as he punched a giant button next to the transport platform. Electronic doohickeys with digital lights blinked, huge levers shifted, massive gears turned, electric arcs sparked and crackled. Hidden offstage a computer-controlled microswitch activated the transport field. It created a wormhole above the transport platform.
"Tell our faithful audience who's today's lucky contestant," Schmecky the giant green tentacle said into the camera. Fake graphics zoomed through a galaxy and centered on the planet Earth. Froop's face appeared beside the graphic.
"Today, we're going to a lovely, marble blue and white, water-covered forbidden planet," Froop's voice deepened dramatically and rose in emotional intensity, "orbiting a plain yellow sun in the Milky Way Galaxy. There we will find one lucky human male who will be our contestant on 'Who wants to date an Alien.'" He waited for recorded applause cheers and continued, his clawed hands on his stubby arms waving to match his excitement-filled ending: "Will this be his first interstellar date? Will he find the mate of a lifetime?" For the second time the useless stage props whirled, flashed, beeped and buzzed. The camera did a fast-cut to Schmecky.
"And what does this human male look like?" the Tentacle asked pretending the answer was the most important thing in the entire universe.
"You would think that evolution on a world covered three-quarters by water would be a fish? But no! For reasons known only to the Galactic Council in their too obvious not-wisdom, the denizens of this planet are hairless bipeds descended from monkeys with two of everything except brains and penises. Isn't that just too subversive for evolutionary happenstance?" Froop declaimed.
"Two?" Schmecky asked in silly tones.
"Two arms, two legs, two ears, two eyes, and best of all, two orifices." The fake audience snickered and tittered at Froop's pronouncement.
"Two testicles and one penis! Just too exciting!" Schmecky's body sprouted two dozen arms before returning to tentacular form. He tittered on: "Too, naughty, too silly, too coincidental. You haven't been probing aliens on other planets with my noodley tool again? You know the Galactic Council forbids DNA transfer between sentients and farm animals." Hoots and wolf-whistles from the pretend audience matched his subversive comments.
"What the Galactic Council doesn't know doesn't harm me or their cushy jobs and paid off yes-men," Froop retorted. More hoots. More whistles.
Schmecky turned his tentacular body into a semblance of bipedal humanity and bounced on two legs like a mound of over-excited crazed Jello. Behind him, the transport device materialized a human body-- a muscular young man, dripping water from a shower. Fake cheers filled the studio, and Schmecky screamed into his microphone.
"Here he is adorably naked, almost hairless muscle, two huge testicles, and a stunning penis--" a pause for dramatic effect, "--the bipedal ape man from Earth."
For the first time in his twenty-four years, Clem Jones stuttered.
"What the hell?" he said, staring at the tubular alien creature with big eyes, mouth, squirming tendrils, moving towards him.
"Welcome, welcome, welcome Earthling. You are our celebrity contestant on the interplanetary hit show 'Who Wants to Date an Alien.'"
"Christ was I drunk last night," Clem mumbled.
The cultural significance of waking up drunk was lost on the inhabitants of thirty-three planetary systems who thought sobriety should be declared a crime. However, two planetary systems, normally not hung-over, prepared preemptive bids.
A wall of video screens displayed Clem's body. Flying cameras buzzed around him like mosquitoes with eyes. He searched for a towel but there was none. He was bare-ass naked for all to see. Adding to the unreality, the tubular alien creature babbled like an afternoon game show host.
"Already, millions of adoring fans from thirty-five planets are bidding for a date with you." The fake audience laughed and cheered while Schmecky wiggled a happy dance to various toots, whistles, and beeps. "Will they give you riches beyond imagination, or passion beyond your wildest dreams, or will it be a drunken promise followed by cheap sex, a shotgun wedding, a rocky marriage, a quickie divorce and years in therapy? Tonight, we're going to find the answer to that burning question." He let a beat pass, and then: "How's that for a kick in the old splorchnick?"
Clem hadn't a clue.
"What's a splorchnick?" He sounded stupid, not clever as Schmecky hoped. The cameras continued recording every move of his 225-pound body and Schmecky didn't miss a beat.
"Isn't he fun! Look at those dark eyes. Why my whole body quivers every time I hear that husky voice. And the muscles, oooh the muscles! We just love big arms, thick thighs, and washboard abs." The fake audience applauded as close-ups of Clem's anatomy appeared on the video screens.
At some unseen cue, The images on the screen looped and repeated, zooming left to half the screen while Froop and what looked like money numbers appeared on the right. Clem didn't understand the language, but it was evident that people were bidding for a "date" with him. There was an interlude of some god-awful alien music and they were off-camera. Schmecky's demeanor changed from maniacally wild and crazy to serious.
"Am I dreaming?" Clem asked. The giant green tentacle spoke in a flat voice filled with sarcasm.
"Look, dude, this isn't a dream. This is real. I'm Schmecky. He's Froop. We transported you through a wormhole with the express purpose of auctioning you to the highest bidder."
"What's in it for me besides the world's worst hangover?"
"You'll get a new life and a share of the money." It extended a tentacle, formed a hand and snapped in Clem's face. "Right now, you're acting as interesting as a lump of excrement from the ass end of a bureaucrat. Act like you're sexy."
Clem gestured as if he had something to say but words seemed inadequate. He smiled, flexed his muscles to think of what might sound sensible. The non-existent crowd cheered, signaling the end of Froop's portion of the broadcast. Schmecky launched into his on-air persona and poked a microphone at Clem's face.
"Tell us your name or should I call you hot, or luscious, or sexy."
Clem mumbled. The universal translator didn't. Clem cleared his throat and tried again.
"Uh Clem, Clem Jones."
"Welcome, Uh-Clem." Confetti and streamers fell around them.
"Not Uh-Clem, just Clem." He felt stupid, again.
Schmecky turned to the camera and spoke in a hot and sultry voice.
"Well doesn't that jingle-jangle your erogenous zones? Remember all you prospective bidders out there; it's Just-Clem when you're screaming his name in the throes of passion."
Clem threw his hands up, frustrated. "My name is Clem. Not Just-Clem, Not Uh-Clem. It's Clem."
The alien's eyes flashed red. "Forgive my government-issue translator, Clem. Seriously Clem. Are you sure, Clem? Like, gag me with a spoon, Clem. What a dreadfully unimaginative name, Clem, for such a sexy body, Clem."
"That's my name. Don't wear it out." Clem interjected.
"Names never wear out except for Gorwornkfart of the Galactic Council. He invented writing his name on tiny squares of paper with his excrement and dropping the papers into the oceans in hopes of getting prizes and riches." The alien shrieked at the joke like a star-struck schoolgirl "That was his gig before his planet invented flush toilets." The fake crowd cheered. Clem didn't understand. His eyes went to the computers where numbers flashed and changed as fast as scandal-starved paparazzi took snapshots of a naked celebrity.
"Are those the bids for me?"
"Of course, stud." Schmecky made fart noises emanate from his body. "I once dated a screen from the planet Floogle, and I got to tell you, it's tough to tango with a two-dimensional being." The pretend audience laughed and hooted.
"I dated a wallflower once." Clem tried. The alien didn't answer. Instead, it stretched out a tentacle and pointed to one screen.
"That's the bid from the Dowager Empress SemiTatti of Planet Blorkney orbiting Sigma Ori in your constellation Orion. If she wins, you're in for one big bang. When she reaches orgasm, a supernova is born. Let's give her something explosive." Schmecky put one tentacle around Clem's manhood squeezed rhythmically. It obliged and grew stiff. Images of his near erection flashed to millions of video screens on thirty-five planets. The show's jingle came on and the images Clem's body faded to the interstellar equivalent of a salad shooter commercial with an orange-colored, three-armed creature dicing odd things that might have been vegetables.
Schmecky and Clem had a few minutes.
"What do you do in your world?" Schmecky asked.
"I'm a re-enactor for colonial fairs."
"Seriously? Your government let's you perform useless frippery like that?"
"In real life, I'm a blacksmith. I beat red-hot iron into steel and shoe horses. It's honest work; hot, sweaty, but good for the muscles." Schmecky's eyes rolled sarcastically, but he stayed focused.
"In this next segment, try to be interesting. Tell the cameras that you're a sex worker for hire. They'll eat that up. If you talk about this blacksmithing, talk in terms of beating steel like you beat your meat. We'll keep the split screens so Froop can update the bidding." Schmecky turned to a single camera and got ready.
"This really isn't a dream or some elaborate joke," Clem said to Froop, the lizard man. Its eyes turned harsh and indignant.
"A dream? A joke? We are dangerous and savage rebels. This is, the greatest act of dissent in the five galaxies." His sibilant S's made him sound less than serious. English apparently wasn't his first language. "To do this, we hijacked the video feeds of thirty-five solar systems. If we succeed, we will be rich beyond the dreams of avarice. If we fail, we will be criminals in four galaxies, banned in another ten. If they catch us, They will teleport us inches above the event horizon of a black hole." It might have been an effective and believable speech if Froop's voice was less lispy and not sickeningly sonorous. Clem doubted the dangerous and savage part. If they were truly dangerous and savage revolutionaries, they would be planting bombs and not playing Yenta the Matchmaker.
"Evil Overlords don't monologue like that," Clem said. Froop didn't understand sarcasm. Neither did Schmecky who didn't laugh but turned angry crimson red.
"Don't screw with us, Earthman Clem." The tentacle tried to act tough. Clem dismissed him.
"On my planet you would be an afternoon TV show."
The alien's flexible body writhed and twisted in anger.
"Our government leaders are insecure fools and don't have the maturity to invent game shows. Don't think that we plucked you at random. You represent the most forbidden DNA in five galaxies."
Surprised, Clem wanted to dig deeper into that genetic remark. However, the show's theme music cut off his words. Schmecky assumed his on-air persona.
"Froop, give us an update of the bidding from all those interested worlds out there." Spotlights and cameras shifted to the lizard-man.
"Good news, Schmecky old pal, old buddy. We have our first bidding war of the night." The video screens showed two animated coats of arms, one pinkish and the other greenish, battling each other. "The Feline Floozies of Babylon have engaged in spirited thrusting and parrying bidding war with the Fang's Factions of Pi Scorpii the Triple Star. Look at those bids climbing into the stratosphere. They're battling for our contestant, the well-hung, well-endowed Clem."
Cameras shifted back to Clem, and he struck a series of poses he remembered from porn flicks back on earth.
"You gots to love the Feline Floozies Queen, Clem. She never seems to age and has the best parties I've ever been thrown out of. Too bad they never told her lovers that her sexual cycle is a five-year festival of orgasms for you and all her kittens and pussycats." Schmecky turned to Clem dramatically. "Do you think you could handle five years of non-stop orgasms without losing your head?" Clem responded by stroking his manhood for the cameras.
"Five years might leave little Clem ragged."
"But what a way to bump and grind it!" Schmecky celebrated with a happy dance. Clem figured out the rhythm so he could sway and bounce. He mimicked Schmecky's moves to the delight of the unseen audience. When he shook his bare butt at the camera, the fake audience went crazy. He gave Schmecky a butt bump. The creature felt firmer than Jello and smelled sexy. Clem's manhood drooled.
"I'm interested in knowing about the other bid."
"That's Pi Scorpii. It's a manly tropical paradise compared to the Feline Floozies' Babylon. They worship well-muscled man-flesh and hard erections. The Pi Scorpii-ians want to fill their planet with bucolic shepherds."
"So Pi Scorpii is a planet of hard bodies?" Clem asked.
"Just like you and from the bidding, they want you, the freshest primo man hunk in the galaxy. Imagine a world eager to fondle your butt, lick your stiff pole, and begging to kiss your gorgeous red lips." Schmecky flirted.
"I never thought I was irresistible," Clem said, pushing his hips and stiffening manhood against the alien.
"Darling, I can't resist another minute!" Schmecky pressed his body against Clem's torso and extended two arm-like tentacles around him. He exuded aphrodisiacs and pheromones. Not realizing the chemical trap, Clem leaned into the alien and mugged for the camera, humping his hips in and out. The alien's midsection opened and gripped Clem's torso, formed a giant receptacle for the now unavoidable orgasm. Alien chemicals drove Clem toward an eyes-closed, heart-racing, testicles-screaming climax. Clem's body stiffened and pulsed, his knees crumbled. Great gouts of sperm burst from him and into Schmecky.
For his big moment on camera, Schmecky screamed like a high-school virgin being deflowered but held Clem tight, only pretending to crumble into a quivering pole of jelly. The alien's body drained the sperm from Clem's testicles. He maintained the act of passionate, frantic behavior even as the fog of passion cleared from Clem's mind. His alien tentacles wiping the sweat from Clem's face, neck and shoulders with long and absorbent tongues created just to arouse the audience. He left Clem's body fiery red and his manhood hard, still pulsing for the cameras.
"That was an orgasm to end all orgasms," Clem gasped.
"You are one hot, hairy ape man. Let's give the audience a replay of all that action while we catch our breath."
Quick cuts and multiple edits replayed portions of their tryst. Cameras caught the spurting of his copious DNA-laden material inside the alien's semi-transparent body. Banners and scrolls showed the bidding for Clem. Schmecky and Froop gave each knowing looks behind Clem's back. Schmecky moved in for a repeat performance. He wanted a second go at the big O but Clem pushed away.
"His anatomy don't work like that. Give the boy a rest," Froop said. He poked at Schmecky's body and separated them. Clem stood on stage with his half-erect member bobbing to his heartbeat. He felt alone. The floating cameras weren't recording him. The attention was on the bidding. Froop leaned against Clem. After Schmecky, his scaly skin felt cold, rough, scratchy. Froop offered him a cigarette and airline-sized bottles of cheap whiskey.
"Smokes? Booze?" he asked. Clem drank two small bottles. Froop lit two cigarettes and offered one to Clem.
"The Tentacle don't smoke, bad for his lungs. I smoke enough for us both."
Clem shrugged. The Tentacle didn't appear to have lungs, but he wasn't going to argue. He puffed the cigarette. It tasted of cabbage and kudzu flavored with stinkweed. Coughing, he threw it into a disposal chute.
"Tastes like pressed horse shit," he scowled. Froop laughed. Nervous, Clem talked through his thoughts: "Yesterday, I didn't believe in alien abduction, and today I'm naked on an intergalactic television show having public sex with an alien. You sure I'm not locked away in a mental hospital back on Earth?" Clem asked.
"Before you think too hard about wearing white for your fairy-tale wedding or renting the honeymoon suite for a non-stop, multi-orgasmic wedding night, take a gander at those bids. That's the reason you're here," Froop said. The high bids from Pi Scorpii and Babylon were above ten figures and playing leapfrog as they watched. Suddenly, the screens went blank. Froop's embedded communications device buzzed loud enough for Clem to hear. The lizard frowned.
"Government agents found our primary transmitter and cut the live broadcast. They're searching for the backup transmitter and the auction servers. The networks are fighting to keep us on the air but without some leverage other than ratings, we're screwed," Froop said. Clem's eyes narrowed and his face hardened. He ruined his serious pose by scratching his balls before he put his hands on his hips. Diplomacy and subtlety weren't in his toolbox. Suspicion, however, was nagging his thoughts.
"This isn't just about money. You've been using me to mock the government and make fools of them," Clem said. Schmecky winked and wiggled and twitched seductively. His body language said; It doesn't matter.
"Took you long enough to figure that out," Froop answered. Again, Froop's lizard-like face grimaced as the remote earpiece chattered.
"News reports that the Pi Scorpii-ians are activating their teleport."
"I told you the fools would try a snatch," Schmecky blurted in panicked tones. He ran to the controls of the transport field apparatus and doubled-checked the shielding, his big eyes rolling and his body twitching in fear.
"Can they transport me out of here?" Clem asked.
"Hey, earthman, we're in a protected spaceship at your sun's Lagrange point," Froop answered, sarcastic.
"Never hurts to check. I don't want any surprises." Schmecky shrieked, sounding even more panicked.
"Calm down. He has to be standing on the transport platform's grid," Froop yelled. Schmecky didn't listen.
"I don't care if the authorities find us. I've got his human DNA and I'll never part with it. I ain't cheap, you know. I don't mate with just any alien. And you, you jealous bastard, you better fulfill our deal," His color changed from blue to yellow to pale green. This was more than completely incongruous and bizarre. It was surreal and becoming more surreal. He was involved in something more than merely an illicit dating game. Froop continued and insulted the Tentacle like a wounded lover and Schmecky bitched back at him.
"Don't take no airs with me, Honey-buns. I found you hanging off a trapeze in the biggest whorehouse on Rigel 6 giving oral sex to the Rat Brothers, all twelve of them. As I recall, it took us three months to chemically scrub rat sperm out of your body."
Clem squirmed and looked away, uneasy. Schmecky had tears in his big, cartoonish eyes as he turned hot pink, embarrassed.
"Never trust a lounge lizard. They'll break your heart every time," Schmecky said and burst into tears. Clem didn't want to laugh and covered his face with his hands desperate to hide.
Froop jumped as the earpiece chattered again.
"Good news!" the lizard yelled, holding his clawed hand tight to his ear pit and listening to the communications feed. "Our ratings are so high that the network executives grew backbones and told the diplomats to shove their puritanical hoo-hah bans up their collective third anuses. We're back on the air with a six-second tape delay."
The once-blank video screens filled with broadcasts replaying Schmecky and Clem. This time, black boxes censored their naughty bits. The images looked more vulgar than before because of the sheer stupidity of the censorship.
"That might have been the best orgasm I've ever had," Clem said. Both aliens harrumphed him. Clem shut up and took to surfing the vid screens for news. He found an odd story about rocket trails circling the smallest moon of Pi Scorpii. He didn't understand the language, but the orbital graphics were unmistakable. A second news story showed a grid on that same moon. It looked like the grid in the transport chamber but was as big as a mountain. It seemed conspiratorially guilty.
"What does this grid mean?" Clem asked, pointing to the screen with the moon image. Schmecky's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Tie-dyed colors flowed through his body. Froop gave the Tentacle the galactic equivalent of the bird.
"You son-of-a-bitch, did you snitch about our plans," Froop snarled in a beastly roar. Schmecky's bizarre gestures and colors stopped, and he stayed silent. The lizard-man screamed at him. "Did you bribe Pi Scorpii?"
"Well!" he gestured like an offended lover, "I would never take a bribe from a planetary government but I might have made a deal."
"Yeah because that would be a truly, really, unbelievably dangerous game to play." The lizard folded his arms and tapped a foot for too long. All at once, its head jerked back and up like a light bulb went off in its brain. "How big a deal?" Froop asked, no longer angry. Schmecky winked.
"They get an earthman," a pause, "and we get every thing we want. Guaranteed!" Schmecky's coloration flashed gold and silver in delight.
"I thought I was being auctioned," Clem said.
Both aliens gave him the "crap are you stupid" look.
"Of course not. This is our greatest scheme-- auctioning the most desirable DNA in the entire galaxy. That part is real. The game show was the excuse to set it all in motion, Earthman," Schmecky answered. Schmecky channel-surfed for additional news about the mountain on Pi Scorpii's moon. Froop crossed his short arms as well as he could and tried to look casual. He sat at a console, puffing cigarettes down to butts. Clem stared at him, seeking an answer. Minutes passed before he spoke.
"Before you ask, the Galactic Council decided that the most subversive substance and practices in the galaxy come from human DNA and the cultures it brings. We were the only dissenters capable of destroying the ban."
Stunned by the revelation, Clem pieced together the alien plot. His testicles were weapons of mass destruction, his cock the delivery system, and his sperm capable of overthrowing the Galactic Council. He covered his genitals with both hands and blushed.
Froop jumped, clutching his earpiece. Schmecky squealed and started an elapsed-time clock.
"Froop darling, the mountain with the grid, it just disappeared."
"Of course it did, ding-dong. Every channel is screaming about it. The diplomats are humping their monitors at the thoughts of being forced to do diplomacy. Damn, are they pissed off."
"Yeah! The network execs are screaming like banshees. Our ratings are climbing beyond anything ever seen. Three planetary systems just declared us criminals. Another four declared us heroes."
"We're winning. They're appalled." Both aliens laughed and celebrated their success, Schmecky getting increasingly manic, Froop laughing like an idiot. Paranoia danced with fear in Clem's head.
"Can they drop that mountain on us?" Clem asked.
Both Froop and Schmecky turned and glared at him. Froop was calm, but Schmecky lost it. Hidden emotional currents took hold and his big eyes filled with tears while his tubular body turned vile shades of blue and purple.
"We told you, we're hidden," Froop answered, disgusted.
"It really isn't all about you even when it is all about you," Schmecky said, speaking in tones one would ignorantly think came from the mouth of a hormonal woman.
"Sorry, I'm not used to being in space. Can you locate the mountain?"
"It's in hyperspace," Froop said automatically, not looking at Clem. "Transport takes one hundred thirty-five seconds." He threw his cigarette down and stomped it with palpable anger, folded his stubby arms, and nodded to Clem as if to say: "so there!"
Clem wondered why the two aliens suddenly turned emotional and unrestrained.
"Then what?" he asked.
"Then the mountain rematerializes," Froop said with his eyes fixed on Schmecky. Schmecky's color shifted from purple to lavender to pink and finally gold. His eyes rolled in circles. Clem noticed.
"I guess I ask too many dumb questions," Clem said. Schmecky freaked at the world dumb, quivering and shaking.
"Dumb? I hope that dumb isn't the genetic legacy you give our children. I hope our offspring aren't like those dumb bunny people with the tiny tyrannosaurus arms and fat stomachs that waddle around the streets with bottles in paper sacks, begging for coins while nobody even says hello." Dozens of thin, flaming red tendrils popped from his head like a giant fright wig. His voiced quavered hysterically. "What if they come out as fireplug people? You know those short people with the high waists and the giant rear ends that just stick out so far. Oh! Froop! What do we do? How will I face the world with the shame of ugly-assed children?"
"Aw Great Maker, you got to keep it together. Get control of your damn hormones." Froop grabbed Schmecky by what could have been his shoulders and shook him. The giant tentacle's features continued to shift hysterically between reds and oranges. He babbled something incoherent. The lizard slapped his face a couple of times.
Clem doubled over in laughter. Both aliens stopped and stared at him with puzzled expressions. He dismissed any of his doubts about being polite and blurted out what was on his mind.
"This is either the game show to beat all game shows or the drug trip to end all drug trips. These are the best hallucinations ever. I want some more of these drugs because DAMN they are really, really good. No one can teleport matter across the universe let alone whole mountains, can they? I mean, you're a talking lizard and what, a giant tube of Jello who's having a pregnant woman's hissy fit because it's bearing my children? I'll show you how cheesy this all is; I'll bet that mountain from the Pi Scorpii moon reappears over the Capital City of the Feline Floozies' planet. Right?" Clem said. Both alien stopped. Conflict ended. They smiled at each other, and ran to the control board to search the satellite feeds.
"Tell me the ape-man didn't just outsmart us," the lizard said.
"Fifty Quintnaks says he's right and another fifty Quintnaks that the Feline Floozies of Babylon fold like a cheap accordion before the mountain falls on their capital city," Schmecky said.
"No one is that stupid," Froop answered. Clem watched, silent. He scratched his balls and fidgeted on the sticky leather-like upholstery. The timer signaled the passage of one hundred thirty-five seconds.
The moon-mountain appeared 150,000 miles above the Floozies' capital city.
"You lost," Schmecky snarked. Froop cursed in his native language. Apparently, his built-in translator didn't translate epithets. The lizard continued to snarl and hiss, his tongue slithering, his muscles flexing and his tail rising as if it could strike. The spaceship's translation computer solved his anger and Clem heard English.
"We let ourselves get second-guessed by a human? A species barely evolved above baboons. His whole world is like a greeting card for the lower Eastside slums of the Milky Way. It smells of piss and shit washed into their oceans. When you look close you see rats waddling around the sewer grates. Half of them still live in--" Froop pulled the device out of his ear pit as the diplomatic channels shrieked from it. A multitude of diplomatic voices screamed in total incoherence at each other.
Schmecky tuned into scenes of the mountain as it fell toward Babylon's capital city. The atmosphere ripped rocks from it. Ocean tides rose over the coastline. Lightning shattered the sky. Clem got his first look at the furry pink females of Babylon as they ran through the pink streets trying to leave the capital city before the mountain fell on them. He didn't see any males on the planet but that didn't register in his mind. His thoughts turned to the physics of the situation. He figured out what the Pi Scorpii-ians were going to do.
"How fast could Pi Scorpii-ians stop the mountain from hitting the planet?" Clem asked.
"Nothing stops gravity," Froop snarled, pissed off at losing Schmecky's bet.
"It takes two minutes and twenty-nine seconds to recharge the teleport's capacitors if their power supply has the charge," Schmecky answered.
"Calculate the impact time for the falling mountain and subtract that time from impact. That's the point of no return for Babylon to surrender. I'll bet that Pi Scorpii won't let the mountain crash because they can't be sure that I'd willingly join them after they cause such savage destruction. I could be wrong. It is possible that Babylon might not give up and possible Pi Scorpii doesn't care. I doubt that."
Froop brought up the computer terminal and programmed the information. The mathematical point of no return was four minutes away.
"Look at all those Feline Floozies, screaming and yelling in panic. They're going to be the best witnesses for Pi Scorpii-ians being the biggest, baddest hombres in the galaxy; those bastards outmaneuvered everyone." Schmecky said.
"Pretty savvy for a bunch of hick horn-dogs who like to raise farm animals and have sex several times a day but he's right, they aren't terrorists," Froop answered. He reinserted his ear piece and listened to the chatter.
"What do you hear?" Clem asked.
"Pi Scorpii just dictated the terms. Complete amnesty, lifting our persona-non-grata status, and no civil or criminal charges. Pi Scorpii guarantees Schmecky the Giant Tentacle a suitable planet and they're throwing in a million more Quintnaks than the Feline Floozies to go to Earth as reparations for Clem's kidnapping, including first contact and spaceflight. Additionally, they are demanding in very non-diplomatic terms that Prime Minister Gorwornkfart of the Galactic Council resign for no more reason than he's the ass-wipe of the Galaxy. Also, they want the head of Security Intergalactique Smutzpough Bureau to resign because he's disgraced his office as too stupid to prevent our disruptive video broadcast."
Clem listened, beaming smugness and self-satisfaction because he figured out the tactics.
"Well that's a good deal for me, isn't it? I mean, Babylon's ladies are cats, and I'm allergic. I'm going to enjoy the big-breasted, tough-as-nails Ladies of Fang's Factions of Pi-Scorpii, even with their spears and loincloths," he said.
Schmecky's eyes bugged two inches out of his face.
The lizard's eyes narrowed. His head bent to one side. Several heartbeats of silence filled the room. Schmecky stretched a tentacle out and touched Froop's cheek tenderly.
"Froop, Babykins darling, I'll forgive the 100 Quintnaks of lost bets and your insulting Rat Brothers of Rigel 6 remarks if you just say nothing," he said nonchalantly. Froop nodded, silent. Clem had a feeling that once again he spoke too soon, too much, or the wrong words. Today, he seemed gifted with foot in mouth disease. He grew more nervous as their silence stretched into nearly a minute.
Before Clem could ask a question, Froop's tiny hand flew up to the ear piece on the side of his head to hear more of the diplomatic exchange.
"The Feline Floozies officially withdrew their bid and the Pi Scorpii-ians transferred the money to our accounts. We win!"
The mountain falling toward Babylon's capital vanished in a puff a few thousand feet above the tops of the buildings. Schmecky and Froop cheered and congratulated each other. Clem, on the other hand, watched more closely. The mountain left a vacuum hole in the atmosphere that closed with concussive force. Clouds formed and blew apart. Buildings swayed. Roofs, parapets, and awnings crumpled and collapsed. A large chunk of the capital was damaged.
The networks followed with disaster footage. Images of crying survivors filled fifteen video screens. Clem didn't understand the language, but he'd seen it before; pathos, sentimentality, and mawkishness, all blended in one broadcast.
"Why did you kidnap me?" Clem asked, sad to see the consequences. Schmecky, however, grinned like an ass-hat.
"The sheep-like inhabitants of thirty-five planets live in what your history describes as medieval conclaves. They are indentured servants to rich, oligarchical masters. The Galactic Council fears humans because you create chaos and disorder that levels the playing field for all involved. Between your sperm donation to me and your effect on the Pi Scorpii race, your offspring will change the thirty-five planets," Schmecky said.
"We kicked the anthill square in the--" Froop unexpectedly joined the diplomats talking in his ear piece in a language Clem didn't understand.
Schmecky pulled Clem away from Froop. He was determined to explain the reasons for his teleport and the game show.
"Whatever you do, teach your offspring human ways. Teach them to spread those ways throughout the galaxy. Make them subversive. Change the universe. Do that for us." Schmecky's tendril snaked out and caressed his face. Clem pressed his hand against the tendril and shook his head in agreement.
"I think I finally understand you two," Clem said.
The transport apparatus beeped. Again electronic doohickeys blinked, levers and gears that did nothing but looked great, moved and equally useless electric arcs sparked as the transport field apparatus created a wormhole. A pallet of gold coins and gemstones appeared on the platform. Froop and Schmecky quickly moved it to another cabin in the spaceship.
The device activated a second time. Three tanned and virile Pi Scorpii-ian men at least six inches taller and fifty pounds more muscular than Clem appeared on the platform. Smiles covered their faces and bulges filled out their loincloths. They stepped up to Froop, Schmecky, and Clem. One of them winked at Schmecky, acknowledging their previous conspiratorial acquaintance.
"You're male?" Clem asked, startled, surprised. Froop and Schmecky snickered.
"What did you expect? Pussycats and kittens? Or lizards and amoebas like these two showmen? We're the real men of the galaxy."
"We even brought beer just like Earth beer," a second male answered.
For the second time in his life, Clem found himself speechless. He stood quiet, thinking. These Pi Scorpii-ians played bluff poker with an entire planet and won. They owned him. He decided boldness and strength was his best friend at this moment. He put on an attitude as bold as the Pi Scorpii-ians.
"I'm honored and proud to be the choice of boldest and brashest. I just got done telling these two fine impresarios that your race is the diplomatic bad boy of the galaxy now. I look forward to creating a new galactic order in the image of the warriors of Pi Scorpii. It's time to spread across thirty-five worlds."
His words hit the proper tone. He could see it on their faces.
"Hail father of the new Pi Scorpii. The world awaits you." They led him to the transport platform. He squared his shoulders and prepared to teleport to his new planet.
After all that, alone in their spaceship, Schmecky and Froop toasted their success with champagne. They transported the ship and their winnings in gold and sperm, to their new planet. In the years that followed Schmecky gave birth to 240 million children, one for each sperm that Clem deposited. His offspring became the entertainment juggernaut of the Thirty-Five galaxies.
Clem thrived on Pi Scorpii. He sired millions of children with the Pi Scorpii-ians. They turned into bold, brilliant leaders. In time, they took over the governance of the Thirty-Five Planets and not many years later controlled the Galactic Council. Together with the humans from Earth, they created the new galactic order after the best of two civilizations.
As for "Who Wants to Date an Alien," it never aired a third time and the universe lived happily ever-after without it.
3200 words more or less
FUTURES YET UNKNOWN
Ten Stories by Dave Fragments
*An Alien serial murderer and a furry detective with fleas.
*Murder on a world with altered humans.
*Disturbing apocalyptic visions *Monstrous dystopian societies.
*A man on trial for betraying the human race to robots.
*Devils, demons and ghosts.
*Survivors of a plague war.
*Cyborgs trying to be human.
*Six friends in a strange sinkhole.
*The truth about a world drowning in rain, without sun, without hope.
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