The Adventures of "Fish Guy" (Superhero fiction)

[Hermit]

And that's the last you'll see of Pogo's family...

 

EVER AGAIN!!!!

Okay, just kidding on the ever again, but as it stands that's their introduction into the universe such as it is and likely all you'll see of them in this Anthology.

 

[Hermit]

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure

(continued)

 

I have a car. It was old when I got it. I got a pretty good deal though as the seller was a friend of the family. It’s Cherry red and it has a ‘Honk if you Love Heroes’ bumpersticker on it. One nice thing about knowing a super scientist who makes her own power armor is that every now and then she sends in a little repair robot to keep it alive for another year. It’s got a few dents, but it’s mine.

And it has just enough space in the back for a truly huge wedding cake. Which is one of the reasons I was sure I could help. I set up a nice clean spot and everything.

Unfortunately while I’m now a legally recognized adult, I’m still a young woman, so I’m kind of stressing out that my boyfriend still hasn’t responded to my text! Fortunately, I had an alternative means of catching up with folks. My car has a glove box, not a surprise, but what some folks don’t know is I have a hidden box UNDER the box, and unless you have my thumb print, you’re not getting in even if you find it. I keep a spare costume there, and a spare communicator for the team.

It’s all very James Bond, and I love it! Oh where was I? Anyway I opened up the hidden compartment, got the communicator, and slid it into my ear. There was a brief slurp sound as it nestled into my ear and I listened for any chatter even as I began to drive towards the bakery with the cake.

“Check check check,” I announced as I drove, “Radio Free Pogo of the New Samaritans on the comm. Thanks for joining my podcast, where we’ll be talking cake walks and open talks. I’m on my incog-neato to grab a cake for the lucky bride and groom to be as agreed. If you’re enjoying the show, give me a call. Our number is 1-800- where the heck is everyone?”

I expected Mabel to respond, even though she’s no longer wired into everything so intimately as before, she was still in the city and that meant she was never really without her connection to us in this close a proximity especially. But there was no response from her. Weird, even if she were with someone, Mabel can multitask like nobody’s business and have several conversations going on at once, at least on this device.

In fact, I wasn't getting much of a response from anyone. The brain-weasels of anxiety were rising up to attack my spiritual butterflies of justice. I hit the gas pedal without even thinking about it. The faster I got the cake, the sooner I could get it delivered to the base for cold storage until it was needed.

The lack of response was ridiculous, there were two and a half teams of superheroes in the city right now, and a lot of them had access to our com line. I was tempted to turn the car towards the base and go there in case it was under attack. Some paranoid part of my mind tried to think of what I’d done to earn some kind of shunning from the others. I hate being shunned. The silent treatment drove me crazy when I was a kid. If you asked me what my nightmare power would be? It would be to be invisible and inaudible. I don’t think I’m a vainglorious attention seeker, others can have the limelight, but I sure do hate being left in the proverbial dark.

But I made a promise, and I try to keep those. So, I decided to stick to the cake retrieval plan. After finally achieving victory over my old enemy, the Fellowship of Evil Red Lights, I pulled into the parking lot of the small plaza that included the cake shop. Founded in 2007, ‘Honest Cakes’ (With subtitle ‘Our Cakes really ARE a Triumph’) had a solid reputation for quality, and more importantly in the superhero business, asking no questions beyond what type of cake you wanted. The New Samaritans had used them on and off before. Mind you, almost always in their secret identities, but the point is, these guys didn’t raise an eyebrow if you asked them for a cake with the words ‘Rot in Jail forever’ for some villain you finally put away.

Consequently, their discretion and creativity had also won them a steady customer base among the LGBTQ+ community, so there’s that!

Earpiece still inserted, I walked into Honest Cakes armed with my confirmation number and a smile. The only one at the counter was a laid back looking man wearing an apron that said ‘Honest Cakes’ over another shirt with some kind of old My Little Pony novelty shirt. He had a kindly smile and facial hair that had gone past five O clock shadow but I wouldn’t call it a beard. It was hard to place his age, he could have been anywhere from twenty six to thirty three.

His name tag said ‘Ted’ so I went with that.

“Hi, Ted? I’m here to pick up a cake?” Then I realized how little that narrowed it down given his line of work, “I mean, of course I’m here for a cake, that’s what you guys make. Oh wait,” I realized, “Of course, you also make cupcakes and pies, so sorry, didn’t mean to make it sound like you guys aren’t diverse, it’s just your cakes are really good and in your store name and I realize that just telling you I’m here for a cake pick up isn’t going to help you very much and I’m sorry about that.”

Aaaand I realized I still hadn’t said anything helpful.

“I’m having a very worrisome day,” I muttered as an equally less than helpful addendum.

“Hey,” Ted shrugged, gently, sounding incredibly relaxed, “I feel that. I had to pill Emperor Norton this morning, and not the fun kind. Y’know? Vet says its good for him, but now? He’s not talking to me. Very stressful to have a bro mad at you, right?”

Despite his concerns for his own shunning, I was a bit in awe at how at ease he sounded when he explained it. I’d met Buddhist monks that would have envied this level of casual zen Ted was exuding. He seemed truly aware of the ebbs and flows of life around him and willing to coast along serenely with a wisdom few possessed.

 

Or he was stoned. Possibly stoned.

 

“I take it, Emperor Norton is your cat?” I inquired, curious despite my aforementioned concerns and the cake mission in hand.

“Well,” Ted chuckled lazily, “Only in that I’m also his human. Yeah, you wanna see pictures of him?”

 

Did I want to see pictures of his cat? Despite the fact I was in my mind mannered (but also feisty and self assured) secret identity of a young Chinese-American Gal on the go, I was Pogo! I was a super-heroine, one on a mission no less, who needed to make a crucial pick up and delivery that others were relying on me on, even as, for all I knew, one or more of my team mates could be secretly in danger. And one of those at risk? My hot Canadian boyfriend! Did I have time to waste looking over some guy’s cat pictures?

 

“You bet I would!” I said, grateful for the distraction from my stress and worry. Also, come on, CAT PICTURES!!!

 

Emperor Norton, it turned out, was a Silver Tabby with ‘tude and very photogenic by feline standards. I oohed and awed for a bit, as Ted went on about his little furry buddy’s mannerisms and more.

“…and that's why I suspect he and I get along despite our political differences,” Ted finished up.

“He’s wonderful,” I assured him, then I realized it was time to get back to the tasks at hand, “Would a confirmation number help?”

“Oh sure,” Ted said, “Lay it on me.”

I gave him the number, he gave me the cake, and Ted was such a sweetie he even helped me load it up for maximum safety in the car.

 

“Thanks, Ted. My regards to the Emperor, don’t you worry, he still is your brah, and you’re looking after him. Sometimes we have to be firm with our loved ones about what is needed to keep them from greater harm. That’s not a failing on your part that it’s so, it’s just .. part of life.”

Ted nodded, “You’re right, you’re right. Just, I worry, you know?” He said though his expression was one who wouldn’t be worried if a gang war broke out near his ovens.

“I know,” I said gently, and backed the car up and started to head out. Sometimes folks know the answers already but they need to hear it from someone else. Other times they’re blind and deaf to the facts of things, not from malice, but because they take too much on their own shoulders.

 

My, but those folks can be frustrating to deal with.

 

(TBC)

[BoloOfEarth]

Woot!  We get to see Ted again!  And by proxy, Emperor Norton!  Bonus points!

[Hermit]

3 hours ago, BoloOfEarth said:

Woot!  We get to see Ted again!  And by proxy, Emperor Norton!  Bonus points!

 

Emperor Norton lives!

 

Oh, and hope Lawnmower Boy enjoys too. I confess, LB, as you are perhaps the biggest Pogo fan, I am hoping I'm doing this right, or close to it in your eyes.

[Lawnmower Boy]

On 11/17/2023 at 4:48 PM, Hermit said:

 

Emperor Norton lives!

 

Oh, and hope Lawnmower Boy enjoys too. I confess, LB, as you are perhaps the biggest Pogo fan, I am hoping I'm doing this right, or close to it in your eyes.

Ahem. I've been keyboardless on vacation for the last week, or I would have responded earlier, because my thoughts were having little baby thoughts. Apart from it being unlikely that a family descended from railway workers would speak Mandarin at home as opposed to Cantonese, I liked it! And I was acutely reminded of it when my brother walked in on my niece, K., discussing the graduate school application process at me and held up his hands in the timeout position and said "Pause," just to get a word in. 

[Hermit]

18 minutes ago, Lawnmower Boy said:

Ahem. I've been keyboardless on vacation for the last week, or I would have responded earlier, because my thoughts were having little baby thoughts. Apart from it being unlikely that a family descended from railway workers would speak Mandarin at home as opposed to Cantonese, I liked it! And I was acutely reminded of it when my brother walked in on my niece, K., discussing the graduate school application process at me and held up his hands in the timeout position and said "Pause," just to get a word in. 

 

AH, I may have to tweak that, and a good catch on Catonese vs Mandarin; that was my ignorance showing. Glad the rest worked for you. Mmm may need to tweak family background or at least insert a line about the languages. Thanks!

[Lawnmower Boy]

1 hour ago, Hermit said:

 

AH, I may have to tweak that, and a good catch on Catonese vs Mandarin; that was my ignorance showing. Glad the rest worked for you. Mmm may need to tweak family background or at least insert a line about the languages. Thanks!

Yes, Mandarin is much more common among recent migrants, to the point that Cantonese is almost as endangered in California (probably BC, too, these days) as it is in Guangdong and Hong Kong. 

[Hermit]

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure

(continued)

 

 

Traffic had really picked up for the short time I was in the store and was as thick as stew by the time I got on the road again. I didn’t know if there was a convention, or some big game going on in the city I had forgotten, but I could bounce faster than the traffic was moving.

And the team communication network was still down. What the heck was up with that? I took a peek for a text response on my phone while I waited behind a red-light, only briefly. No response there either. Frustrated, I put on the radio. Maybe there would be one of those oddly common clues by media we superheroes get now and then? I know it sounds crazy but it is amazing how often some DJ interrupts their regular play list to mention something weird going on at this or that street, before taking requests. Doubly weird when you consider that a lot of radio today is preprogrammed days in advance.

 

I hit random scan for laughs and to take my mind off my worries and anxiety. The first station it hit was the local golden oldies station that played 80s music. Walking on Sunshine started, that’s one I actually know! I normally like perky songs, but this time? I wasn’t feeling it so I didn’t sing the lyrics.

 

The problem? Neither did the radio!

 

I swore I heard the chorus as ‘I’ve been stalked by a villain, wooah

stalked by a villain, whooah

and I’ve been concussed good!’

 

I double blinked, and took my eyes off the road for a second to stare, but I had set it on scan mode so it had already moved onto a different station.

A song from a superhero movie, one of the fictional superheroes not a real one like me, was playing..

And the lyrics were wrong again.

 

You’re not crazy, don’t ignore this tone

I’m trapped by a psycho all alone

I’m in Danger (Danger)

I’m in Danger! (Danger)

Hope I can forge a link you’re in range of

Pogo, I’m in danger…

 

I had to swerve out of the way of incoming traffic, as to say I was a little surprised! Did that just say what I thought it said? I left the scanner on as I reoriented myself wondering if I was going crazy. But then, the last song said I wasn’t? And if you can’t trust a lyric mutilating radio performance, who can you trust?

Did I need a therapist? The team had free access to a trusted therapist. Eel had been attending one for awhile. He had taken a lot of sessions after his last big adventure. What with his dad having cancer and Caleb blaming himself for that; the guy had been through a lot. So while some in my family might think psychology wasn’t for normal people, I was not sticking my nose up at it. Eel is either remarkably strong willed, or maybe just pig headed. Either way, it is a sign there is no shame in going a little nuts if you’re responsible in reaching out for help when you get there.

The scan went on in my old car, and the lyrics went normal again. I must have imagined it.

 

The traffic was letting up. Finally I could deliver this cake.

 

Wait, range? The song said range!

 

I pulled a U turn and risked scaring some folks. Some bastard yelled something about Asian drivers, which is rude and racist. I yelled something back “My bad driving is my own and I own it, you creep!”

I’m not a bad driver by the way. I maybe mediocre, but I’m not bad.

 

I switched the radio off, and had an idea. I clicked my phone on search for a particular song. It was from a Canadian Band Aspirant had introduced me to. I guess he would claim it was THE Canadian Band.

“Play something by the Tragically Hip!” I ordered my phone.

 

And just like that, Locked in the Trunk of a Car began to play, and the more clearly I heard the twisted and completely wrong lyrics, the more I tried to use it to guide me towards wherever it was trying to lead me.

 

 

I don’t know where the hell I am

And my focus feels like jelly

This lady says you are her arch-enemy

I don’t know what for, can’t think!

I don’t know where the hell I am

And my focus feels like jelly

Pogo, I’m hoping this gets your attention

You know I think with you she has some contention

Her logo looks familiar, but trouble with memory retention

 

Warning, she spoke about kicking your backside non-stop

The end of you, she seeks and she says she won’t stop

Where you could say I became her hostage, this is messed up
Get the other Sammies before to my rescue you pop off
 

“Comms are down,” I said aloud in the car and tried to think real hard. If somehow he was affecting my mind so I was getting a message hidden in music, maybe he could pick up on my thoughts?

 

But if it was working on that end, it wasn’t showing because the ‘song’ kept going with it’s snippets warning me what I was facing.

 

She dragged me round some place, it is dark and a bit fishy

It’s a cold, stinking place

Where I hear the click of tins in case

Maybe I’m in cannery with food so squishy?

However, I can’t see; I’m in a blindfold shoddy

 

Cannery? I’ve been a resident of this city all my life. I didn’t have it all memorized, but I could make an educated guess. I headed near the warehouses and docks area. Damn it, Caleb would be great help on this.

“There’s never an aquatic hero when you need one!” I snapped unfairly.

 

Then the distorted music got less distorted, but gloomier still, and if you’ve heard the real song you’d know how bad that is.

 

If you can’t hear this, I wish you could understand

Mourn and Move on, I’ll understand

Yeah

 

And I’ve seen your face, and was immediately besotted

Your mind’s a warm and kindly place

And you liked me? Who’d have thought it?

You took my heart away, and I’m so glad you caught it

However, I’m asking, please cremate my body

 

It was romantic, it was sweet, it was tearful and heartfelt.

It was making me irrationally angry!

 

“Damn it,” I snapped at my boyfriend who apparently couldn’t hear my thoughts back while he worked on the music, “You are not dying. I’m going to rescue you, but I need you to not give up! Come on, remember, you’re a CAN-Nadian, not a Can’t-Nadian!”

 

As a refrain was going on before the final part of the ‘song’ I saw it, the Rhamnousia Cannery!

 

My phone played the last words ‘Let me out’ but I couldn’t tell if that was just how it ended normally, or my guy still fighting to transmit.

 

I don’t know who the hell was claiming to be my nemesis. A part of me always wanted a nemesis, but not if it meant my boyfriend was hurt and a hostage! My ire was rising. If someone wanted to make an enemy of me, hurting him was a good way to ensure it.

With my telepathic boyfriend so dazed he could only transmit on whatever part of my brain that listened to music, and the rest of the New Samaritans beyond my ability to contact? I was on my own.

This wanna be arch-enemy is pushing for a fight with me? Fine. I’m Pogo. Push me, and I push back harder!

***

(TBC)

[Lawnmower Boy]

Hermit: Your giant lyrics-royalty cheque has been accidentally delivered to your friend in Canada.

 

...Along with a reminder that your Guild dues are late

[Hermit]

An important note! Satire laws make musicless parodies of lyrics in songs fair use, at least here in Mighty Eagle land

[Hermit]

Cakewalk- A Pogo Adventure

(continued)

 

Getting into the cannery wasn’t hard. A few bounces and I was on the roof. There was an outside stairway that lead in and down to the rest. There was a lock on it, but it wasn’t anything too strong or high tech to foil me. Oh, even if there was I would have broken in, I just thought maybe stealth would be the best way to go.
Of course, as a rule, I’m not stealthy. Also? I can’t see in the dark. So I had hit something of a snag here as I snapped the lock and went down into the dark. If I was lucky, the villainess, whoever she was, couldn’t see in the dark either, and had a light source out of necessity. The light from above faded so fast I was soon plunged in total blackness.
    And I nearly slipped on the step more than once. Now, this sucked but it would suck for me to fall less than a lot of other people. My power is rebounding. Hit me with kinetic force, and I bounce around like nuts with little to no harm to myself. We may have a lot of bullet proof heroes in this city right now, but yours truly is the queen of taking blunt attacks and staying pretty.

 

 Sharp objects are a bit more of a problem, but I’ve been practicing on using my powers on those too, and I’ve got a knife resistant weave in my costume so there’s that. But a fall? I could handle that. I could bounce down the whole way superfast.

  But that would also surely give away my location or at least my arrival and put Aspirant in danger. What if there was a weapon to his throat, or he was strapped to a bomb? Not for the first time my mind raced with possible hostage scenarios, each one worse than before.

    I have an active imagination, and it is not always a blessing. I found a rail, and I took it slow, agonizingly, nerve-wrackingly slow. It was all I could do not to grit my teeth in frustration. I’d never had someone I loved before used against me this way. I mean, if you believe the comic books, every superhero eventually does, but I really prefer reading about it to experiencing it.

    My head was making noise anyway so I kept it busy by having a conversation with myself.

    Easy, Pogo. Aspirant is a hero too. Even hurt, he’ll try to get free on his own. And if he can’t, we at least know he knows the drill. You’ve practiced for this, Pogo. Lady Obsidian has put everyone through a dozen simulations for moments like this.
    Of course, the simulations usually pushed for backup and teamwork, both very much in doubt now. No, positive thoughts, assertive, but not cocky. Cool, but not cold. Hopeful, not harried.
    I heard a voice, just a single one.

    “No, mother… I haven’t issued my challenge yet. I have to find some way to do it without getting the whole team on me,” The voice was a woman. It was hard to be sure but she sounded roughly my age. I couldn’t place the accent beyond American.
    There was a pause, as if someone else were speaking and the first voice had to wait.
    Then she continued, “He DID take on more than one, mother, and he lost because of it. I… no mother. I didn’t mean it that way. I won’t fail you. I’ll avenge him. You’ll see!”
    And somewhere in the dark, I hit the bucket someone had left on the steps! They clattered down down down with a clank clank thunk!
    Damn it, if I wanted noises like that, I would have made them myself!
    “Who’s that?” the voice called up, “Mom, I got to go. I think she’s here…”

    To hell with it, it was too late. I was made. I had to move! So I dropped and followed the bucket and began to bounce down the steps. I put full force on my feet, with my hands upraised to catch contact with the ceiling before hammering down again.  Each bounce feeding me more and more energy to redirect and use for my own. I don’t get sick. I don’t get dizzy. I do get kind of pumped up! And when I get pumped up, I can’t help but start rambling.
    I get a lot of grief for this, but you know I’m not the only one. I mean, I like Eel, but he talks way a lot during his fights too! Besides, I was made, might as well give whoever this woman was the old razzle-dazzle and hope to distract her.
    “Hello,” I declared as I shot into the floor level of the cannery where my costumed beau lay blindfolded, and shackled with a nasty swelling on his head, “You have kidnapped my team mate” And Boyfriend, I thought angry before yelling, “Prepare to get bounced, trounced, and thoroughly denounced!”
    “Finally!” the villainess whirled, and then, almost an after thought, “Mom, I gotta go. She found me. Yes, vengeance will be...”     
    I crashed into the gray and black clad woman causing her to drop her phone as I slammed her into a large stack of old cans which scattered like bowling pins with a lot of force, but not to lethal levels. Angry as I was, I did remember the first rule of superheroes. We don’t kill! We’re not executioners, we’re the good guys. And darn it, the world needs that. There’s an old Chinese saying, darn if I can remember who the source is, I presume an old Chinese guy (Who by now is really, really dead): Without standards, no boundaries are set.

    My boundaries were simple, solid walls, objects much heavier than myself, and no fricking killing!

    I wasn’t above giving into curiosity though, and even as I was flying back from contact with her, I snatched the dropped phone up and asked, “I’m sorry, Pogo here. What’s her name can’t come to the phone right now as I’m about to kick her ass for hurting Aspirant and bothering me during a really bad day. Can I take a message?”
    There was a stream of cursing in my ear that was as passionate as it was unoriginal. She compared me to a female dog, she declared my birth illegitimate, and I think she even threw in something vaguely antisemitic, which made NO sense. Then she finished up with a part that stood out.
    “You’ll pay for what you did to my son! For the way you made him a laughing stock in the villain set!”

    I was about to ask just who the hell was her son even as I reached for Aspirant to get him the hell out of here, when something glowing and green lashed about me, and yanking me back even as pain from a strange discharge arched through me.
    “YOU!” Said the villainess who I had knocked into the cans. She’d gotten to her feet faster than I thought she would. Projecting from her were strange emerald energy coils, that reminded me a little of Bramble’s vines even if they were not made of any form of plant life. It was a constricting maneuver, and that, that was a problem!
    Eel had long ago pointed out that grapplers had ways of taking me out more effectively than punchers. So energy coils wrapping about me, and starting to tighten? That was more than a little alarming. And it was a darn good thing that I’m a lot more serious a hero than folks give me credit for. I’ve been doing this for a few years now, and when I was told that grappling was a weakpoint for me? You know what I did?

 

I started practicing my escapology and hold escapes, that’s what I did!

 Before the noose of energy could completely tighten, I redirected my motion and lunged through the eye of it, inhaling, and thinking thin thin thoughts! There was an almost digitized snap sound behind me and the pain ended as I slipped loose from it.
 Despite her mask, the girl in front of me couldn’t stop her expression of shock and surprise and I came at her and delivered a good right cross right along her kisser and a lecture to boot!
 “Your mom is very rude, and you’re not much better! Are you crazy, coming into THIS city and kidnapping a member of the New Samaritans? On your own? I don’t know who your brother is, but he can’t be worth embracing a plan sure to get your ass handed to you eventually no matter what! “
  “My mother made me.. I mean, my family….” The villain was tough, but not super tough. I’d bloodied her lip. She rubbed, and then snapped, “Wait, you don’t even know who my brother is? After you helped disgrace him? You didn’t even take him seriously? He was a walking BOMB, you smug sugary twit! My brother could wreck whole streets, my brother is DEVASTATION! And you WILL remember him!”
    Another emerald energy coil shot out of her, striking out like a glowing whip! It was not purely kinetic, and while my powers protect me from everything a little; it wasn’t enough. This hurt like hell, and I  could feel it threatening to cut through not just my costume, but the flesh of my back!

 

 I think a cry of pain escaped me despite my best effort. Moving, keep moving. She was right about one thing. I remembered Devastation! It was back when the rookies had really just arrived, and I was, comparatively, the old pro for once. And still I needed help from Valerosa and Eel then to beat him. I have to admit, using his own power against him was rather satisfying despite the dangers. He really couldn’t hurt me, just knock me around and once I got under him? I took control of the fight and got him into the water which made him easy pickings for Eel.
    This woman, her powers were different. This woman could hurt me.
    And you know something?
    So what? I’ve been brain fried, electrified, strangled, and bespelled! I’ m not going to say pain didn’t scare me. I’m saying no hero worth her salt can let the fear of pain keep her cowed!  I kept tumbling, and kept rolling,  building up momentum again then kicked the wall. She could hurt me if she hit me, but first? She’d have to hit me and a lot more than once!

  I was angry more than scared, but neither was good in this fight. Aspirant was injured and nearby. I needed to keep my focus to keep the fight away from him.  If she threatened to hurt him if I didn’t surrender.
  Yeah, I’d surrender to save him.

  He’s my guy.

 So I better make sure she doesn’t think of that. Fortunately, not only did she seem to have an easy button to press when it came to smack talk, she had labeled it for me.
    “Oh, yeah, Devastation, I remember him! He was a real jerk, so confident how bad he was just because he had zero finesse and a big boom. But his best blasts? All they did was fuel me, make me more powerful, and then, when I got under him, he was my personal play toy. You’re the sister of THAT loser?”

    “SHUT UP!” She send out twin energy coils, one from each hand at me. One high, one low.
    Which is why I went middle, and answered, “Never have, never will. I’m a talker. What you want me to do? Lie? One minute your bully of a brother was willing to put the lives of innocents at risk, the next he was crying out because the tables had turned. You want me to say I’m SORRY I saved lives?”

    I looked for an avenue to close on her again, but her fast paced whipping certainly made it it hard to find one. The good news? We’d moved well away from Aspirant, further into the halls of the cannery. There were long slumbering assembly lines and devices here, and of course, more and more stacked boxes of cans.

    “You didn’t have to humiliate him!” My foe declared, “You didn’t have to ruin his reputation. Do you know much that pissed my mother off? He was the success of the family! He was the big threat! And you made him a joke!”
    For a moment I thought her shots went extra wide, but then I realized I wasn’t the target. Each jade coil had latched onto a chunk of factory machine and then they closed them on me, seeking to entrap me! I bounced between the two now closing objects, building up speed but unsure I’d break free!
    Crap crap crap! She was mad, but not brainlessly so. I slammed my fists down on the objects as they came close to sealing me in, and popped out, hit the ceiling and came down again, breaking the almost constraints through raw force with a crunching sound. And I leaped to tackle her before she could do that again!
    We tumbled end over end, and that was my advantage, because every time she hit the ground, she groaned. When I hit it? I picked up oomph and force to hammer her down anew. She was tough, but she wasn’t Valerosa or Eel tough.
    “Your mother pushes you towards this?” I said stunned, figuratively speaking, “She wants you to be villains? Holy crap, I thought my family was stressful! Look, I get it. You want to make them happy, and superpowers don’t make that easier, they make it harder, but you shouldn’t destroy your future just to appease your mom’s twisted dreams of being some criminal matriarch!”

    My anger over this girl kidnapping my boyfriend and hurting him wasn’t gone, not by any stretch of the imagination, but now it had been joined by a strong confused streak of pity and, yeah, a weird deja vu. I mean, obviously my grandmother didn’t want me to be a supervillain. She really did want what she thought was best for me, but still, I knew what it was like to feel the weight of expectation. I wanted to make everyone happy. Everyone. But even when I knew what made me happy, I felt bad about pursuing it!
    “And go where? Huh? And go where?” My new surprise nemesis snapped, “When Devastation gets out of jail, if he finds out I crossed mom, he’ll come for me to teach me a lesson. If she doesn’t’ do it herself or my sister. We’ve all got powers, all five of us, but I’m the only one who hasn’t made her bones. I’m the only one who is weak! I have to fix that! I need to stand out as RAVAGE!”

    As if they had minds of their own, which, maybe they did, the energy coils of hers managed to snag me again. The strange emissions burned and zapped in turn, neither quite heat nor quite electricity. And they squeezed. I wasn’t sure I’d get free this time so instead I kept slamming her against this wall, that floor, and yeah, even the ceiling.
    I had hoped her only power was the weird energy lashes she emitted. But Ravage was also plenty tough. An ordinary person would be at risk of broken bones with the bumps and slams I was delivering but while she was hurting, she was in no danger of that.

    “Ravage? Really?” I said, “Sure, let’s go with that. Look, Ravage I don’t know your family story and I would feel sorry for you if you hadn’t hurt Aspirant! But if you haven’t committed other crimes, maybe we can keep charges low, get you a safe place and therapy, SO much therapy. Right now, until you surrender, we’re going to keep at it until one of us is out and Urk!”

I didn’t mean to say Urk. That was the consequence of my foe bringing in her coils to crush wrap up tight together in a kind of cocoon. Ravage had gotten time to recover and her coils and I was trapped by the tendrils that had elongated and extended over and over again until the only light I could see was the verdant glow of her own coils about us both. We were nose to nose.

 “Now I’ve got YOU trapped,” She said, even as the coils shot waves of pain along me wherever they touched. They didn’t seem to harm their maker, which makes sense, “I’ve won.”
 Slowly, inch by inch, I slipped my right arm up between us. I didn’t have enough room to draw back for a solid punch, but I said, “I’m a trained hero, with lessons from veteran superheroes who have,” I gasped as more energy burned me,  “taught me tried and tested hand to hand techniques. Don’t make me do the Fu.”
 “What? Kung Fu?” She sneered, looking a bit like the Wicked Witch of the West in her own emerald light.

 

“Nope,” I jabbed my fingers in her eyes, “Stooge Fu, Nyuk Nyuk!” Yeah, this was diving into the old lore. My Great Uncle thinks they’re the funniest thing and got me to sit down to watch them when I was a kid. Let this be a lesson to any future super-heroines, you can pick up tools for your war on crime from the weirdest places.

  Valerosa once told me that people had reflexive reactions to certain intrusions. That while a true pro would not be mislead by those hard wired reactions, an amateur might!
  Looks like Ravage’s mom had neglected her training! Ravage did what most of us would do if ours were in danger. She flinched! Her Focus disrupted, her coils sprayed open, and I shoved myself out of their grasp and knocked her down again.
  She staggered about cursing at me.

    “Oh, stop your whining,” my own supply of good humor was dwindling, “I know how much force to apply and I keep my nails short. Your eyes weren’t damaged for good.”
    I didn’t give her time to recover her focus or for her watering eyes to clear, bouncing back, and now that I had her measure, holding back less. I hit her, rebounded, built up power, and hit her again and again!

    Ravage, sister of Devastation, went down. This time, she stayed down. I rebounded from her, to Aspirant, let my kinetic energy die down and cradled his head gently, “Oh, baby. I got your message. It was weird, but I got it.”
    “You did?” He looked blearily at me, “couldn’t focus. Comms were down.”
    “I know, and yes,” I bent down to kiss him on the lips gently, “Nobody’s going to hurt you now.”
    He was too weak to return the kiss much, but he tried, and he smiled when it was over “Pogo saves the day. Hey,” A hand went up to my mask, “Don’t cry.”

    “Can’t help it,” I told him. He didn’t need to be a telepath to know how scared I was I might lose him, or happy I was that he was alive, “I’m a bad-ass who is not afraid of her emotions.”
    He gave a weak chuckle and I slowly helped him get to his feet. He had to lean against me. We had both had less smelly days, but that too was okay.
    “Wait, Comms are down, how am I going to call to get Ravage in the tank?” I wondered aloud, “Can’t use my personal phone in the car, that’ll be a risk to my secret ID,” Then I spotted the phone I’d spoke on earlier. It was ringing.
    “Your mom is calling again,” I told the unconscious Ravage, sighed and with a nod towards Aspirant so he’d understand, I picked up the phone and answered.

    “Ravage? Ravage, is it done?” The woman’s voice sounded like she was positively salivating at the idea of her daughter avenging her baby boy.

    A dozen flippant comments came to mind, or even a few flat out jokes, or maybe pranking her, but no, I had something serious to say and I was going to say it, “Your daughter is not too badly hurt. Which is the first thing you should have asked about, but I’m not surprised you didn’t. You. Are. A. Terrible. Mother.”
    She began to cuss.

    “SHUT UP,” I snapped, “Hero talking, coward who sends others doesn’t get to until I say so.”
    There was a sputtering sound, and I continued on, “Ravage is your daughter, but she is also her own person. She’s not just an extension of you or even her family, and if you were a mother of any sort of worth you’d know that, but instead you tied up her worth in her brother’s revenge. You made her SCARED of you? You treat her like an appendage that you’re willing to cut off if it’s not useful but in a real family, every person is valued, not just your golden boy son, and certainly not just your personal clan vanity! Your daughter is going to jail because YOU pushed her to this, because you SHAMED her. She is not the weak link in your family, YOU are! You had one job as a mom, and you screwed it up. And I’m coming after you.  Not because you’re some cool arch-enemy, not because you’re my nemesis. I’m coming for you because you’re a toxic influence on your own children, and I just find you offensive! Better change your phone number, genius… better hope it’s not traceable with super tech!”
    The phone abruptly disconnected. I smiled, Eel might be proud of me for that speech. We both had righteous outrage and little shame about it.

    “We’ll get her,” My boyfriend promised, “Better call the Tank next.”

    I looked at Ravage, still out. A part of me almost wished I could let her go. What a waste of power and talent, all for fear of a family member. I wasn’t so oblivious as to realize there was a dark reflection thing going on here. I thought of my grandmother and realized I’d been afraid of her. Unlike Ravage’s mother, grandma did it out of love, just like mom said, and besides, Grandmother’s mind was slipping. I could admit that now. It was going to get harder, not easier, but nothing we couldn’t handle, if we faced it as a family.

  “Yes, yes you will, and I’ll help,” My boyfriend said by my side.
    “Hey, I thought your telepathy was on the fritz thanks to the headbump?” I looked at him.
    “This close? I got you,” he said gently, “And while I can’t cure things, if you want? I’ll help her as much as I can.”
    I hugged him! He hugged me!
    We both went “Ow ow ow!” We’d forgotten we were very, very, sore from his ambush and my fight.
    “Let’s not tell the other Samaritans we did that,” Aspirant advised, “We would never hear the end of it.”
    “Deal,” I said, “I’ll call authorities to pick up Ravage. Then I’ll get you to medbay, and then? Then I have to deliver a cake.”
    “A cake?” he said surprised.
    “Yup,” I said as we supported each other, “For others, this escapade would be a challenge, but for the mighty Pogo? A cakewalk.”  Maybe it was the exhaustion and pain from the fight, but I thought that was very funny of me and was vindicated when Aspirant gave a soft laugh as if he found it very funny too.
    Of course, he was possibly concussed, so maybe wasn’t judging so well but I took it as a win anyway.

(The End)

    

 

[Hermit]

I still need to go back and make adjustments to this and earlier stuff, such as replacing Mandarin with Cantonese (Thanks again, Lawnmower Boy!) but all the above is the rough draft of the story. I'm 5000 short of my overall goal. Thanksgiving in America is coming up so I will be out of pocket for a bit

[Lawnmower Boy]

Clearly Pogo's uncle who pretends to not understand English is a giant Stooges fan, 'cuz that's the only way a girl Pogo's age would have heard of them. Not that I disapprove of her hanging around her Uncle Whatsisname. (I'm imagining Ernie, a good Chinese uncle name.)

[Hermit]

Mandarin replaced by Cantonese... and mention of a Stooge loving Uncle made

And thanks again, Lawnmower Boy

[Hermit]

 

 

For he’s a jolly good jello- A Slime Story

 

Solid creatures aren’t. They flake, all the time. To be near a humanoid life friend is akin to keeping a pet that sheds, constantly. I should not say that. Pets are not equals; not sapient and rarely sentient as most would think of it, where as humanoids, or at least humans, are. Indeed, it would appear that solid humanoid forms are the dominant and most recurring template for sentient species in the galaxy.

 

They’re still repugnant though. I consider a few of them friends, and even more allies in my war to pacify and keep the peace on this savage little mudball. But it is still unsettling when their dried skin cells or loose hair strands inevitably cascade onto my surface. I can feel each and every individual mote just … laying there.

 

I suppose for a humanoid it would be as if someone walked up to you, licked one of their finger digits, then pressed and held it against the bare skin of a neck, though my tactile senses are far more advanced. For all my complaints, I am fond of humans over all. Some are so ugly they’re almost cute. And they have a rich and vibrant multi-culture network. Humans are natural story tellers, and that may yet be what propels them to the stars on their own accord. Human (And, to be fair, other species’) Governments travel to space for strategic advantage over rivals, resource gathering, and scientific research. Individual humans? They are driven by their stories. They want to tell stories, they want to find out if stories are true, and sometimes they desperately want to insert themselves into stories of their own making.

 

Armstrong was the first human on Luna that they know of in history. But their stories of that pale rock? Oh, they speculated so strongly of who else might have been in songs, novels, poems and movies. Every discovery leads to new speculation, every speculation leads to new stories, and every story leads others to go out and discover all over again.

 

Most of them don’t have the sense of form to see it as the great waltz that I do. I guess an outside perspective helps.

 

It’s not my original name, but here on Earth, I’m called Slime. And most humans find anything with that descriptor rather gross in return, I know. My releases of occasional gaseous chemicals, needful for cooling and self purification, often offend them. Which is odd, as their nostrils are really not that good at accurate chemical analysis. I try to give them space so they don’t flake on me, and I don’t ‘fart’ on them.

 

So I was a bit surprised when I got invited to the Bachelor Party! What I know of Bachelor parties I only know from their movies and the like. So I confess, I was more than surprised, I was curious.

 

Is this Bachelor Party where you bake an Earth Girl into the cake and then devour her in a less than savory environment if she does not escape in time? Thus something of a hunt? I inquired of Tino with my usual way of mimicking their written language in a kind of surface font that rolled along my being.

 

Tino, aka Valentino, aka Tornado aka ‘He who emulates procreation often but with no budding’ had put himself in charge of making arrangements for Eel’s Bachelor Party. Eel, aka Fish Guy aka Caleb, aka ‘he who does not always think things through when he gets his mind set on something’ is an ally of mine. I’m not sure we’re great friends. There was an… incident many years ago. I’m mostly over it now, but it did hinder closer ties.

 

“What? NO,” Tino said, glancing over to Viewpoint.

 

Viewpoint, of who I have too many AKAs to list right now, IS a friend, perhaps my best friend. I am fond of him. He was a story teller for a living of sorts. What they call an actor. He did not craft the story per se, but he helped bring it to life, and I found that wonderful. Also, he has grown much. I mean he has matured emotionally and ethically, not that he has expanded his mass. As a rule, most Earth Superheroes are fit and athletic, but they are not obese.

 

Viewpoint laughed, “No, Slime. Though a dancer might be part of it. There’s never any heat applied to the cake. You don’t actually even try to bake the woman in question. Besides, not every Bachelor party does it like they do it in the movies. Mostly it will be drinking, swapping stories, that kind of thing.”

 

“Si, what he said,” Tornado smiled, “You’ve been on the team, and you’re.. a guy, right?”

I do identify as masculine, yes. I resisted the urge to form an extension to mock the moment. They had not yet had enough Earth Liquor for that to be funny.

Well, Hussar would have laughed. He’s my other friend. The clone of a very powerful superhuman who it turned out was a bigot. Hussar himself is not, and we’re going to help him set the record on his DNA source straight.

Hussar flapped his wings, “It might be fun, Slime. Come along. We get bored, we blame Tornado and bail.”

“Hey?” Tornado looked offended.

It was very touching that they would consider me for this, given that sometimes, to human nostrils, I stank.

Are you sure you wish me there? I know my gas release can be a bit off putting. Also, won’t any entertainer you hire be ...alarmed by me? It has taken even those on this team to get used to me.

“To be fair, we still gross YOU out now and then,” Viewpoint reminded.

It’s a fair cop, I conceded. My earth slang is jumbled, and I’m told I borrow from a rather eclectic mix from various decades but I think I got that across right. Still, are you sure I will not ‘kill the mood’?

“If you’re not allowed, then I’m not going either,” Hussar said with a stubborn set to his mandibles. It is ironic that he was so supportive as the first time we met, we had an altercation. I’m told that’s not atypical among ‘superheroes’ but still, it was touching how much had grown to appreciate me.

I almost regret the ‘tastes just like chicken’ jokes.

“Every guy is invited,” Tino assured us all, “And I’m not going to get too wild with the entertainment. The Groom is a friend, but the Bride is my niece so I’m walking a tightrope here.”

In truth, I doubted Caleb Eel would partake of any intimacies with any other woman regardless of opportunity and not just because he would be ritually mauled by Tino, then later Ariana. His pheromone production is much heavier for his chosen bride than it is any other female, and like wise hers for him. Their pulses quicken, and they show signs of dopamine rushes at the sight of each other.

Also, they’re deeply in love.

“That said,” Tino added tactfully, “I think we can arrange so you’re not upwind from us if you feel the need to.. release. If that won’t offend you?”

It wouldn’t be the first time, and I am rather flattered to go in. Do forgive me if I end up just sort of ‘peeking in’ though?

“Of course not,” Tornado assured me.

“All right, NOW it will be a party,” Hussar declared.

Viewpoint was sympathetic, “I know you get nervous around crowds, but this should be a small one. Glad you’re on board.”

Of course I got nervous around crowds. If you were permeable you’d be a bit nervous about the chance of solid feet stomping through your frame too.

Still, even I get lonely. And my friends are too precious for me to neglect social time with them. A part of me was looking forward to this.

***

 

This, I concluded, was a horrible mistake. The event in question had not even begun, and already I was being interrogated by Arctic Fox who appeared to be acting as a delegate, how official I did not know, for the female half of the coming nuptials. I have heard others describe Fox as a “mean girl for justice”. I’ve seen the movie but not heard the musical, nevertheless, I get it. Add to that her ability to freeze liquids, such as myself, solid, and you might comprehend why I found Arctic Fox more than a little intimidating.

“All I want to know,” Fox pressed again, hovering over me and looking down with narrowed orbs, “is where, when, who, and if those pigs are going to have some floozy skanking it out while they oink.”

Now, I have mentioned that I was not, to human eyes, visually pleasing, and I was downright unpleasant to their olfactory sense at rare but key times. While Arctic Fox tries not to mention her distaste too openly in my presence; she is not skilled enough, nor concerned enough that I am unaware that she often leads the band in these feelings, so to speak. In regards to protecting the innocent or fighting crime, she is a consummate professional. In regards to respecting the space of others? A nightmare.

I panicked.

NAME: SLIME! I printed out on my surface, RANK: SUPERHERO scrolled next, SERIAL NUMBER: 3 × 10⁸

“Stop joking around,” She snorted, and I could feel my skin congeal slightly at the temperature drop in her proximity. I am told that, among earthlings, she would be considered a great beauty, not uncommon among their super powered set. But let me tell you, to people of my species? The allure is lost. She’s a terrifying overlay of locked symmetrical sinews overlayed over solid calcium filled hard tissue buried under porous skin crawling, CRAWLING I say, with bacteria.

Gah! I cannot even.

Add to that the aforementioned freezing powers, and one can grasp why I was looking for a means of egress that wouldn’t betray the confidences I had been sworn to.

I decided to try honesty: You’re terrifying. Please go away.

To my surprise, she actually did step back, and put her hand on her hip, more than a little affronted.

“Yeah well, grass is always grosser on the other side I guess,” She seemed to consider before going on, “Look, Arinia may act like it’s no big deal if they have some stripper shaking her ass at whatever bachelor party Tino has set up, but I’m pretty sure it would make her feel very insecure.”

Despite my fear and disgust, I was intrigued by this. Too often solids, despite, or perhaps because of their fixed state, put on a mask of deception to their peers. Indeed, the noble calling of civic aid that most superheroes on Earth practice counts on secrecy. How odd is that? Then again, it wasn’t like I was going around chatting often with them face to form, so to speak. I too relied on secrecy, mostly to keep myself from being a forever guest at Area 51 or wherever human agencies kept non terran life.

She need not distress I displayed, Caleb, for all his faults, is a faithful man. I am sure he would treat any entertainer with respect while forgoing any pre-ceremony betrayal. Tino also honors his niece like a sister. I am sure that if Caleb did start to dishonor her, they would come to blows befitting primate social disputes on familial levels.

 

Judging by her shifting expression, that seemed to placate her a bit, but then Fox continued, “Okay, first, you need to stop confusing media for how humans, even men, resolve disputes.”

I considered this ,and inquired before she could continue, They would instead compare vehicle size and fanciful markings on shame to establish hierarchy?

“What? No, I..” Fox grew flustered, “Maybe. But I’m just saying that punching it out is not how heroes settle differences between themselves, not the mentally stable ones anyway. And, thank you, I suppose Tino has matured, and there’s no denying he looks after Ariana. I just worry she’s downplaying how much it would bother her and that there might be a misunderstanding and a blow out.”

I had asked this before, but not of Arctic Fox, so I did How can a species of such amazing storytellers be so bad at communication in the personal sense? And why would she downplay it?

 

“Ego, pride, and insecurity is a hell of a combination to navigate around, Slime,” She had eased her tone still further, “if one part of a relationship gets possessive or controlling, it’s not a good sign. No one wants to be seen like that. On the other hand, the irrational mind is still a factor, and just because you can refuse to let those feelings dictate your actions, doesn’t mean they’ve gone away. Also, Valerosa is pretty good at keeping chill about things. I ought to know,” The last was said a bit wryly, “Guess I’m the one who tends to get carried away in relationships.” There was a sigh there, a sign of humanoid melancholy.

 

Indeed. Arctic Fox’s own record at pursuing a mate? Well, to use a human term, sucked. She had been used once to infiltrate the base by a black ops government agent. Before that, I understand, she had found herself smitten by more than one Earth Man who was, despite my misgivings (And personal disgust) about her, unworthy. Now, she was part of the team in Port Cascade with yet another romance brewing. I’m no primate, and she’s not my favorite human by any stretch, but I found myself feeling oddly protective of her. When it came to romance, she was oddly vulnerable, and I do not like bullies taking advantage of such.

 

Humans have this weird notion of equating love, particularly romantic love, with the puny blood pushing muscle in their torso known as ‘the heart’. It is an impressive enough pump, but I think they miss the major location. Love for them, I would astern, is more chiefly in two locations. One, of course, is in the brain. The other, less praised? The gut. It is in that factory where the ‘chemistry’ of romance has its greatest impact. Humans themselves describe a feeling akin to ‘butterflies in the stomach’ or being so nervous about impressing some they feel a bit nauseated and so on. The Heart is a fine engine, but the gut? That’s where the human body practices, like a proverbial mad scientist, it’s many experiments of stress and delight with courting endeavors.

 

All this made me wonder, Perhaps your own past hurts have made you more guarded than necessary or at least more protective? Ariana is a grown woman, and more level headed than most. You know her well, but is there not a chance you are, what is the term, projecting?

She looked annoyed at this. This was not an uncommon expression on Arctic Fox, however, so I waited for further reply.

 

“You might be right there,” She finally said, “Maybe I’m even wanting Caleb and her to get their happily ever after just so I know its possible. But if I’m not wrong, is it really worth gambling on for a lousy party?”

I pondered this. It seemed to me that if a relationship was so fragile anxiety over one night could break it, perhaps there were more things to be worried about than a bachelor party. Still, there was a lot I didn’t understand about the courting relationships and mating habits of Earthlings, and no amount of research on the Hallmark channel would fix that. Also, she did know Ariana better than I.

 

I will not let Caleb dishonor the woman he loves, even if by accident. You guard Ariana, if need be? I will… redirect this party.

It was not what Fox expected to hear, her primate brow shifted in the sign of surprise, her eyes widening for a moment. I bubble and swell, so I shouldn’t judge, but still, human eyebrows are disturbing. It’s like Earthlings have their own built in vermin for your forehead writhing about up there. Those HAD to be breeding grounds for yet more bacteria and cellular organisms roaming about.

 

“Thanks, Slime,” Arctic Fox finally put down those damn eye ridge-tribbles, “Just, do what you can to downplay any other women’s presence on this guy’s only night.”

What was I? A human herder? Still, I shall try.

 

It was all I could promise to do. No more, no less. This seemed to placate Arctic Fox, and she turned to exit. I watched her leave, her grotesque hour glass figure giving her a hideous sway that made me vaguely queasy just from observing it. It was a jarring parody of true fluidity.

Sometimes this planet and its creatures were just… too symmetrical. I repressed a shudder and moved on.

 

***

It occurs to me that if humans could get over their insecurities and communicate directly to each other more often their existences would be so much simpler. I know mine would be. Tornado had not kept me much in the loop. I knew where we would be, and what time we would be there for the party, but he had not shared if there would be any scantily clad revoltingly sinewy earthlings of female form to cause distress.

A simple plan came to me. I would arrive early, and if there were any human female there who was not Ariana there, I could conclude she was likely there to disrobe for gainful employment, and I would be free to issue forth some of my more (to human nostrils) foul smelling emissions and drive her out. Problem solved, Earth mating rituals cleared for continuance, various superheroes now to carry on with their battle for truth, justice, and the Earthly way thus potentially saving hundreds if not millions of lives depending upon the stakes of the monthly threat that was sure to arise.

 

You are welcome, Humans.

 

This, of course, would also personally spare me the negative attentions of the grotesque but goodhearted Arctic Fox and thus keep me at, more or less, a cozy room temperature. The location in question was called Harborage Hut. As I oozed into the place, I could see it had already been prepared for our collective arrival. The chemicals in the air denoted alcohol awaited. Alcohol, I found, was important to humans. It enabled, among other things, for them to ignore their own natural hideousness and approach the opposing sex with chemical confidence. I had ingested it myself a few times. It was a danger in that it could be very drying for a liquid, yet I will confess it also released a pleasant enough numbness. Unfortunately, too much of it caused my communication skills to deteriorate, particularly my ‘font print’ that I used to talk to the literary among the humans I knew.

 

My own people had variations of that in vapor form that we breathed in through our surface with greater nuance. Ah, what I wouldn’t give for there to be a source of a nice Rigelian Vapor Mist on this planet, preferably from the Nova 3803 occurrence. Nothing like a star going nova to give gas giants in the nearby system that special zing my people love. That, to use an Earth term, is the good stuff.

 

The next thing I noticed about the Harborage Hut was the stage, and the machine in front of it.

 

Wait, was the plan to come to a Karaoke Bar? That was the bachelor party idea? I had been on Earth long enough to know of these places. My Japanese was rudimentary despite some introduction to anime, some of which I enjoyed but I believe Karaoke translated to something like ‘empty orchestra’. This might be tolerable, but I did feel I might be left out of actually performing as communicating verbally was just not possible for me at least not in any coherent detail. I also noticed large scale screens in another room. Ah, I began to understand. No doubt this area would be reserved for sports viewing. American Football most likely, given the time. Though who knew for certain? Earthlings enjoy sports of all sorts. Aspirant, for example, proclaims Hockey as the superior sport of North America.

For myself? I could enjoy it more or less. It was morbidly fascinating, to see the human version of athletic exemplars dash about towards one end of the play zone to the next. There was little grace to their thundering stiff bodied movements, but one had to admire their zeal in pursuit of victory. What I liked most about Earth Sports were the stories they inspired, sometimes even while the game was ongoing. I have already opined that humans are amazing storytellers, but to hear humans gather about a water cooler or coffee pot or other communal drinking hole and share their take on the events of a game they’ve all seen is to invite bits and snippets of a saga.

 

A human athlete doesn’t just grab a ball, he ‘rips it’, one team does not just defeat another team, they ‘crush them’ or even ‘murder them’. They speak of sports rivalries as some species speak of blood feuds. Furthermore, the allegiances one professes are vitally important to some. If one has to have a tribalism, it seems a healthier and more fun loving sort than most. Quite often, I placate my best friends by supporting their teams, but now and then I show favor to the opposing team. One would think this ends a friendship, but rather, it becomes a vicarious competition for my friend and I. If his team in Blue defeat my chosen team in green, then he seems to get the same hit of happy hormones as if he had done victory himself. If my green team defeats his blue, there is much chest beating and wailing of injustice that borders on the theatrical. Then, a few weeks later at most, we do it again.

 

Where was I though? Ah yes, making sure no earth women were going to disrobe in this area! I extended my senses trying to sniff out and taste chemicals I had grown to associate with earth women. Certain perfumes or make up, floral scents, chocolate mixed with frustrated tears; that sort of thing. And I caught something? There was a human in here.

 

No, not in here. But nearby. Extending myself as I oozed in multiple directions for maximum area investigation, I flattened and protruded to the cardinal corners of the place. The recent cleaning of the place had wiped most dirt, and while yes, I could sense the liquors, it wasn’t as strong as it would have been otherwise and most conflicting scents were hardly competitive. This scent was in the air rather embedded in the wood or the tile cracks of the flooring.

Ah, the vents!

 

I love vents. Contrary to the wonderful movies humans enjoy, travel by vents is rarely wise or practical, for them. The average adult male, even if he is fully armed with a machine gun and one liners, is still likely too heavy to go through vents meant for mere air transit even if he finds some seemingly wide enough. I, on the other hand, can use them quite well. I cling when I wish to, and spread my mass more evenly. Vents are out of the way, and private. They’re like a private road for me so I can avoid bipedal traffic. It was also where the scent was coming from.

 

I was increasingly certain the scent was a human woman. Stereotypes aside, while there was no smell of chocolate, there was the faint scent of tears indeed. And, as I writhed up the vent, a sound to accompany it. Someone was audibly crying. It was not a pretty cry, like in the movies. Mucus seemed to obstruct nasal clearings causing infrequent but not rare snorts amid the sobs. The vent was leading to the roof. I easily navigated my way past the resting fans and poured my being out into the open air at the roof of the building.

 

And there? Sitting near the ledge of the roof, was the human. I have never called a human beautiful. My apologies to any humans ever privy to my memoirs, but you are, one and all, a pretty revolting species. Did I mention the flaking? I’m sure I must have.

 

Yet, visually, this human was the least offensive being I’d ever seen. While still too consistently symmetrical for my liking, this one was more curves. When I say this, I do not ape the human male obsession with what they call an hour glass shape which frankly I’m not impressed by. That’s so common among your super-heroines as to be almost trite. No, this earth woman was shaped a bit more like one of your gourds. She wasn’t perfectly symmetrical either, with a slight but intriguing balance just a bit to the left. Her light Latte hued skin would classify her as likely of European origins, though I’ve always found the idea of human referring to such things as ‘race’ rather sad and ultimately, the divisions manufactured have kept the entire species back from much greater advancement.

 

Then again, they’re hardly alone in the galaxy for stupid divisions. The Gemnok once went to war with themselves over proper toppings on circular bread. No, I’m not kidding. If you can, head to the nearest open galactic data library and look it up for yourselves.

But I most assuredly digress. I was speaking of the crying earth woman. Her hair was flat, stringy, and straight yet in a frayed manner I found added to her uniqueness. A thick pair of spectacles was indicative of poor eyesight without aid, and behind them a pair of pleasantly soil hued eyes bobbed along. Of course, currently those eyes were leaking a saline laced liquid. She wiped at her flabby face with the green sleeve of her blouse.

 

She had not, as of yet, noticed me. I could be very stealthy by nature if I could keep any gas from escaping me. Unfortunately, as I poured through the vent exit and onto the roof, a bit of air regrouped improperly as I collected myself and escaped after processing through me. In short, my surface bubbled and that bubble gave a soft pop.

 

I braced myself for the usual ‘sniff sniff’ followed by the look of surprise and disgust I got from humans with these little slips of mine. But to my surprise, she didn’t react. She did not notice. Perhaps the mucus she was exuding through her nostrils had obscured her? As a rule, humans CAN only smell through their noses rather than their whole form. They’re limited like that.

 

Still, despite the fact Tino had rented out the place, I felt that I was the one intruding on her and her moment, whatever that moment was. Eavesdropping doesn’t bother me too much normally. In the superehero profession, it is a valuable way to gather intelligence on the machinations of your typical evil doer. Also, when folks tend to scream as if you were about to absorb them and spit out a pod (An idea as revolting to me as it is to them, I assure you) you tend to wait for a friend to introduce you before you make yourself known. Still, she didn’t seem a threat at all, and I was aware that what I was doing was indeed snooping on a stranger.

 

I prepared to make a large blorp sound, or perhaps pat some of my pace on the roof to mimic knocking, but before I could, the Earth woman stood up from her sitting position, and approached even closer to the ledge.

And she began to talk to herself!

 

Despite my recent choice to reveal myself, I immediately reconsidered and listened in! Exposition at last! It can be overdone in your stories, but when you come in a mid season episode of a series, it can also be one of the only ways to catch up.

 

“Do it, Muriel,” She was saying to herself, “Just get it over with. Wait, this is a two story building tops. Jesus, I can’t even pick out a good suicide point. I’d likely just break every bone in my body. I need to find a locale with some height to it. Which sucks. I freaking hate stairs.”

 

Exposition! I too prefer ‘show don’t tell’ but in this case, given the situation, I was glad she didn’t. Life is precious. And besides, bones crunching is just a horrible sound. She turned then, and I was waiting for her.

 

DON’T JUMP!

 

That message was imprinted large and obvious upon my surface for her to read. I didn’t want to her to miss it. I even swelled up the surface it was on so she would not. I suppose it was similar to a bullfrog swelling, if the bullfrog had subtitles.

Muriel’s eyes might have been weak by human standards, but they saw this. They got very wide indeed, and she backpedaled. To her credit, she didn’t scream, so much as break into frantic breathing. I’ve had worse reactions. Unfortunately, she seemed to have forgotten she was near a ledge that she had just deemed insufficient in height. She began to topple over. This time? She DID scream!

 

My species has remarkable control over our surfaces. We can become acidic, or even sufficiently adhesive to ‘stick’. In this case, I chose the later. Extending a part of myself I latched onto Muriel, and kept her from plummeting to her certain injury. One would think this save would buy me some trust, but she screamed some more.

 

I know that I am not terribly photogenic. I tend to avoid cameras and public appearances for a reason. Yet I have been working with the superheroes of this city for several years now. Some of them are quite prominent. Yet, while it is known that an alien being dubbed Slime has helped save the city more than once, and made a career of protecting innocent citizens, I still drip into these situations where folk act as if I am some horror movie monster they never heard of.

 

No one will ever say, “Look, up in the air, it’s Slime!!” “Thank goodness!”

 

Largely, this is because if I am in the air sans vehicle, it means I have been launched. Still it would be NICE to have someone happy to see me.

I pulled her in closer, making sure she’d not fall off the roof, then released her before scrolling, SALUTATIONS, MURIEL! I am Slime! Superhero from another planet!

 

Muriel had stopped screaming, and read the print, more than once in fact. Blood pooled in her face, particularly below the cheeks. Blushes are interesting reactions. Muriel did not have a delicate overly confined blush. No, hers flooded in a way I found far more efficient and decorative than many humans.

 

“Wait, wait, I’ve heard of you,” She said “You work with the Fish Guy and the Commercial guy and others don’t you?”

 

Inwardly, I was amused. Eel hates being called Fish Guy, despite the fact its a pretty close translation to this particular alien. I mean, really, it is kind of like insisting ‘no, I am narrow elongated Fish Guy, not standard Fish guy’ but why bring it up and erode conduits? The Commercial Guy in question had to be Viewpoint. He didn’t do as many as he used to. He was a good friend, but even he would admit there was a time he had his priorities wrong. The fact he was still known for the commercial side of his career would sadden but not surprise him.

 

I have worked with Eel and Viewpoint. Yes. May One ask why you were trying to terminate your own life? I would say it was none of my business, but I AM a superhero. So trying to prevent loss of life? Literally my business.

 

“This is mortifying,” Muriel answered, giving reason to her blush, “I just tried to commit suicide in front of a superhero. You have to think I’m a real loser. I’m just pathetic.”

 

Actually, I tried to scroll the words at a pace she was comfortable with, My initial thought was you were a lot more pleasant to look at than most humans. That's not a come on, just an observation. My sense of aesthetics is different from most Earthlings. Your Tens are my Threes.

Muriel snorted at that, “Meaning you recognize by Earth Standards ‘I’ am a three?”

Now it was my turn to feel embarrassment, rating any individual by a scale was rude, and after all these years on Earth I should have known better,  I did not mean it that way, and apologize. I was merely starting I did not find you pathetic.

 

“Well, you should,” She shrugged, “And not because I’m a-“She made those little air quotes humans insert to show a touch of sarcasm “‘Plus’ Size. I am literally born wrong. My brain chemistry is off and it’s gotten worse as I’ve gotten older. And I can’t afford the meds to stay balanced. I don’t want to get up in the morning. I have severe depression. I lost my last job and the health care that went with it. I had Covid long enough not only to mess me up, but I still haven’t got my sense of smell back and likely never will. It also wiped away a lot of the progress the drugs I had been taking out. Now? Now I’m fired, and my insurance plan is shot. I came up here thinking about death because I’m tired. I’m tired of every sunny day being gray. I’m tired of every flicker of hope I can muster snuffing out like a candle in a windstorm. I’m tired, Slime, of folks telling me everything will be better if I just hold on in a world where no one has a use for me beyond me making them a few bucks while I get pennies. All I do is kill the joy of others around me. I’m a minus in the universal equation. Best to just take me out of it, I think. Isn’t that pathetic?”

This, I realized, was the problem with a species of storytellers. It wasn’t uncommon for them to write of themselves and their own lives, but it was truly sad when the story they gave you was definitely a tragedy. I would almost think there was a hubris to it, to cast yourself as a character of scorn and loathing because that, at least, means you are not invisible. You exist. You existed. Even if you were forgotten after, for one brief moment, your story was told, your play performed, and then? Exit.

 

I could lie to her, and say it wasn’t pathetic at all, that in no way did it entice or encourage pity or sadness. That would be akin to a critic giving a scathing review. I could assure her she had achieved in her goal of patheticness, and give whatever passed for applause in a situation. Either might make her think her story was done.

I did not wish it to be. Muriel? Do you sing?

Muriel was nonplussed about that. At least, I think she was nonplussed. I try to understand human English but I can never remember if nonplussed means bewildered, or unimpressed. If it means both, then it is a very poorly designed word and humans need to get on that. Regardless, by nonplussed, I mean she seemed taken off guard.

Finally, she said “I can sing but it’s nothing to write home about. My range is limited, and I sound better in the shower. Why do you ask?”

I can't sing. I told her Never could. I don't have vocal chords. I CAN make some amazing fart sounds, AND at times, whistle. Some of my people can play their bodies like flutes, but as most humans, unlike you, have functioning olfactory senses? They really don't want me to.

This time, she almost smiled, “You really smell that bad?”

 

I burbled a bit touchily, It’s not MY fault your species has no proper sense of the olfactory opera that is my personal bouquet. You're too easily overwhelmed. Among my people? I am something of a virtuoso.

 

Muriel covered her pie-hole aka mouth with her fingers in a failed attempt to mask amusement. I didn’t mind. If it helped distract her from her challenges, well, a small price to pay that. Finally she inquired, “Is that true?”

 

Extending a glob on top of the bulk of me in what I hoped mimicking hanging my head in just the right amount of faux shame, Maybe. I have not been home in sometime so I figure I get to speak for my entire species and that's the story I want to tell.

“It’s a good story,” She nodded kindly, “You must be very lonely.”

 

I have human friends. They're hideous, but they have good spleens. I assured her. Regardless, I cannot sing. You can. Even if you did it badly, you could do what I cannot do at all. There is a bachelor party I am invited to but a large part of it will be singing. Probably badly. I will be a bit left out. They don't mean insult by it There are sports and company, but it occurs to me, with your help? I might be able to sing through you. In exchange, I will pay you enough money to buy some of your medications. It is a win win. 

 

“You have money?” Muriel was surprised anew.

 

I scrolled an explanation, While NOT the most popular hero, my slime in a jar novelty items are always a big seller at Halloween, and for some reason, the soda I endorsed thanks to my friend Viewpoint was a hit.

This time she didn’t even try to hide her amusement, “Oh my god I saw that commercial. I thought you were CGIed.” And she hummed the jingle.

Contractually obliged, I wrote as she hummed, FOR THE THICK GREEN SODA YOU CAN ALMOST CHEW- IT’S OUT OF THIS WORLD IT’S JUICY GOO!

 

Now she was laughing hard. I did too, in my way, my skin bubbling and releasing without shame. Viewpoint had told me I could do anything I wanted with the money I had. Now I had an idea.

“Don’t you need the money for yourself.. I don’t know, room and board and …” She started to say once she recovered.

I eat pigeons, and I don't mean squab. I mean off the ledges. There's always food for me. I can sleep anywhere as long as it is not too wet, and as for clothes? I find them confining.

 

“Oh wow, I’m talking to a naked alien,” She shook her head as that little truth kicked in.

Kind of a let down from a young Jeff Bridges in STARMAN, isn't it? My point is, I have the money, you have a voice. These guys are cool, and I promise will not harrass you. If they try anything, I'll deal with it. You are safe with me. Help a fellow Milkywayan out?

 

“Well, it buys me one more week of not wanting to kill myself, sure, what’s a bit of public embarrassment?”

 

We made our way down, I escorted her, then told her to wait while I filled in the others. They’d all have to wear masks, of course, but that was fine. I must say, Eel was a very good sport about it; they all were. Once I explained, they were completely onboard. Tino even apologized for not giving me even more things to do to make up for the karaoke. I told him that with Muriel’s helping me, he didn’t need to.

It was actually a very good time!

The selection was outdated but enjoyable. Viewpoint probably had the best voice of all the humans, judging by the pleased sigh Muriel gave during it and the pheromones she released ( I didn’t tell). Caleb’s rendition of uptown girl got some amused looks from Tino, who covertly recorded to give to his niece later. He then had his turn, as did Hussar. Muriel read me like a teleprompter so WE could perform Flying Purple People eater together. Each of us had more than one go, but as the drinks went around, the quality did admittedly dip though the fun did not.

And later, when Arctic Fox asked me if some woman had performed for we fellows? I would answer that yes, a very brave lady who had the courage to post pone her tragic story and begin writing a new one. And her name was Muriel.

 

(The End)

[Hermit]

I apologize for the long gap between that. I did my 50000, but I wasn't sure I LIKED some of the stories so decided to rework a few before posting them. Then things came up and brain went 'zzzz'

[Lawnmower Boy]

Well, not the multipart galaxy-saving epic I was hoping for, I liked it! 

 

 

[BoloOfEarth]

I enjoyed it.  You did a good job giving Slime enough "alien-ness" while making his POV all make sense.  And I like the idea of him having a human friend outside the superhero set.  (Nice that a COVID-induced lack of sense of smell works in her favor there, too.)

 

I hope your brain is done going "zzzz" and things are going better for you now.  

[Hermit]

Thank you both. You're very kind...for flaking solids

[Lawnmower Boy]

8 hours ago, Hermit said:

Thank you both. You're very kind...for flaking solids

I'm stiff and angular!