My dear Literati!
Okay, real talk, I suck at introducing people in AWWYP. It always comes across strangely. This new submission from Russ is worthy of better. So here’s a poem:
Space, the final frontier…
Oh wait, that’s not mine. Well, I tried. Here’s Russ’ newest entry!
Keep Your Hand off My Poodle
by Russell Shor
“Not this place!” Female 11A96 peered through the viewer at a cluster of battered trailer homes, cannibilized trucks and a group of earthlings in a circle chanting some strange noise. “You think I’m this cheap?”
“I..I..just thought—” Male 42Y88. “You liked what you saw in the brochure.” 42Y retrieved it from the glove compartment of his space craft rental and read it back to her.
“Roswell, Earth. Crossroads of the Galaxy!”
“Vacation with your interstellar neighbors while you mingle with primitive local tribes”
A hologram showed space vehicles of every sort parked with various species, taking human form, cavorting, nearly naked, around a colossal bonfire.
The back of the brochure instructed visitors how to make friends with local tribespeople by handing out little plastic bags filled with dried leaves that they could roll up and smoke.
11A checked the barren landscape again, folded her arms over her breast and demanded, “Take me back to Zoltar!”
42Y shook his head. “We’re here already.” He unzipped a small travel bag and held up a pink garment. “I really want to see you in this poodle skirt.” He opened it and held it in front of her face. “And remember: If you’re not here after what I’m here after, you’ll be here after I’m gone.”
She glared at him. “At least you could have brought me to a nicer place. I know a hot pillow joint when I see one. That dumpy motel outside.” She hissed at him. “You think you’re taking me there?”
42Y paid her no mind. “By the way, your Earth name is Lizzie.” He tossed the travel bag. “And call me Walter.”
Lizzie grabbed the hatch handle but Walter stopped her. How ‘bout a little smoogie to start our trip?”
“Never! You’re way too ugly.!” Lizzie grabbed her suitcase, popped the hatch and jumped out, the ship’s sensor automatically giving her human form. She hurried, pulling her suitcase down the desert highway with Walter following her yelling that he’d paid for this trip and Lizzie was going to give him his money’s worth. The heat had started to slow her down but she kept trudging until she reached a low gray building that stood all by itself on the roadside. Dew Drop Inn. Her English sensor informed her that was a clever name.
Inside, the local tribesmen all sat around holding vials of the same amber colored liquid. One of them, a male wearing a red and black checked shirt offered to buy her one in exchange for her name. It took a bit of time for the English sensor signal to get to Zoltar and back again, so her answer “Lizzie” arrived late.
The male laughed and started singing “Lizzie Borden took an ax and gave her mama forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her papa forty-one.”
While she awaited the translation, she could hear Walter’s voice outside, getting closer. The translation came in and Lizzie nodded to a red handled implement mounted on the wall. “What’s that?” she asked the male.
“Why that’s an ax,” He passed her a flirty leer. “Little girl.”
“Will the name, Walter, fit in your song?” The male looked perplexed. He apparently could not hear Walter who’s voice was now coming from right outside.
“Sure it will, little girl.”
The translation came back quickly. She smiled, hefted the ax from the wall and winked, “be right back, Big Boy.”
There’s still time to enter this contest…and with Christmas so close, give us the gift! Otherwise, Russ and the Towers might have an axe to grind with you.