A Tale of Two Gorgeknots, Part II
By: Phil Truman
Tags: Short Fiction, Short Story, Science Fiction, Humor, Fiction

“Orri-har ham-de sloog.” The primary said, then sucked in a work glove which floated four feet away. The secondary followed immediately by slurpin’ in a dust ball enshrouded empty food package that hovered under the kick plate of the forward console and bobbed back into its tub.

“Sure you do, dung breath,” Nixon said. “Youse probably want we should be your next pizza.”

“What?” I asked.

“It said it had a solution.”

“Well, let’s hear it.”

Whereupon the primary went into a semi-lengthy discourse. Nixon nodded now and then and sneezed occasionally. I went over to the corner and retched. The secondary, after a polite interval, slurped up the emesis from afar.

Eventually, the primary signaled the end of its monologue by emitting a juicy frapping sound from somewhere on its being. Nixon turned to me to explain.

“Youse ain’t gonna believe dis, but deez mugs say they can survive in deep space indefinitely. They goes into dis sorta, uh, whaddaya callit, a sleepin’ thing, it’s a, oh, you know…”

“Dormancy? Hibernation?”

“Yeah, dat’s it!. Well, anyways, they goes doormat and can stay dat way forever.”

“But what about us?”

“Ve die in zee tub, boobala.”

“Nom-bi, Nom-beee! Tool-har imba duub rhesh!” thundered the primary.

“Meegle meegle meeeeegle!” appended the secondary with falsetto emphasis.

“What’re they so excited about, Nixon? Is there more?

“Nyet,” she said.

“Yoosh-ba! Yoosh!” said the primary.

“Nix, we ain’t got time for this. Gimme the rest!”

“Oh, man, it ain’t no thing. The puke ball it say we can slide into its cheeks. You be in the primary, me in the secondary. It say it got a pouch or sumpin in the side its mouth. He say it be used for storin’ extra food. I say thas booshee, man. It’s a muhfuggin trick, man. All them smelly things want t’do is eat our ass, man. Ain’t no kinda storage pouch, sheee.”

“You mean to tell me they want us to climb inside… geck… inside their mouths and punched out the lock chute?”

“Damn straight, Jack. All them muhfugs think about be eatin’. They just want a good last supper before they go into the big black. Y’know what m’sayin? We’re talkin’ a bite fo’ da night, home. A chomp fo’ da chumps.”

“Nom-bi, nom-bi! Tharsh-har mnob frrrue!”

“Noodle, meek, meek!”

“Now hold on a minute. The whole reason these things sail with us is because they provide everything we need to survive in space.” I tried to recall my schoolboy science.

“Seems they manufacture things like oxygen, nitrogen, hydrox, lithuanians, magnesium manipulate, potassium propagate, sulfuric crowbait, monosodium glutius, dioxy-rhino-newclamore acid, carbon tetrazzini, amaretto, and many more essentials for life.”

“They stink!”

“Well, of course they do. But you can’t let a little thing like stink get in the way. We’re talking survival here, Nix. The bottom line is, if we don’t trust ’em and go with ’em as they say, we’re quasar meat. What’ve we got to lose?”

A two-toned bleat issued from the console and the message changed and rolled across the screen:

DESTRUCT SEQuE..SEQUIN..SEqUEL..SEquENc DoInG NIcELY

please ReMAIN sEEtED while THE FLIght PRETENDERS Prepare for an EaRLY ARRIVAL…DEPARTURE…ARRIVAL…

“Yoosh,” the primary added with finality.

Nixon looked at me with an expression of pure loathing and revulsion.

“Nix, we’re going in. There ain’t no way out. At least this way there’s maybe a chance.” I grabbed her by the scruff of her short hairy neck and tossed her into the waiting maw of the secondary Gorgeknot. I stood there looking at Nixon, wondering if maybe being vaporized wasn’t better than being turned into Gorgeknot excrement after all, and was about to say so when I saw Nixon’s eyes grow wide with terror.

“Great horny toads!” I heard her say just before the Gorgeknot’s slimy lips snapped shut around her.

I didn’t have time to reflect. I moved the Gorgeknot tubs quickly through the inner doors of the lock chute, set the timer on the outer doors to a minute, and stepped into the waiting jaws of the primary.

The last thing I saw was the changing message on the red view screen:

50 sEconDs to DESTRuct

PlEase fASTEN Your SeETBells…bARBELTS…SeatBars

and DistINGUISH ALL SMOgIng…smOKING…MAAMMALS

5 SECONDS TO DETROIT

rETURN YOUR seetbarks to an…

…5 mINUtes to DENEB…

FORTHRIGHT pOSItion…

PLEASE standby FOR TOTAL ANNIHILATION

Image by JL G from Pixabay

THANK YOU…

HaVE aN ice TRAy