There was an eviction notice on the door, and the manager (his name started with an S, I think) had changed the locks. I used my bloody tire iron to get inside, and in the darkened room, chuckling to myself, I opened the special delivery.
Empty.
Enraged, I hurled the box away, but my fury dissolved almost as soon as it came. I didn’t know what I’d expected. I’d lost everything in my servitude, and my act hadn’t been one of obedience or devotion, but of hubris and sacrilege. I’d betrayed the pizza, and it had repaid me in kind.
I sat in the dark, laughing, crying. I’d damned myself, and the painful truth was that I would do so again, given the opportunity.
The box shuffled across the floor. I wiped my tears away to watch as it dragged itself by a single long tendril. The box, the thing, the box and the thing for they were one and the same, hopped around in comical bursts. More writhing tentacles and a single giant eye on a long stalk pushed out of the box. The thing grew bigger as it stumbled blindly. Its eye was mostly closed, save for a small slit.
The room grew darker with each passing moment.
Someone knocked on my door. I could only stare at the thing as it prepared to destroy me for my transgressions. A tentacle wrapped around my ankle, and some small instinct caused me to lash out with my tire iron. A second undulating limb ripped the weapon from my hand and threw it across the room. The thing squirmed its way up my legs. Its eye opened a little more, to peer into my putrid, imperfect soul.
The door exploded in a blast of lightning. Both myself and the thing paused as another tentacle creature with one eye floated into the room. Behind it followed a fuzzy green thing with a head that was only a mouth and another larger mouth set in its round belly.
“Ah hell, we might be too late,” said the floating eyeball.
His eye crackled with strange energies. A moment later, a bolt of cosmic power blew a hole through the wall. And the wall behind that. And the wall behind that. The pizza thing shrieked as its blackened, slimy flesh sizzled.
“I got this,” said the furry green beast as he seized one of the pizza god’s tentacles and shoved it into his gut.
“Don’t eat the guy,” said the floating eye.
The eating monster grumbled with his mouths full as he chewed down the pizza god. It was an ordeal. My god didn’t want to be devoured, and he fought against every bite. But the green creature slowly consumed his prey, and I could only sit there and watch.
The green monster wiped his chin. His cheeks bulged as he spit up a little bit of tentacle before swallowing it down again.
“Are you going to be able to keep that down?” asked the eyeball.
“Are you kidding me?” He chewed and gulped. “This is what I do. I could probably use an antacid though. Lesser horrors always give me gas.”
He belched.
“What have you done?” I asked. “That was my god.”
“That was my pizza,” said the green monster. “And you’re crazy if you think I’m going to pay for it. Forget about the tip, for that matter.”
“That was yours?” I asked.
“Special delivery,” said the eyeball. “A thing from another world that doesn’t belong in this universe. Not that we do either, but at least we try to limit the damage.”
I tried standing on shaky legs but could only fall to my knees before these terrible creatures. “Are you going to kill me now?”
“We’d be doing you a favor if we did,” said the green monster. “And I am a bit peckish.”
“Hold your appetite, big guy,” said the eyeball. “Greater good. He has to live.”
Laughter wracked my body. I wasn’t living. I hadn’t been living for a very long time.
“Yeah, but it still seems like a rotten proposition for the poor guy,” said the eating monster.
“It’s a cruel universe,” said the eyeball, and there was some sympathy in his voice.
They left me there, in my darkened hollow. How long I lay there, sobbing or laughing, I couldn’t say. But eventually, I climbed out of the emptiness and, with nothing else to do, I went back to Pizza Madness.
Mr. Han was there. I wanted to tell him of my crimes against the Old Man, against the pizza. Before I could, he dropped a box on the counter.
“Special delivery,” he said.
I took the box without thinking, and realized that by slaying the Old Man, I had proved myself worthy after all. I smiled. It’d all been worth it. I’d been forgiven my sins, and the prize was mine.
“Hey, kid,” said Mr. Han. “Remember. I said you didn’t want this job.”
He was wrong. I wanted it more than anything, and as I climbed into my car, I realized I knew exactly where to go for this delivery. I would always know.
I pulled to a stop outside the old apartment building. The same building I’d killed the Old Man outside of. I knocked on the front door, and the green monster answered.
“Right on time.” He took the pizza from me and shoved it into his mouth, swallowing it whole. The thing inside the box shrieked a little and the green monster had to shove a bit of tentacle down. He handed me a twenty dollar bill and with both his mouths smiling, he instructed me to “Keep the change.”
I returned to Pizza Madness, but there were no more special deliveries today. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps the day after that. I would carry the thing in the box to the green monster, whom would eat it for another day.
I am the keeper of the wretched thing. The eternal warden of that which cannot die but must never be let loose. It lives forever, in the box that I carry and feed to the grinning green hungry god. Though I cannot live forever myself, I know that one day, when I am the Old Man, I shall see headlights bearing down on me in the darkness, ending my duty, beginning it anew in the unkind illusion of time.
###
CINDY AND CRAGG
Emperor Mollusk versus the Sinister Brain
When first creating the Saturnites, a race of rock-based aliens, as antagonists to evil genius, Emperor Mollusk, I knew I had to do more with them. Cragg has a blink and you’ll miss it part in the original novel, but like Ogbunabali, god of death, Cragg won me over instantly. This was a guy, down on his luck, living on a world he didn’t really belong on, disgraced and thoroughly defeated. He’s down and most definitely out, but life goes on. I think we can all relate.
Cindy hated dates.
She hated first dates even more.
Thankfully, this wasn’t a date. It was just a social gathering of employees in a Mexican restaurant. She didn’t even want to go, but it was a corporate morale booster thing. If she didn’t go, she’d have to make excuses to all the other employees and have to talk to a manager (maybe two) about her lack of teamwork. She would have to resist the urge the entire time to point out that she was a cashier at a supermarket and that the job hardly required commando-level training or loyalty.
So she’d go. It would be easier to give up one evening of her life rather than deal with all that.
“Mom, you aren’t going to wear that, are you?”
Laura stood in the doorway. She was at that age when she knew better than her mother and wasn’t shy about saying so. Not that she was a rude child. Just a little more self-assured on certain subjects than she had any right to be. It was the blessing of youth, and Cindy was reluctant to crush it. The world would get around to that soon enough.
“What’s wrong with it?” asked Cindy. The blue dress wasn’t anything fancy, but it looked nice. She was self-conscious of her butt. The years had added a few pounds, and she didn’t take care of herself like she should. Although she noted with complete self-awareness that taking care of oneself usually translated into denying the slow, inevitable advance of years.
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked again.
Laura shrugged. She loved to shrug. Sometimes, with one shoulder. Sometimes, with both. Sometimes, silently. Sometimes, with an exasperated sigh. But it always meant the same thing. Mom didn’t get it.
Cin
dy freely admitted this was probably true.
“So who is this guy?” asked Laura.
“Just a guy I work with.” Cindy was vague in hopes Laura would lose interest in the question. It failed. Ironically, if Cindy had tried talking to her about it, she probably would’ve.
“Ah, yes, Craig the cashier from the supermarket,” said Laura. “Aim high, Mom.”
“He’s a stock boy,” mumbled Cindy. “And his name’s Cragg.”
“Whatever.”
She liked saying whatever a lot too. And if she was in the mood, she might even combine it with a shrug, though that was usually more effort than she was willing to employ.
“I think it’s good that you’re going out,” said Laura. “Been—what--like two years since the last one?”
Cindy closed her eyes and put her hands to her face. “God, please, don’t remind me.”
Laura put her hand on Cindy’s shoulder. “Mom, you’re cool. The dress is cool. You’ll be fine. And I’m sure Cragg is . . . well . . . I doubt he’s cool considering he’s a stock boy, but I’m sure he’s cool enough. You don’t want him to be too cool, right?”
She smiled and gave Cindy a hug. It was times like these, buried under the shrugs and whatevers, that Cindy decided she had a pretty good daughter.
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.”
Laura sprang from the room and toward the front door before Cindy could stop her. Cindy groaned. She’d hoped Laura would be out with her friends tonight, but she’d known this was coming.
“Holy crap!” shouted Laura from the front door.
Cindy took a second to comb her hair once more and adjust her dress. She considered changing out heels and into flats. This wasn’t supposed to be a high heels kind of thing. But the heels were already on, and she just wanted to get this over with.
Cragg, a hulking mass of stone in a bright blue tuxedo with fringe around the collar, stood in the center of the living room with some red roses in his hand.
“Mom, why didn’t you mention your date was a Saturnite?”
Cindy prided herself as a good mother, though she was tempted to slap the smirk off her daughter’s face.
“I didn’t think it was important.”
Cragg awkwardly thrust the bouquet at Cindy. “These for you.”
She didn’t take them, and he frowned at the flowers.
“Lopez in meats said this was Terran tradition.”
Laura took the bouquet and transferred it to her mother. “They’re lovely. Aren’t they, Mom?” She elbowed Cindy, who nodded.
“Yes, yes, lovely.”
“So what are you two crazy kids up to tonight?” asked Laura.
“A bonding exercise with the rest of the Super Plus Mart squadron,” said Cragg.
“Sounds good,” said Laura. She nudged Cindy again.
“Yes, sounds good.”
This was a bad idea. She sized up the giant alien of stone. What the hell had she been thinking with this?
“So Cragg, I bet you killed a lot of Terrans during the Saturnite wars,” said Laura.
Cindy wished her daughter would stop saying things. Although she was the only one keeping the awkward silence at bay.
Cragg nodded. “Yes. Many.”
“Too bad about what happened to Saturn in the end though,” said Laura. “No hard feelings.”
He frowned.
Cindy glanced at her watch in an exaggerated manner, like a pantomime clown acting it out. “Look at the time. We need to get going.”
She hustled Cragg out the front door. A big rig truck was parked in front of their house. Like all Saturnites, Cragg was every bit as heavy as a being of living stone would be, and he needed a vehicle with muscle to get him around.
“Have fun, you two,” said Laura. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Have her home by eleven, big guy.”
Cragg helped Cindy into the truck with a gentle palm push on her butt, then climbed in on his side. The rig rocked as he did so.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “She thinks she’s clever.”
“You let your offspring determine your curfew?”
“It was a joke. She was joking.”
He grunted.
God, she hated first dates.
They didn’t talk in the truck. Cindy thought about saying something, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Then she settled on “Nice night, isn’t it?”, but Cragg opened his mouth as if to speak just then and it threw her off.
He was only yawning.
Cragg didn’t appear to mind the silence, but he was hard to read. Not that he talked a lot. He was a pretty quiet guy. Saturnites were quiet generally. She didn’t know a whole heck of a lot about their culture, but she had yet to meet one who liked small talk.
The longer the silence lasted, the more impenetrable it became. It was only when they reached the restaurant and climbed out of the truck that she felt enabled to break it.
“Why did you ask me out?”
He blinked at her. Blankly.
“Why did you say yes?”
“You can’t answer a question with a question.”
Cragg didn’t reply.
“If you aren’t going to tell me, we can call this thing off right now,” she said. “Probably better if we did.”
“You remind me of my favored vulkon in my original birthing basalt.”
“Vulkon?”
“There isn’t an exact Terran translation. It is a sort of caretaker who supervises new young.”
“Like a mother?”
Cragg nodded. “Something like that, yes.”
“So I remind you of your mother?”
“Yes. In a way.”
He smiled, though his smiles were slight and his gray rock face devoid of many features. It took him a while to notice she wasn’t smiling back at him.
“Is that offensive?”
She said, “No. Not really. It’s not something a girl likes to hear, but at least it’s honest.”
“Why did you say yes?” he asked.
“I’m a forty-something divorcee with a kid and a dead end job. It’s not as if I’ve got a lot of prospects. But just for the record, I don’t think we should call this a date. If the others ask, we aren’t together. We’re just arriving . . . together.”
“Agreed.”
He walked away without offering her his arm, and she hobbled after him. It was a struggle to keep up. She should’ve worn flats.
She studied him from behind. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, but he was large and powerful, and he embodied a stolid stoicism that she found attractive in Terran males. He might have been made out of stone (She still wasn’t clear if Saturnites were actually made of stone or just resembled it) but he seemed to possess all the reliability and stability of the mountains. Or perhaps that was simply her imagination.
They found their coworkers sitting around a table in a small private room in the back of the restaurant. Despite reservations, she entered the room beside Cragg. All eyes turned toward them, and conversation died down. The mariachi music playing over the sound system made things somehow more awkward.
Cindy waved. “Hello.”
Everyone returned to their conversations, and Anthony, the grocery store manager, came over to greet them. He wore a big smile and a blue sports jacket.
“Hey, you two. Glad you could make it.” He glanced between them. “You two aren’t here—”
“This isn’t a date,” said Cragg.
Cindy scooted a few inches away from him. “We just came together.”
Anthony winked. His wink was perverse. His thin mustache and smarmy demeanor helped. Upon first meeting him, Cindy had told herself it was unfair to judge a man for such choices and that just because she disliked jewelry on men (and wasn’t too fond of it on women either), she needn’t think the worst of him because he wore a pinkie ring. It was only after she’d gotten to know him that she gave herself permission to hold a low opinion of Anthony.
; “You’re looking good, babe,” he said.
“She doesn’t like to be called babe,” said Cragg.
“Oh, it’s a party, big guy. Lighten up.” Anthony smacked Cragg on the arm. “We’re just here to have a good time. Isn’t that right, babe?”
“Right,” she said.
“Mind if I borrow the little lady for a bit?”
“Actually—” said Cragg.
“Great. Thanks.” Anthony put his hand on her back, a little lower than she was comfortable with, and pushed her away. Anthony directed her to a corner of the room. “Really? You’d rather come with Mount Everest over there than me?”
“We didn’t come together,” she replied. “We just came . . . together.”
“Hey, I get it. You’re into weird stuff. It’s cool.” He grinned. “Maybe we could be into weird stuff together.”
Cragg loomed over Anthony. “Is there a problem here, Cindy?”
“No problem.” She shoved Anthony aside. “Let’s grab a drink.”
“Would you like me to crush him for you?” asked Cragg in a low whisper.
“Oh, don’t trouble yourself.”
“No trouble. I’ve always hated that guy.” He chuckled.
She didn’t know if he meant it or if he was being nice. Either way, it was sweet of him to offer.
No one else commented on Cragg and Cindy’s indeterminate dating state, and things were going smoothly enough until Cindy once again found herself cornered. Not by Anthony, this time, but by a tall Saturnite server with a polished obsidian face. The Saturnite was taller than Cragg, but thinner. Positively svelte by Saturnite standards, though still wide and stocky.
Cindy waved away the server’s tray of quesadilla bites. “No, thank you. I’m good.”
She tried to maneuver around the server, but the Saturnite stepped in her way.
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