And God Belched

by Rob Rosen

  He looked at Britney. “If we fired our weapons, would the cloaking device be momentarily deactivated?” She nodded. “And could you fire on a timer, say if we’re not in the truck at the time?” Again, she nodded.

  “Brilliant,” said Dad.

  A faint blush spread across Milo’s cheeks. “Must be contagious, sir.”

  “But wait,” said Mom. “We can’t fire at the building in front of us. Tag is in there. Justin Timberlake is in there. Plus, it’s armored.”

  Milo nodded. “This is a government vehicle. What if we queried the truck, found out where their system controls are? The building Tag is in, Justin Timberlake is in, it’s a prison, not a weapon’s control center. Whatever is protecting the prison, theoretically, must be someplace else. If we found that place, then we could fire everything we have there, possibly do some damage, possibly also weaken the defenses of the prison.”

  I patted his shoulder. Flesh met flesh. Three-two-one contact. In other words, fine, despite the circumstances, which were dire at best, I popped a boner—with my parents and brother a foot away. Thankfully, Curean clothes were, shall we say, protective. “One more time: brilliant.”

  “Yeah, well,” he said. “That Z chromosome does come in handy.”

  Craig snickered as he pointed my way. “Not for everybody.”

  I ignored the comment as I turned to Britney. She was already waving her hands, images on the screen flashing by, lightning fast. “Locked,” she said. “Everything locked, protected.” Her hands kept frantically waving, grabbing at the air, flicking this way and that. All the while, the images kept racing by. We all waited, breaths so baited they could catch a school of fish. Then, at last, an image remained frozen on the screen. Britney’s face was red by that point, but at least she was finally smiling. “There,” she said, pointing dead ahead. “I entered through an old system. Thankfully, the building we seek is, um, old.”

  FYI, it was big and metal, gleaming in its newishness. It looked like all the other buildings I’d seen. If it was old, it hid its age well. In any case, there it was and here we were and there we would soon be.

  “How far?” I asked.

  Britney again waved her hands. “Two Earth hours, total, there and back.”

  My groan returned. “But we need to be there and then get back here,” I said.

  Mom also groaned. “And we won’t have the truck anymore.”

  Dad’s groan made it an unhappy trio. “And we’ll be two hours away from here, away from Tag, away from Justin Timberlake. What if they need us?”

  Milo raised his hand. “And how are we going to make it back here?” He pointed at the screen. “That’s just outside the city. No public transportation. Plus, we’re on wanted posters everywhere by now. That’s a long time to be outside in the open, if we can even find a way back.”

  I grinned as I pointed at all the men. “Yeah, but we’re not monks on any of those posters.”

  “Brilliant,” said Milo.

  Craig, of course, rolled his eyes. “First time for everything.”

  “But what about us women?” asked Mom.

  I looked at Milo. “I seem to recall hearing about nuns on Planet Six.”

  He grinned. “Yes.” A chuckle spewed forth, lighting my soul like a torch in the darkness. Sappy, sure, but true. “And bald as well, red clothes instead of black.”

  Mom gulped. “Bald?”

  I patted her arm. “You’ll match Dad.”

  “Bald?” she repeated.

  “You’ll match me and Craig,” I tried.

  She stared at me. “But bald?”

  “Nuns eat fruit and vegetables.”

  I turned to him, nonplussed. “Wait, what?”

  “Fruits and vegetables,” he replied. “Those are the correct words, right? Food produced by trees, by the soil?”

  I blinked. “Yes, those are the correct words. But why do we eat paste if you have fruits and vegetables.”

  He shrugged. “We eat what is provided; the nuns eat only of the earth. It is the old way, the way of their order.”

  I turned to Mom. “You should’ve gone bald sooner.”

  She nodded. “Worth it.” She gulped. “Probably.”

  Oh, hell to the no, no probably about it; I’d take bald over paste anytime. ANYTIME!

  § § § §

  So, that’s how we wound up at yet another secret government building, five of us dressed in black, three of us in red, all of us very much bald, five of us smiling like cats, post-canary, three of us frowning like canaries, post-cat. And I think you can guess who was who in that scenario.

  Dad rubbed Mom’s head. “You look beautiful, honey.”

  “I look like Sinead O’Connor.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  She frowned. “Please don’t,” she said, looking baldly miffed.

  I shrugged. I thought she looked pretty nifty, actually. Hipster cool. Especially in all that snug red. In any case, I turned to Britney. “Ready?”

  Once again, her hands were waving at the screen as if she’d seen a friend she hadn’t run into in ages. In other words, or word, frantically. “Almost,” she said. “Everyone vacate. I’ll be outside in a minute. Then walk away fast because I can, it seems, only program this truck for five Earth minutes out.”

  I gulped. “That enough time to get away?”

  She shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

  We all stared at her as if she was crazy. Then again, all of this was crazy, so her comment was simply par for the course.

  In any case, as she’d told us to, we vacated. Bye-bye truck; hello open road.

  Another minute later, she joined us. A second later, five monks and three nuns could be seen racing down said open road. Somewhere in all that, there was a joke. Sadly, no one was in a joking mood—present company included. I mean, you tell a joke when your heart is racing like Seabiscuit running a final lap and sweat is flowing down your back like the mighty Mississippi.

  A minute went by.

  Two minutes went by.

  Three minutes went by.

  If you’re sensing a pattern here, bravo for you.

  So, let’s just skip ahead.

  Five minutes went by.

  And then…BOOOOOM!

  The truck, as planned, had shot out every weapon in its arsenal. I know this because, though said arsenal was largely silent, the explosions that soon occurred were not. Was the building we fired at armored? I suppose it was, though it clearly was no match for our truck. Maybe because the building was old and had never been upgraded. Or maybe the government never figured that anyone would try to blow it up. Either way, blow up it did. Like I said, BOOOOOM!

  One minute we were racing and sweating, the next, we were being flung out and down, fire and smoke and debris whooshing up into the sky in an inferno we only thankfully tangentially felt and smelled and heard. So yes, a five-minute head start was enough, if only by a hair. The only casualty was our truck, which had been blown up by the enemy just as the enemy was also being blown up, as planned.

  We all slowly rose and quickly turned.

  Eyes wide, we then all stared at each other, smiles slowly rising up our sweaty, dusty, monky, nunny, faces.

  “Huh,” I said.

  Craig nodded. “Yep, huh.”

  The building was toast. The building, in fact, was a whole factory of Wonder Bread toast.

  We all cheered our success. And since we were finally in a joking mood, here you go:

  A monk and a nun are throwing darts inside a monastery. The monk throws his dart and misses the board. “Oh shit, I missed,” the monk says.

  To which the nun says, “Don’t say that here; this is a holy place.”

  The monk assures her that he will not say it again and throws his next dart. It misses the board. “Oh shit, I missed.”

  The nun then exclaims, “Do not say that here. The Lord will smite you.” And, as if to back up the claim, thunder rumbles in the distance.

  “Okay, okay,
” says the monk, “I won’t say it again.”

  The monk throws the third dart and again misses the board. “Oh shit, I missed.”

  All at once, lightning strikes the nun. A rumbling voice from heaven then booms out, “Oh shit, I missed.”

  § § § §

  The joking mood quickly faded. We were, after all, outside the city, bald, dusty, and very much without transportation. FYI, Planet Six didn’t have cabs or Uber. Also FYI, hitchhiking probably wouldn’t work, what with there being eight of us, and all. And so, we began to walk, and fast, because the government would soon be looking for the perpetrators, namely us.

  We moved off the road, finding a path through a stretch of orange grass. There was barely any traffic, but it was safer to not be spotted. I mean, five monks and three nuns along the side of the road was a pretty conspicuous sight—or so I’m guessing.

  Twenty minutes later, we saw a farm. I mean, I was guessing it was a farm. It looked, you know, farmy. Sterile-looking, sure, but farmy just the same.

  “Farm,” said Milo.

  See!

  “How do you know?” asked my mom. “I don’t see any crops or animals?”

  Milo pointed down. “Crops.”

  Craig scratched his head. “This orange stuff?”

  Milo nodded. “They make the paste out of it.”

  I shook my head. I breathed in. It smelled fresh there, rather nice, actually. And the grass was the most beautiful shade of orange. Carrotty, in fact. “This, this pretty grass makes that awful grey paste?”

  Cher nodded as she reached down and ran her hands through it, smiling all the while. “Among other things, or so I’ve heard.”

  Weird, I thought. Such a nice grass, such gross paste. I reached down and yanked at it, a handful soon in my palm. I took a munch. I promptly spit it out, my face scrunched up as I spat and spat and spat some more.

  “Nope,” I said with a grimace. “Tastes just like the paste, only orangier.” Figured, right?

  Still, all was not hopeless. We soon approached a house. It was metal, large. Best of all, there was a floating metal box off to its side. Was it a truck, a bus, a tractor? No clue. It was a box. It was floating. There was so little variety on Planet Six, even in their vehicles. It was a beautiful world. It was a boring world. Everyone was stunning. It all seemed so wasted.

  I loved Milo. I wished I could save him from this place, but, if things turned out as planned, I’d be as trapped here as he was, as they all were.

  Still, for the time being, we had bigger fish to fry. Or, you know, floating boxes to pilfer. Was I loathe to steal? Let me ask you a better question: was I loathe to blow up a government building? Better still: was I eager to save my entire planet? Yeah, so there’s your answer: greater good, people. Greater good. Plus, if I’d thought about it too much, I would’ve probably gone crazy. In other words, I was acting, not thinking. Worked for me.

  Which is why we were sneaking into the floating box a moment later. Turned out, it wasn’t a truck or a bus or a tank. Nope, it was—be still my heart—a food transport vehicle. And that sucker was stock full of fruits and vegetables of every size and shape and smell and texture. And yes, my Curean friends had to inform me of this because none of it looked like any sort of fruit or vegetable I’d ever seen before.

  I went to eat one, when Cher’s hand landed on mine. “Illegal,” she said.

  I grinned. “We’re steeling the vehicle we’re in, Cher. We just blew up a government building.” She removed her hand. I held a round, purple fruit to my mouth—though, hey, it could’ve been a vegetable. “So yeah, I’m going to illegally be eating this. I mean, this purple beauty isn’t weighing too heavily on my soul right about now.”

  I chomped down. I moaned involuntarily. I hadn’t eaten anything but paste for far too long. This fruit—or was it a vegetable?—was pure, unadulterated heaven, its juices flowing down my chin as I took another massive bite. I suddenly wished there were words that rhymed with purple so that I could write a poem about it.

  “Oh my God,” I finally uttered. “What the hell is this?”

  Milo looked at the fruit or vegetable hungrily. He told me the word for it. There were far too many consonants for something that tasted so yummy. I held it up to him. Oddly, he backed away. “Like my mother said, it’s illegal. Food is only for the nuns.”

  I grinned. I handed something bright and shiny and pink to Cher. “Well then, thankfully, we have a few on board.”

  Britney was pulling the vehicle away from the farm as Cher reluctantly took the proffered food. She smiled at me shyly. “First time,” she said.

  “For this particular…”

  “Fruit,” she said.

  “Yes, first time for this fruit?”

  Milo shook his head. “We have never eaten anything but paste. Ever. None of us. No one but the nuns.”

  My eyes went wide. I took a bite of something half blue, half green. It was even more extraordinary than the purple thing. I held the remainder to him. He held it to his mouth. Cher had a pink edible held to hers. Mother and son at last bit into the forbidden fruit. Or maybe it was the forbidden vegetable. Either way, they bit, eyes fluttering as soon as the juices hit their tongues.

  “Mmm,” said Cher, a smile spreading wide across her exquisite face.

  “God,” said Milo, mouth full as he chewed.

  I nodded and took a bite of something yellow with swirls of red. “Yeah, this’ll make you believe in a higher power, for sure.”

  Britney turned from the driver’s seat. Not that there was an actual seat, but still. “Toss me something!”

  I tossed. She ate. I tossed. Sonny ate. I tossed and tossed. Mom and Dad ate. In other words, in seconds, we were devouring the fruit and/or vegetables. And then—surprise, surprise—I had my own brilliant idea, which, for now, I was keeping to myself. Mainly because I like to spring my brilliance on people. That’s because, like the Spring, I only bloom for such a short period each year.

  In any case, we were once again on track, heading to the city, heading to Tag, to Justin Timberlake, to the, gulp, unknown.

  To our fates, really.

  Heck, even to your fate, right?

  § § § §

  Halfway back, Sonny’s watch beeped.

  In all the excitement, and with our chins various shades of yellow and green and red and blue and orange, we almost forgot about Tag’s mission. At once, everyone stopped eating and stared at Sonny’s watch.

  “Hello?” Sonny said into it.

  “Sonny,” Tag said. “Hello to you as well. I have news.”

  It was nice to hear his voice. Terrifying, but nice. “Of the good variety or the bad?” I asked.

  “Not possible to say yet,” he replied. “For now, simply news.”

  “Spill it,” said Craig.

  “Spill?” said Tag. “I have nothing to spill. In fact, I can’t hold anything in order to be able to spill. It is one of my few flaws. I cannot sing all that well either. Monotone does not translate well to harmony.”

  I held up my hand for him to stop, even though he couldn’t see it. “Just tell us the news, please.”

  “Right,” he said. “I found the portal.” We all clapped. We all cheered. We all promptly stopped clapping and cheering when he said, “There is a self-contained system protecting it. It is impossible to break into it from the outside. It is also heavily armored. I have never seen the technology. It does not exist in any databases. I am not sure what weapon can destroy it. Such a weapon, if it exists, I can only assume, would also destroy much of the surrounding city, thereby killing innocent civilians.”

  “We have no weapons anymore, anyway, Tag,” I told him. “Besides what we stole from the prison, we have nothing. And I doubt those can help us now.” I sighed. “Can’t Justin Timberlake help us? Maybe somehow turn off the protective system?”

  Justin Timberlake answered for himself. “I am a scientist, Randy. I have no knowledge of such systems. I have no access to anything b
eyond my lab. I was able to walk Tag around, allow his systems to access what he could, but beyond that, we have exhausted all other possibilities.”

  I nodded. We had one other option then. “The invasion will occur there, though,” I said. “It has to. And when it does, the protective system will be deactivated. Only then will we be able to destroy the portal.”

  “That is correct,” said Tag. “Though one would assume that, at that time, every spare weapon in this building will be aimed at anyone trying to approach. And to use your wording—or perhaps lettering—FYI, they have amassed a formidable arsenal here; that much I have seen.”

  We all sighed as one. I changed the subject. “When will the invasion occur?”

  “Not sure of the time,” said Tag. “But based on the movement within the building, with the level of urgency, with the number of government employees now in the building, I would say shortly.”

  I nodded. “On a hopeful bright note, we were, I think, able to destroy their central operating system. Can you tell if the building’s security, outside of the portal’s, is still operational?”

  “Let me check, Randy,” he replied. There was silence on his end for a half a minute or so. “Deactivated,” he said. “Apart from the weapons inside, this building is now unguarded.” He chuckled. I loved hearing him do so. “How did you manage this?”

  My chuckle joined his. “Long story, Tag. And I’m afraid time is running out as it is.” My chuckle turned to a laugh. “Plus, we ate fruit. I think. Though it might’ve been vegetables.” I paused. I whispered into Sonny’s wrist. “I think it, the food, might be our only hope.”

  To which he whispered back, “Are most humans this crazy, Randy?”

  I nodded. “Probably, Tag. But I’m not most humans; I’m the savior.”

  Yep, Craig’s eyes went arollin’. “Full of yourself much?”

  “He is the savior,” said Justin Timberlake. “Perhaps he was simply meant to save your world instead of ours.”

  Craig, it seemed, was going to say something snarky in reply, then reconsidered. I think it was because Mom lightly slapped his arm before he could. Or maybe it was because Dad lightly slapped his other arm. Either way, snarky flew out the proverbial window. Which was odd because Planet Six didn’t seem to have any windows.