Rock n Roll Babes from Outer Space

by Linda Jaivin

  The door of the sexual experimentation chamber opened. Doll swaggered out. She approached the Voodoo Lounge where Baby was reclining. Doll’s wiry little body was glazed in black latex. She was wearing a rubber catsuit with a partial hood that she’d newly abducted from the House of Fetish. She’d cut four holes in the hood—two for her horns of hair and two for her antennae.

  Lati entered at the same time from another door, lazily yawning and stretching. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt advertising the film Aliens 3. Lati managed to be both the most manic of all of them and the most voluptuously languid. She performed a leisurely double-take at Doll’s outfit. ‘Rrrrrrrrrrr,’ she growled sexily, ‘What’s new, pussycat?’

  Doll tried not to look too pleased with herself. They both looked at Baby. She hadn’t said a word since they’d come in.

  A Fender Stratocaster lay across Baby’s raised knees. She was practising slide lines up and down its long, handsome neck. For some reason the guitar reminded her of Jake. Why hadn’t Jake been at Ebola’s concert last night? He wouldn’t have been with anyone, would he? With their supersharp senses and sharply focussed antennae the babes had easily spotted the twins among the large crowd. But while Baby must have scanned the entertainment centre a hundred times she just couldn’t pick up any sign of Jake. And she’d left her Locate-a-tron at home. Wasn’t that always the way?

  Doll indicated the sexual experimentation chamber with her chin. ‘This one wants to stay, too,’ she announced smugly. ‘She’s a real stunner. You girls happy with that?’

  ‘Whatever,’ Baby replied without much interest, staring into the Betty Boop holograms that patterned her new frock, which was designed to look like a nurse’s uniform. She’d gone for a stroll in it earlier. As she passed through the Darlinghurst cafe belt, the Earthlings had torn off their clothes, knocked their cups and glasses to the ground and draped themselves over the tables singing, ‘Doctor, doctor.’

  Baby had been amused, but she couldn’t help thinking, why isn’t one of them Jake?

  ‘Lati?’ Doll asked. She was keen to return to her new abductee. ‘You happy?’

  ‘Happy as Larry.’

  ‘That happy?’ A smile forced its way through Babe’s melancholy. The girls had never seen anyone quite as happy as Larry. Larry was as happy as a Sirian with a feather duster. Larry was as happy as a little indie band with a big record contract. Larry was as happy as happy could be. Yet, just two days before, Larry had been having a mid-midlife crisis crisis. His midlife crisis, contrary to all his expectations, was not bringing him much joy. In going from bank branch manager to carpenter he’d gained little more than splinters. Then there was the problem of his love handles—since he’d left his wife, no one was handling them at all. On Monday, he’d been sipping a black coffee at Cafe Da Vida and mournfully observing all the streetside Pretty Young Things who were pointedly not observing him back, when suddenly he felt a sensation like a thousand tongues licking the inside of his elbows. Victoria Street faded from his vision. Stars danced before his eyes, which he opened only to find himself, naked, on his knees, with one of Lati’s antennae up his arse, and Baby’s legs locked around his neck. Doll, in a black velvet riding jacket and jodhpurs, was playing with Lati’s breasts with one hand, and her own stomach with the other. The only jarring thing in this otherwise idyllic scene was the sight of Revor sliding back and forth across Baby’s face, but after the initial shock Larry even found that exciting. His dreams had come true, down to the last detail. Larry, as the twins might say, was happy as.

  ‘How’s the spare room situation?’ inquired Baby.

  ‘Reckon we can squeeze heaps more in.’

  ‘Why not, then? The more the messier.’

  ‘Merrier.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  The girls had had a very busy few days. In addition to their massive swoop on Kissed for the Very First Time Records and the musical instrument shops, they’d acquired whole wardrobes of clothing with labels like Mission Earth and Space Time. They’d been to see a band called Venutian Vixens at the Annandale Hotel, wondering if it was anyone they knew. Most excitingly, they began writing songs and playing their own music. Doll had worked out the formula. Three chords, twelve bars, four beats and a tune—how hard could it be?

  Baby wrote the first song: The lyrics went like this:

  Screamin’ outta Hangar 99

  Feelin’ hot, feelin’ fine

  Leavin’ Nufon far behind

  We’re rock n roll babes from outer space

  And we’re gonna disconnect your mind.

  When she finished, Baby put down her guitar and looked up expectantly at the others. ‘It’s not Patti Smith,’ commented Lati candidly. ‘But it’s a start.’

  ‘I wouldn’t overdo the rhyme thing,’ opined Doll.

  Baby slumped down on the Voodoo Lounge in a pout. ‘Everyone’s a critic.’

  ‘I think we can work with it, though,’ mulled Doll, sitting down at her drum kit. Within minutes, they were bashing away at their instruments and ‘Hangar 99’ began to fly. They all began writing songs after that. In their lyrics they sang of their frustrations with the patriarchal planet, of the joy of coaxing chaos out of order, of rocketships fuelled by desire and other yoonal themes.

  Their abductions of Earthlings, meanwhile, continued apace. Their abductees included both male and female, old and young, able-bodied and infirm, beans of all sexual persuasions and bents. And, hoowah, were some bent. They were so bent that they had to sleep in circular stairwells. And that was before the girls got to them. In the great classroom of Earthling sexuality the girls were on a steep learning curve. They’d dispensed with the long introductory getting-to-know-you spiel and tended to whack the beans straight into the chamber. It didn’t seem to make much of a difference to them. The babes didn’t automatically tie them down anymore, either. In fact, some of the Earthlings tied them down. A number of them, like Larry, had begged to stay on. With a few exceptions, Memocide didn’t seem all that necessary.

  Lati yawned again and turned to go. ‘It’s been real, groovers, but I’ve got to go. “Happy as Larry” reminds me—I have to take him over some panties I’ve been wearing for the last two days.’ It hadn’t taken long for the girls to suss out why Earthlings wore underwear. It was so much fun to play with! Especially after a few days.

  Doll took a step closer to Baby and smiled sweetly. Baby found this a disconcerting if not downright frightening sight. Doll? Smile? The girl had fangs. ‘By the way, Baby?’ Doll said. ‘I just want to tell you how much I appreciate your leadership, and how much I love you and care for you. Your friendship means so much to me. I want to give you a big hug.’

  Enduring the hug, Baby squinted at Doll suspiciously. ‘What are you on now, Doll?’

  ‘Oh, just a little pill the last girl gave me. I think she said it’s called an ooky.’ Doll slapped the side of her head. ‘An ekky. Jeez, this language chip is driving me crazy. I think it must have a wire loose. There don’t seem to be any cybernetic workshops listed in the Yellow Pages either. God, they’re primitive here.’

  Complaints, complaints. You’re having a good enough time, though, aren’t you, Doll?

  Yes, God.

  Doll rolled her eyes at Baby.

  I saw that, Doll.

  Yeah, yeah, big boy. Sit on my face.

  I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Doll. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it. But I’d hate to see your face afterwards. It’d be spread from Perth to Pluto. Not a pretty sight I’m sure. So do we have anything more to say about My handiwork? My precious Project Earth?

  No, God. I love you, God, she added.

  Watch it with those pills, Doll. You’re losing your edge.

  Yes, God.

  I’ll be off then. There’s a cute little nun calling to Me from some convent in Belgium. I think I might go present her with a vision. What do you reckon—a vision or voices? Or maybe a miracle?

  An instant later, He was gone. He didn�
�t even wait for her answer.

  Boy does He give me the shits sometimes, Doll thought. Makes a girl really want to get into, oh, I dunno, satanic metal or something.

  Revor tapdanced into the room, plopped down on Baby’s foot and nuzzled her ankle with his elefentine nose before sucking each of her toes in turn. ‘Iggywiggywiggy. Iggywiggywiggy. Nf nf.’

  ‘What’s with him?’ Doll looked alarmed.

  ‘I think he’s lovesick,’ Baby observed. Funny that. She sort of felt the same way herself. Despite all the sex and fun they’d had with other Earthlings since their abduction of Jake, which, though just a few days earlier, already seemed a very long time ago, she felt strangely disconsolate. In the classic Nufonian manner of expressing dejection she spent an inordinate amount of time nuddling sofa cushions and licking the ceiling. A medley of love songs played in her brain.

  Love? That was ridiculous. She was a hardcore rock chick, she reminded herself, not some sentimental Susan. What she felt was, oh, curiosity. Lust. Inter-special pheromones. Whatever. Certainly not love. Probably not love. ‘What do you think, Rev? Time to go back to Newtown?’ Revor rolled onto his back and paddled the air slowly with his feet.

  Jake lay on his back on his mattress, paddling the air with his feet, and staring out the window above the bed at nothing in particular. It was Thursday. Not that time had much meaning for him anymore. No, Jake was over time. Space, on the other hand, now that had heaps of potential.

  Unobserved in the doorway, Torquil watched, bemused, for several minutes. ‘Uh, Earth to Jake, Earth to Jake,’ he said finally. ‘Beaming you down, dude.’

  Jake rolled his head to the side. ‘Torq. My man. Or is that Trist? What’d you do to your hair?’ Torq, who was wearing extremely wide jeans and a very narrow t-shirt with the word ‘Sportsgirl’ across the chest, had unknotted his hair and re-dyed it. It stood up in frightened clumps, as though trying to escape his head in all directions at once.

  ‘Torq. I reckon green’s the colour of the hour. What are you doing anyway?’

  ‘Exercising,’ Jake replied. ‘It’s like riding a pushbike, but better for you. No traffic. No stress.’ He turned his head from side to side, stroking the air with his hands. ‘And you still get to wave at all the cute girls. Except, unlike in real life, they always wave back.’

  ‘You’re a very strange boy,’ commented Torquil appreciatively, as Jake’s foot caught on the piece of Indian fabric that served as a makeshift curtain and the cloth came tumbling down over his face. Jake groaned, his limbs stiffened and he tumbled rigidly onto his side.

  ‘So dead,’ moaned Jake from underneath his shroud of maroon paisley. ‘Remember that line from Tank Girl? I’m so dead.’

  Torquil shook his head. ‘If I didn’t know you better, dude, I’d think you were in love or something.’

  Jake wrestled off the cotton and propped himself up on an elbow. ‘Hey Torq.’

  ‘Hey Jake.’

  ‘Do you think they’re really aliens?’

  ‘Well, Lati’s outta this world.’

  ‘Seriously.’

  ‘Seriously, I think we’ve got to stop taking so many drugs,’ said Torquil. ‘We didn’t even remember to get their phone numbers before they disappeared on Sunday night.’

  Jake sighed, flopped onto his back, and returned his stare to the ceiling. ‘Nice day,’ he commented mournfully.

  ‘Exactly,’ concurred Torquil. ‘Spring has sprung and Trist and I are going swimbos. You coming or what?’

  ‘Dunno. I’ve just had my exercise.’

  Torquil scanned the clothes mountain. ‘Jake. You are lazy as.’ Hoicking up a pair of swimmers with a toe, he kicked them over to where Jake lay. They landed on his face. ‘Get yer gear on. Ready for blast-off in ten.’

  Jake peeled the bathers off his nose and rolled towards the wall. ‘You guys go without me. No, don’t. Go with me. No, go without. With. Without. Oh, I don’t care.’ He rolled back and hauled himself up on his elbows. ‘Which beach you going to?’

  ‘Just Bondi.’

  ‘All right, all right. I’ll go. Just this once. But don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya.’

  ‘Uranium.’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Titanium.’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Samarium.’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Praseodymium.’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Californium.’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Valium.’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Kryptonite.’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Coke n Sprite.’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Iron supplements.’

  ‘Check.’

  Qwerk frowned and ran his eyes over the list one last time. That should do it for the food supply. ‘All the beings can take their own nuts, bolts, and other snack foods.’

  It was only a matter of days now before they’d be ready for blast off.

  On Friday, George arrived home to find the babes troughing down in the yard. ‘Watch the skies,’ he saluted.

  The girls squinted up into the sun. ‘For what, George?’ asked Lati.

  ‘Just a joke,’ George apologised. ‘There was this movie, The Thing? It was about an alien carrot monster that fed on human blood. That was the last line of the film.’

  ‘Oh,’ exclaimed Doll, ‘They’re revolting. We’ve never had much to do with them, really.’

  ‘Sorry? Didn’t have much to do with what?’

  ‘Alien carrot monsters.’

  George took this on board. ‘You wouldn’t, though, would you?’ he remarked, shaking his head.

  ‘Mind if I do?’ Baby had picked up a battered mould in the shape of a trout and raised it to her lips.

  ‘Help yourself,’ nodded George, lugging over a portable computer and depositing it at her feet. He grinned. ‘Here. Why not make it fish and chips?’

  Doll picked up a tool with a sharply angled arm and flying saucer-like top. She flicked the switch just under the bend in the handle. It whirred into action for a moment and then died. She hit it again, but whatever life it once had was gone now. Turning it over, she read the words Breville Multi-Reach embossed on the side. She took a small bite off the top. ‘Weenie beenie!’ she cried. ‘Oh yum!’

  The others looked at her. ‘What’s that, Doll?’ Baby asked.

  ‘Dunno,’ Doll answered, turning the tool over in her hands. ‘But it’s got the most fabulous garnish.’

  Lati looked up from where she sat nibbling on a clock radio. ‘What’s wrong, George?’ George was blushing so badly that his scalp glowed and his ears had turned quite red.

  ‘Nothing,’ he mumbled, bending over and ostriching among the gadgets. The vibrator had been his late wife’s, God rest her soul. He wasn’t sure how it had ended up in the yard.

  Baby inserted a finger in her mouth and pulled out a keyboard space bar that had wedged between her back teeth. She was too wrought up to eat much. ‘You two ready?’ she asked, trying to mask her excitement at the thought of seeing Jake again.

  Lati could see how anxious Baby was. She felt like winding her up a bit. ‘What’s the hurry?’ she taunted. ‘I want to to finish this first.’ She held up a mobile phone and began, very slowly and deliberately, to suck the keys into her mouth one by one. Then she extended the phone’s antenna and pushed it back in again, extended it and pushed it back in again.

  Baby was starting to grind her teeth. ‘Must you?’

  ‘Just tenderising,’ Lati retorted.

  ‘Cut the crap, Lati.’ Doll was longing to see Saturna and Skye. She snatched the remains of the phone from Lati and popped it in her own mouth. ‘There,’ she crunched. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Thanks for the feed, George,’ said Baby.

  ‘Anytime,’ nodded George. He really wanted to talk to them sometime about the end of the world. What they knew about it. He was sure it was getting very close. In that morning’s newspapers, the government had declared
that it was removing all Aboriginals from the land as a final solution to the Native Title problem. It was going to eliminate youth unemployment, meanwhile, through a program of forced labour on public works, primarily the building of casinos. Overseas, an entire nation that had once been part of the Soviet Union had managed to blow itself up with nuclear devices before anyone had even learned to spell its name. And astronomers were plotting the course of the mega-asteroid 433 Eros, which was beginning to look unstable in its orbit. A spokesman from the London Observatory assured the public that Eros presented no immediate danger, but they were keeping an eye on it.

  Knock knock.

  ‘Wanna suck my cock?’ Doll yelled through the door. No answer. ‘Why are our favourite Earthlings not in their nest?’ she grumbled. Revor leapt out of Baby’s carry bag and sniffed at the crack under the door.

  Iggy, on the other side, wagged his tail deliriously. He cursed under his breath. Why didn’t the humans ever leave him a key? They were all out. Saturna and Skye were at their shop, Tristram was at his part-time job in a King Street newsagent and Jake and Torq were at the CES, earnestly explaining to their case managers how difficult it had been, once again, to find any work. The door was deadlocked. Oh God, oh God, please, somehow, let me open that door.

  Oh, all right. Just this once. But don’t make it a habit.

  A shiver crept down Iggy’s spine. His fur, such as it was, stood on end and his ears pricked nervously. He sniffed at the air. Who the hell was talking to him?

  It’s God, dog-face. Remember? You called Me?

  God?!

  Who’d you think it was, the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence?

  Iggy’s knees went weak and he sank to the ground.

  I promise I’ll go to church from now on, and…

  Cut the crap. I’m just doing this as a favour to the babes.

  The bolt sucked in and the door swung open. Revor bounded up to Iggy, jumped on his face, and humped his nose in greeting. Gnyah! Gnyah! Gnyah! As the girls watched in amusement, Iggy’s big pink tongue extended out of his mouth and disappeared up Revor’s arse.

  Doll shook her head. ‘How beastly,’ she tittered.