by Ralph Church
Mork examined the couch doubtfully, while Mindy went to the closet. “Ah,” Mork said when she opened its door. “Well, Mindy,” he said, sounding like FM radio, “it’s not going to be so hard to fit right in here.”
Mork had reached the closet and he said, “Good morning,” while turning upside down, hooking his feet on the closet bar, and hanging.
“You sleep like that?” Mindy cried out hopelessly.
“Well, usually I prefer a walk-in with a window, but this will do.”
And with that, Mork settled in for a good night’s sleep on Earth.
***
5
Mindy McConnell’s mother had died when Mindy was ten. Her father, Frederick, had asked Mindy’s grandmother to move in with him and help raise Mindy. Frederick’s friends were always amazed by that. Being willing to live with his mother-in-law for Mindy’s sake proved how much he loved his daughter. Frederick had been disappointed in his career; he dreamed of being a symphony conductor, but, in fact, he owned a music store.
He had run the store for ten years, always trying to resist giving in to popular music. Cora, his mother-in-law, had to yell at him so that he would stock rock ‘n’ roll records. She began to learn about the music of the young to help improve their business, and soon she began to play it for her own enjoyment. By now, she was the most fanatical teeny-bopper on the block. Though that was good for business, it bothered Frederick to no end. He hated the new music as much as he adored his classical records, his beautiful pianos, violins, oboes, and all the other things that, as Cora put it, “no one would buy.” Frederick was made so bitter by the buying habits of the young that he distrusted everything about them. Long hair, casual clothing, slang, and, especially, living together without getting married: all were part of the same thing to him—bad taste in music.
But he had to put up with Cora and her policy in the store. Because it was the electronic guitars, amplifiers, and Moog synthesizers, along with the modern music, that made the store profitable business. Even with those things, the store had many problems, most of them caused by its plumbing and a man named Arnold Wanker. Mr. Wanker was their landlord and he wanted to force Frederick to move out because Mr. Wanker could then double the rent. But Mindy’s father had a lease that entitled him to remain for three more years, and so Mr. Wanker would let the heat go off, or keep it low, or he would have construction work going on outside so that people wouldn’t want to go in the store. No, life was not easy for Frederick, but still he loved his daughter and even Cora in many ways, and he was surrounded all day by the instruments and records he loved.
Cora liked to tease Frederick about the new music and this morning had begun with her statement that Alice Cooper’s music had more feeling than Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. When Mindy came into the store, the argument had gotten noisy. “Alice Cooper!” Frederick yelled. “Alice Cooper just beats the keys with a dead snake!”
“At least he plays with feeling,” Cora said.
Mindy groaned, “Are you two going to start this again?”
“I,” Frederick said, standing proudly in the middle of the store, pointing to himself, “am a musician. I sell violins, cellos—”
“You mean, you don’t sell them,” Cora mumbled.
“That is food for the spirit, a feast for the soul. While you peddle junk food.”
“Frederick,” Cora said, pushing her face, smooth and rosy despite her years, at him, “if you were in heaven and God said to you, I will give you a wish; you can be born with brains, or you can be born with a permanent rash on your fanny,’ which would you choose, dear?”
This question stopped Frederick from raving. He tried to figure out what the trap was. “The brains,” he said slowly.
“Good,” Cora snapped. “I see you’ve learned by your mistake.” And with that she exited triumphantly to the back room.
Fred looked unhappily at Mindy. “If it weren’t for the memory of your mother—Ah, she’s a foolish woman. Imagine such talk at her age.”
“Dad, you know she loves you. These arguments keep her young.”
Fred had paid no attention. He had been staring at Mindy’s face. “You look like you haven’t slept very much.”
Mindy turned away. “Now, Daddy, that’s not a good way to build up a girl’s ego. I turn twenty-one and already you start telling me I look old.”
“Not old. Sleepy.” Fred continued to peer in her direction, even though Mindy kept her back to him. “Didn’t you go out with that young man last night?”
“All right,” Mindy said, turning back toward her father. “I didn’t get much sleep. I was up half the night talking to the most fascinating person.”
“Bill? The most fascinating person?” Fred began to tap his fingers nervously against one of the pianos.
“Not Bill. Someone else.”
“You were up half the night with a strange man?”
Mindy sighed hopelessly. Was there any way to stop his suspicions? “Daddy, I said talking.” She looked angry.
Fred immediately felt foolish and smiled. “I’m sorry. I do trust you.” Now he looked slyly at her. “I’m still upset about your running away from home.”
“I didn’t run away from home, Dad. I’m twenty-one.”
Fred laughed and hugged her. “I’m teasing you. I’ll always think of you as a little girl. You have to forgive me for that.”
“I do,” Mindy said quietly.
“So who was this fascinating man?” Fred asked, trying to sound casual.
‘Well,” Mindy said, “I want you to meet him. Now, he’s a little unusual. He’s not familiar with some of our customs—”
“Oh, God!” Fred exclaimed. “What is he? An Arab?”
“It’s hard to explain, Dad. He’s outside. Let me get him.”
Mindy had decided that she couldn’t leave Mork alone all day. So she thought, after a very difficult session of preparing Mork, that she would see what her father would make of him. At the worst, she could confide in Fred and be sure that the secret was safe. She had left Mork just around the comer, and she told him not to move. The moment she got back she realized her mistake. Three people had gathered around Mork and were staring at him because Mork had stood completely still while Mindy was away.
Mork couldn’t understand why Mindy wanted him to stand that way, especially when other humans began to bump into him, yell strange words, and then stare. Some had even begun to laugh, but that meant he was doing something pleasurable, so Mork didn’t worry about those people—he just worried about the ones who yelled. After a while, Mork noticed that there was another human, in the park across the way from him, who was also standing very still. But no one looked or yelled or laughed at him, though the birds seemed to enjoy sitting on his head.
Just before Mindy arrived, one of the people who watched him began to poke Mork in the chest. At first, he did so lightly and jumped back, as if Mork had an electric charge. “He’s as hard as a rock,” the man said.
“He’s better at this than the Queen’s guards,” another person said. “I swear he hasn’t blinked once.”
At this moment, Mindy arrived, terrified to discover that her careful plan had already gone amiss. “Ha! Ha!” she said loudly. “What a kidder,” Mindy said to the onlookers.
“Ah, Mindy,” Mork said in his announcer’s voice, “I don’t like this ritual and I don’t understand the point of it.”
“Ha! Ha!” Mindy said, taking Mork’s arm and quickly leading him away.
Mork went with her, saying, “I know that other fellow didn’t seem to mind, but I don’t like to have birds walk on my head.”
Mindy didn’t even want to know what Mork was talking about. She hurried him toward the store, whispering, “Mork, I didn’t mean you had to stand completely still. I just meant that you shouldn’t go anywhere.”
“I’m afraid your earthling language is too confusing,” Mork answered while they entered the music store.
Fred wasn’t pleased at the s
ight of Mork in his casual clothes, which were overalls and a bright yellow T-shirt.
“Uh, Dad,” Mindy said, “this is Mork. Mork, Mr. McConnell.”
“Hello!” Mork’s voice boomed. “How are you today?”
Fred shook his head, surprised by the resonance of Mork’s voice.
Mork, thinking this was a part of the greeting ritual that Mindy had forgotten to tell him about, also shook his head, but harder.
“Who is this?” Fred said to Mindy. “Some hippie friend?”
“Dad, that’s not very polite.”
Fred looked at Mork’s hand and shook it reluctantly. “Hello,” he said.
“Hello!” Mork boomed.
Fred looked uncertain and said quietly, “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you!” Mork sounded like a stereo turned all the way up. Mindy thought she could hear the walls vibrate.
“Could you speak a little lower?” Fred said.
Oh, no, Mindy thought. Sure enough, Mork bent his knees and dropped down a few inches. “Nice to meet you,” he said melodically.
“I don’t think this is very funny, Mindy,” Fred said, his face reddening. “If this punk—”
Mindy pulled Mork away toward the door. “I’ll be right back, Dad. I just want to show Mork how to get home.”
“Where are you going?” Fred yelled, but Mindy and Mork were out the door, scurrying down the street.
“Is this the usual pace?” Mork asked while they ran around the corner again.
“Oh, God,” Mindy said, leaning against the wall when she stopped. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about you.”
“Who is this God?” Mork asked.
“Oh, Mork, I can’t explain about God now.”
“I’m just surprised that there are invisible earthlings.”
Mindy looked blank.
“You keep talking to him, but I don’t see him,” Mork explained.
It was then that Mindy realized that if Mork took everything she said literally, she could send him back to her apartment without a worry. “Now, listen carefully, Mork,” she said.
Mork took his right index finger, cradled it in his left hand, and placed it near Mindy’s mouth, though, of course, not pointing at her.
“Walk to my home the same way we walked here. Take these keys and put them in the lock and open the door and go inside and close the door behind you. Then wait until I get home, okay?”
“Yes,” Mork said seriously.
“Oh,” Mindy realized, “and before you close the door behind you, take the keys out.”
Mork agreed and went off, unperturbed by all these adventures, since they were no stranger to him than normal events would have been. He thought Earth was an odd place. Most of the time, what humans said wasn’t what they meant. But Mork put that down to the fact that as a primitive people, they had no illegal words. Illegal words were the key to Orkian social progress. Mork decided that until that development occurred, things were probably as uncertain on Ork as they are on Earth.
***
6
Mork had no trouble walking home backward, making the same hand gestures he had earlier. As an Orkan, he could use his finger as a guide. Human beings certainly enjoy observing, he thought to himself as he noticed the stares and open-mouthed expressions on people’s faces wherever he went.
Once he had followed Mindy’s instructions on how to regain entry to her apartment, Mork decided to occupy the waiting time with a memory recall. On Ork these were referred to as Efruds—a trance where you relive a past experience. First he hung himself by the legs from the closet bar and then put his index finger on his nose. The room hummed. And slowly Mork’s face turned pink. This was called: Remembering Through a Pink-Colored Face.
Twenty years ago (or blems, as an Orkan would say when speaking of Earth time) a young man named Arthur Fonzerelli was sitting in an Earth home of a family named Cunningham. He had just answered the phone. “Yo,” he said, a hand stroking his greased, back-combed hair on his temples, “Cunningham residence.” He frowned. “No, Richie is not here. He and the family are takin’ a week’s vacation.” The Fonz, as he is known to most Earthlings, made his voice husky. “You sound cute. What’s your name? Mary? This,” he said, puffing his chest out, “is Arthur Fonzerelli, house-sitter.”
The Fonz banged the telephone down on the table quickly and brought it back to his ear. “What!? You never heard of me? Are you new in town?” he said in a sly voice. “Or are you just recently back from lunch? Yeah, I’ll tell him you called,” he answered without enthusiasm. He brushed his hair back as he hung up the phone, looking bored. “That Richie hangs around with real losers.”
The Fonz, let it be said, was a reasonable man, and he began to write down the message on a pad put next to the phone for that purpose. But a whirring sound, coming from the window behind him, brought him to a halt. A giant egg, shining white, had lowered to the ground. By the time the Fonz had turned to face the window, the whirring noise had stopped. “All right,” he said, leaning back on his heels, “Who’s going wheee, wheee, wheee?” The Fonz walked to the door. “Ralph,” he said loudly, “if that’s you doing a bad joke, you’ll find out I don’t like wheee, wheee, wheee.” The Fonz quickly opened the door, and standing there was Mork, dressed in his red spacesuit, with a silver square on his chest, and his head covered by a helmet that blacked out his face. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” the Fonz yelled in a panic, backing away from the door.
“Greetings, Fonzie,” said Mork in his high, speedy voice. “Remember me? Mork from Ork—or, as you once called me, the ‘nut from outer-space-amondo.’” Mork took off his space helmet.
The Fonz, confused, but remembering vaguely, said, “Uh, yeah, I had a bad dream last night. That’s it,” he said, confident once again, “I’m dreaming again. No wonder that chick Mary never heard of me. This is a nightmare.”
“Sorry. This is a true beypez. I thribilled your mind to make you forget. I didn’t wish to strain your brain.”
“Hey!” The Fonz turned sideways. “Very thoughtful. I think I want to wake up now.” Fonzie slapped himself across the cheeks twice.
Mork lowered his eyebrows. “Do you often slap yourself?” Mork looked at his own hand questioningly and then slapped himself twice. “I do not find that pleasurable,” he decided.
The Fonz was worried. “I think I am awake.”
Mork put out his palm reassuringly. “Do not be afraid. I will not harm you. That would be ninOrkian behavior.”
“Afraid?” The Fonz put his hand on his chest and then strutted back toward the door. “Me? Afraid? Hey!” He put his hands out.
“Good. I want to be friends.”
The Fonz, pretending to be bored as he put his hand on the door, said, “On the other hand, as much as I’d like to invite you in for a small talk, I’m really busy.” He looked harassed. “I gotta write a note to Richie from Mary. Uh, I gotta wipe the bugs off my headlights.” He began to close the door. “Important stuff.”
The door was halfway closed when Mork pointed his bloink and made a short hum. The Fonz tried to keep closing the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “But this is important, too,” Mark said. “Last time I was here, I observed an Earth ritual that I cannot comprehend. It’s been driving me ka-bloink.”
The Fonz, still trying to push the frozen door shut, glanced nervously at Mork. “Hey, listen. Don’t get tense, you know what I’m saying? We’ll talk about it. Uh, what’s this ritual that drives you, you know, that bothers you?”
“Men dating women,” Mork answered.
The Fonz backed away and smiled. This was his kind of talk. “I think you came to the right guy.” He lifted his chin proudly. “What do you want to know?”
Mark pointed his finger at the door and then bent it back at the joint. There was another hum, and Fonz, who had been leaning against it, nearly fell down as the door began to close. Mork walked in and Fonz closed the door, puzzled. “Hey, thanks,” he said doubtfully.
/> “Why,” Mork said, “does a man date a woman?”
The Fonz shook his head. “This is basic stuff. I mean, men don’t go out with women on your planet?”
Mark thought about this. Assuming he understood what this Earthling meant by men and women, he decided, “Could be. It’s hard to tell. Parts are interchangeable.”
The Fonz walked to the couch and sat down. “I don’t know how you guys ever got so far advanced. You have no incentive!”
Mork walked to the couch and sat on his face.
The Fonz was appalled. “Hey! Hey! I got problems talking to someone who sits like that.
“Sorry,” Mork said, standing up and looking at Fonzie. “I will, sit Fonz-like.” And Mork sat down the human way, but so close to Fonz that their shoulders were pressed together.
“Don’t touch me,” Fonzie said ominously. Mork moved obediently to the other side of the couch. “Now, let me approach this scientifically. First thing to know: Have you ever kissed a girl?”
Mork turned his head to the left and then to the right, an amusing Orkian gesture of amazement. Mork had forgotten that Fonz wouldn’t understand this last remaining legal bit of Orkian humor. “Kiss? I do not know what that word means, but the word has a nice ring. Kiss, kiss, kiss,” Mork said, pursing his lips. When he did that, there was a slight bell sound.
Fonzie stared at him. “Oh, boy. This is truly a task only the Fonz can handle. A kiss, my friend, is when a guy and a girl put their lips together and then sort of grind them around, and around, and around.”
“Ground lips?” Mork looked sad. “It sounds unappealing.”
“Hey!” The Fonz was irritated. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“Pah-poo,” Mork said, standing up and heading for the door.
‘”Where ya going?” Fonz yelled after him.
Mork stopped and looked surprised. “Out to grind a girl’s lips.”
“No, no, no,” Fonzie said. He rushed to the door and began leading Mork back. “The girl has to be willing. Hey,” Fonzie said, looking at Mork’s arm, “your arm sure is going through a lot of changes. Anyway, you don’t just grab a girl and grind her lips—I mean, kiss her. She has to”—Fonz moved his hands and his body slowly—“know you. You understand?”