The Quokka Menace
Page 6
'I assure you, we mean you no harm,' Nigel said. 'We are the innocent victims of a terrible war that has been raging in the galaxy for decades. Some of us got tired of the bloodshed and decided to come to your lovely planet.'
'It is lovely, but not so good for us anymore,' Big Spaz said. 'Now whether you is a robot or an alien, or just some fucker that is taking the piss, your arrival has disrupted our commercial activities. That is not something that we can tolerate long term.'
'Hang on a sec,' Metho said, as a look of realisation crossed his face. 'Are you lot asylum seekers?'
'Yes, after a fashion I suppose,' Nigel said. 'We came here to escape persecution and war on our home planets.'
'Great, just great. More fucking illegal immigrants. Just what we need right now, with all the jobs gone and the houses already costing too much, we really need more people who want a job an' a place to live,' Metho said. 'You lot are bad news! You're gunna fuck up our economy and tear apart the social fabric. You bastards.'
'Hang on Metho, I think that's only the ones what come here on boats,' Skip said.
'Is it? Well how the did you and yours get here, then, if you don't mind me asking?'
'We came via intergalactic shuttles. I think you would refer to them as spaceships,' Nigel said.
'Ah ha! So you did come by boat! No wonder the whole fucking place has gone to shit,' Metho said.
Small Spaz had been watching the entire exchange with a look of horror on his face. 'I can't believe this,' he blurted out when he could contain himself no longer. 'How can you doubt the evidence of your eyes? Not only is Nigel a talking marsupial, but you've agreed to a sit down with him to sort out some business. And you,' he said, turning from Big Spaz to Metho. 'You have just met a representative of an alien race—a being that has travelled millions of miles to get here—and your first reaction is to yell at him for being an illegal immigrant?'
'Well, yeah, cos he is one. And he come by boat. Or ship, which is the same thing in my book.'
'Well it must be a small book that's written in crayon then, because a spaceship is a vehicle that flies through space, not travels over the surface of a body of water. The name kinda gives it away. How many boats do you know that can fly?'
'I think he's right, mate,' Skip said. 'It's like one of them UFO thingies.'
'Very much like that,' Nigel said. 'Most reported UFO's are Quokkas who weren't being careful enough.' He preened his whiskers and brushed his ears forward, which is a sure sign that a Quokka is getting annoyed. The Crew thought it made him look cute.
'That is why we have arranged this meeting,' Snake said, addressing Big Spaz. 'When my client came and told me that he had been kidnapped in Rosetown, I instantly thought of you and realised it must be because your business is suffering. Together, we came up with a plan that we believe will benefit both parties.'
'I'm listening,' Big Spaz said.
'As I mentioned earlier, the Quokkas have advanced technologies that look like magic to us,' Snake said, in an excited voice, 'and those technologies are not limited to computerised hardware and transportations systems. The Quokkas are also far ahead of human science in the field of medicine, and the manufacture of all manner of pharmaceutical products. These medicines usually only work on Quokkas but there is one that has an outstanding effect on human anatomy. The Quokkas call it "flabby" but that's just a colloquialism because they use it as a weight gain drug for after they've been ill. What this drug does to humans is quite amazing. It provides an outstanding sensory experience, increases a user's cognitive abilities, while at the same time healing damage caused by the long-term use of human drugs such as alcohol and methamphetamine.'
'And how does this wonder drug help me and my employees?' Big Spaz said. 'If this isn't all bullshit, which I still reckon it is, as far as I can tell, you have just told me of a product that could spell the end of our business forever.'
'The Quokkas would like to offer you a distribution deal. They will supply the drug, and you and your network will distribute it,' Snake said. 'You see, their enemies are still looking for them and have spies here on Earth. They need to be able to stay low key but their money reserves are beginning to dwindle.'
'Well maybe they should stop buying houses in Rosetown then,' Metho snapped. 'You're the fucking reason we can't sell nothing cos you is scaring away all the real customers.'
'They will also agree to stop buying Rosetown properties and move their property acquisition program to Sunni,' Snake added. 'Any empty properties they already own or are constructing in Rosetown will be rented out to humans, which will replenish your customer base.'
The Crew all turned to Big Spaz, who looked like he was on the verge of exploding. 'I don't know how the fuck you made that rat talk, but this joke has gone on for long enough,' he said, and pulled a gun from inside his jacket, which he pointed at Nigel. 'Tell me what's happening or the fucking rat gets it.'
Nigel sighed. 'Really, Mr Spazefski, you are very disappointing,' he said. A stream of tiny robots flew out from his vest and snatched the gun from Big Spaz's hands. There was a blur of activity and the robots had returned to their home before the small metallic bust of Big Spaz—which had once been a gun—had hit the table.
'We could very easily just wipe you all out but that might attract attention and would do nothing to solve our revenue problem,' Nigel said. 'George tells us you are a shrewd business man so I would advise you to grab this opportunity with both hands. If you don't, then you and every one of your compatriots will vanish from the face of the Earth. Quite literally.'
Big Spaz picked up the metallic bust. It was a remarkable likeness. 'We split the take 50-50?'
'Of course,' Snake said in what he hoped was a confident voice. The display of Quokka violence had shaken him. They were so cute, it was difficult imaging them doing bad things. 'My clients would like to build a relationship that will stand the test of time. And you have guaranteed exclusivity. There isn't a science lab in the world that can manufacture flabby.'
'It seems that we have a relationship, then,' Big Spaz said. 'Let's celebrate with a drink. Skip, go see if Tasos has any sparkling wine in that fridge over there.'
Skip jumped to his feet, scurried over to the fridge and threw open the door. The stench of rotten food filled the room. 'Cor, what a stench,' he said. 'If it ain't working, why leave the food in it?'
'What's he got in there? A carcass?' Small Spaz said.
There was a small thump and all eyes turned to see that Nigel had collapsed off his chair. A moment later, he vanished.
The eyes then turned to Snake, who looked shifty. This wasn't by design or because he was planning something underhanded. Snake was born looking shifty.
'Where did he go?' Big Spaz said, but there was no menace in his voice. He had put his gun back into its holster even though it was now a metallic replica of his head. It was a very real reminder that he needed to treat these people with respect, even if they were cute marsupials.
'They're vegetarians,' Snake said. 'The sight of blood or the smell of meat makes them ill, and rotting meat is even worse. The harness they wear automatically teleports them back to their medical rooms if they ever lose consciousness, so I would guess the stench from the fridge overcame him and his harness took him home.'
'Fuck that's awesome,' Skip said. 'If you had one of them vests, you could drink till you've passed out anywhere you liked, and you'd wake up at home.'
Big Spaz sighed. 'So, do we get a sample of this flabby stuff so we can try it for ourselves?'
Snake opened his briefcase and handed over a decent sized satchel of pills. 'We'll leave the street price to you since you know more about this sort of thing than we do. Give me a call when you need another batch.'
(vi)
The atmosphere in Socrates'n'Friends was thick with smoke and noise. Unlike the rest of the civilised world who had accepted the science, Tasos did not consider smoking tobacco a health risk and allowed their customers to smoke freely.
<
br /> The Greater Crew were arranged around a table in the same place where they had met Nigel that morning, but it was infinitely more interesting now. The room was crowded with people indulging in games of chance while they laughed and smiled and nervously smoked cigarettes. There was noise and music, and waiters ferrying complimentary drinks to all the patrons. Skip, who was never one to let a freebie pass by, was well soaked and sat slouched in his chair with an idiot grin on his face. Here and there, knots of men stood quietly, being conspicuously inconspicuous and looking menacing.
'It sounds a bit, you know, weird,' Tubsy said, looking suspiciously at the package in the middle of the table. 'So these are alien drugs? From outa space?'
'Yeah,' Metho said. 'The aspirationals brought 'em. They is fleeing war and destruction on their planet and they've come here to make a new home for themselves.'
'And they is Quokkas?' Dago said, and he could not have looked more sceptical had he painted "THIS IS ALL BULLSHIT" on his forehead in glitter. 'So wot you is saying is that refugee Quokkas from outa space gave you this packet of drugs?'
'Who fucking cares where it comes from?' Metho said. 'I regret telling yous now.' He looked to Skip and Tits for support and they both murmured and nodded, but would commit no further.
Metho sighed. 'Listen, right, this is what we gotta sell, okay? Nothing else is selling like it used to. It's fucking flabby or it's a real job, right, with a real boss and gettin' paid an' that. Your choice.'
'It's not like we know where all the other shit comes from,' Tubsy said, suddenly sounding more agreeable. 'Has you had any?'
'Nah, not yet,' Metho said, and ripped open the package. He withdrew a single pill, looked at it for a moment, put it in his mouth and threw it back with a shot of Tasos' home made tsipouro. A moment later, he smiled. 'It's quite good, actually. Infinitely better than the bitter swill that Tasos sells.'
Dago reached across and took a pill from the packet. 'What the fuck,' he said. 'I met some of the cooks that makes what we sell. Alien Quokkas couldn't be worse.' He swallowed a pill, along with a mouthful of beer.
One by one, the Greater crew reached out and took a pill. Half an hour later, and by general consensus, they went to see a movie.
Chapter 4
Several months had passed since the Crew had encountered the Quokkas and, from a certain perspective, things were going quite well. Metho and Skip were sitting in one of the Quokka bars, enjoying a drink and planning their respective futures.
'I don't know, it's quite a commitment. And at my age? Is it really worth it?' Skip said, as he reconstructed his deconstructed coffee.
'What value do you put on knowledge?' Metho said, and took a sip of his coconut latte. 'If philosophy is your passion, then I say go for it and practicality be damned.'
At this point, it should be noted that they had been taking flabby on a daily basis since they'd met Nigel many months ago, and the drug had had an impact on their personalities.
'What about you? Have you made up your mind yet?'
'Yes and no,' Metho said, and smiled. 'I want to do it all. Just the thought of diving into a new realm of knowledge makes my extremities tingle.'
It was then that a huge bag of rotting meat sailed through the open door and splatted against a wall. Around Metho and Skip, all the other diners gagged, passed out, and vanished.
'What the heck,' Metho said, as two masked figures—one huge and hulking and the other slim and quick—darted into the cafe. He got up off his chair to defend himself, but hesitated. The thought of committing violence against another human being repulsed him so much that he stood paralysed as the hulking figure pressed a stinking cloth over his mouth and nose.
When Metho awoke, he found himself tied to a chair in Vera's loungeroom. On a chair beside him was tied an unconscious Skip.
'Hey, I think Metho's come around,' said a familiar voice behind him.
'Gordon, my boy, how are you feeling,' said his mum as she came into view. 'I've been so worried about you. Those drugs have made you into a monster.'
'Vera! Why am I tied to a chair? It's criminal to deprive someone of their liberties in this way,' Metho said, and scowled his most fearsome scowl.
It must have been effective because his mother started to sob and collapsed onto the floor. The huge figure from the cafe walked into view and helped her up.
'Don't worry, Vera, we'll have him back to normal in no time,' said the familiar voice.
'Peter, is that you?' Metho said. 'I've warned you before about your steroid use but from the look of you, your body may be beyond repair.'
'My name is Tits, you drug-fucked freak,' the hulking figure said, and truly it was him. 'Nobody calls me Peter. Even my Yaya calls me Tits.'
'Steady on, there, Peter. I find the name you prefer to be borderline misogynistic.'
Vera started to sob again and collapsed back onto the floor.
'Vera? Are you okay?' Skip said in a muzzy voice. He had just come to and was a bit shaky with the nature of reality. Having found himself tied to a chair with his besties' mum sobbing on the floor, he figured things were not going well. 'What the dang heck is going on? Someone untie me now or there will be trouble. Mark my words, there will be trouble.'
'It's a shame they woke up just before the antidotes were ready,' said a feminine voice, and the slim figure from the cafe walked into Skip's field of vision. It was TS, but she didn't look quite like what he remembered. There was something about her eyes and the set of her shoulders that were not like the Tiny who'd kicked him in the nethers so many months ago.
'We'll have you back to your old selves before you know it,' she said and unceremoniously stuck a needle into Skip's arm. He screamed and passed out.
'Your turn,' she said, and stuck another needle into Metho's arm. He screamed a little, whimpered a bit, then passed out as well.
(ii)
'What the fuck,' Metho said and brought his hands up to rub his aching skull. Or at least he tried to. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was his mum, standing in front of him with an anxious look on her face. There are worse things to see when you first open your eyes after a period of unconsciousness, such as the bonds that securely tied Metho's hands and feet to his chair. 'Mum, why the fuck am I tied down?'
He looked up and saw tears streaming down his mother's face, but she was smiling. She hadn't heard her son swear for months.
'Just a precaution,' a familiar voice said and a huge man came to stand by his mum.
'Tits?' Metho said, then six months of memories hit him in the back of the head. 'OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I BECOME? NOOOOOOO!'
Metho's scream woke Skip. 'AHHHHHH! NOOO! NO! NO! NO! AHHHHHH,' he said, quite loudly.
When the two men had screamed themselves out, TS stepped forward and cut their bonds. 'Sorry we had to tie you up, but we didn't know how you'd react when we brought you back,' she said. 'The self-revulsion may have pushed you over the edge.'
'I, I, drank coconut flavoured coffee,' Metho said, and put his head in his hands. 'It tasted like a coconut tree had taken a dump in a cup of coffee,' he mumbled.
'Why have I got a beard?' Skip said, feeling at his face. 'Why?'
'How much do you remember of the past six months?' Tits asked.
'Every fucken moment,' Metho said, and lifted his head out of his hands. 'I think we go find Nigel and fry his furry little arse.' His eyes focussed on Tits. 'What the fuck happened to you? You look like you swallowed a truck full of steroids.'
'It was the flabby,' Tits said, 'we think it may have reacted with the testosterone I was taking.'
'What's with the purple suit?' Skip asked. 'You look like that guy from the cartoon. What's it called? The Inedibles or somethings like that.'
Tits smiled. 'We've had a bit of a metamorphosis,' he said and put on a purple balaclava. 'Meet Multicultural Man and The Nihilist.'
TS put on a black balaclava, which was her only concession to a costume, and took a bow.
&
nbsp; 'Oh shit,' Metho groaned and clutched at his head again. 'I don't know what's worse, your superhero names or the fact that I know what a nihilist is and what metamorphosis means. I've read far too many books in the past six months.'
'That's what got me worried most, luv,' Vera said. 'Every time I saw you, you had your head in one of those horrible ebook things. It was unnatural.'
'It's just so we don't get recognised,' TS said. 'The last thing we wanted was for the Quokkas to come for us after we rescued you.'
'Where's Small Spaz?' Skip asked. 'I wanna borrow his beard trimmer.'
'He's vanished,' TS said.
'What?' Metho and Skip said simultaneously.
'We think the Quokkas have him.'
'Why would the Quokkas have him?' Metho said. 'What the fuck are they gunna do with him? It's not like they're gunna eat him or anything. The furry shits faint at the sight of a steak.'
'I think I know what they're gunna do with him, and it's gunna freak you out,' Tits said. 'To start with, the Quokkas aren't refugees like they said.'
'Well, go on then,' Metho said, 'tell us your tale.'
Tits moved a couple of stuffed bullfrogs aside and sat down on the couch. 'It all started when I went to visit Nigel yesterday,' he began, and then launched into an amazing tale that was more science fiction than Star Wars and Star Trek combined...
Flabby had given Tits the sort of body that a decade of drug-aided gym work had been unable to. He was huge. He was lean. He was mean. Muscles rippled beneath fat-shredded skin. He was so happy that he'd anointed himself Nigel's best human buddy and sought the auctioneer out on a regular basis. It was on one of those visits to Nigel, at the cafe that had sprung up in the ashes of the Belgradia, that he found the auctioneer in the company of two other Quokkas in human shape. It looked like they were arguing but Tits couldn't be sure because they were speaking Quokka.
Not wanting to barge in on a family feud, Tits waited outside but got close enough for the Quokkas' chattering to be clearly audible. In his jacket pocket, the forgotten tiny robot he'd found on the night of the kidnapping began to translate the speech of the Quokka's into English. Surprised, Tits fished the little robot out and, as he brought up to his face. It adjusted its volume automatically so that no matter how close he held it to his ear, it was comfortable to listen to. He dropped it into his shirt pocket and listened in mounting horror to the chatter of the Quokkas.