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Authors: S. Joan Popek
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mouth. “Vyszood I eechu?”
“Huh?”
She lowered the bottle to her side. “I said, why should I eat you?”
“I’ve told you a thousand times.” He sounded as disgusted as a person that small can sound. “It’s what I was bred for. It’s my destiny—I’m a delicacy—I must be eaten.”
“Oh yeah, I remember. Aliens—spaceship ... big guys with little heads—breed you little guys for food. If you don’t become someone’s lunch, you don’t go to heaven. Do you really believe that crap? Because if you’re real, somebody’s done a real number on you.”
“Number?”
“Yeah. Snow job ... bullshit ... brainwashed.”
“I don’t know what you mean, but I do know that if I hadn’t been so curious when the ship landed, I wouldn’t have snuck out the cargo hold to look around your world. And, I wouldn’t have been stuck here when they took off. By now, I’d be a fond memory on the Captain’s palate and safely in heaven. Don’t you see? If you don’t eat me, I’ll never go to paradise.” He sat on his plump little rump and held his round little head between his tiny hands. He started rocking backward and forth. “Oh woe. Oh woe.”
Alice felt a bit of compassion for the first time in years. She bent and lifted the tiny man gently, cradling him in both of her blue-veined hands. Setting him carefully on the table beside the bed, she bent to look at him closely for the first time since he had appeared three weeks ago. She poked his plump tummy with a shaky forefinger. “Hey! Are you really real?”
“Of course I’m real,” he blubbered through his sobs.
“Okay, okay. Stop crying. Look, I’m not saying I will, but if I did eat you, how would I do it?”
The tears stopped as suddenly as they started. He smiled hopefully up at her. “Any way you like. Broiled, baked, raw, whatever.”
“Uggh.” Alice’s stomach lurched again. “How do your alien masters do it?” She was stalling. The vodka was beginning to make her feel better. If she had another, maybe this hallucination would go away. She slugged the last of it and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, he was still there and still talking.
“I’ve told you all this before.” He rolled his little, black raisin shaped eyes toward the ceiling in exasperation. “I’m a Mrpagalump. Primarily bred for dessert. If I was on the ship, I would be bathed in exotic spices, set on a platter in a bed of Volupian greenery, and served with an excellent pooberry sauce. I would swim in the sauce for a while, then some lucky person would swallow me whole.”
“You mean like we eat oysters?”
“Yeah, sort of, but I’m sure that I’m a lot better than those tasteless, slimy muscles.”
Alice looked at his lollipop-shaped head and his doughboy tummy as he waved his skinny little arms excitedly. The red, white, and blue stripes covering his body made her head swim. “Look, Mr. Pugg-loomph.”
“Mrpagalump.”
“Whatever. Look Mr. Glump, you should think about this. If you are real, why do you want to be somebody’s meal? Why not be glad you escaped and enjoy life?”
He stared up at her with as thoughtful a look as a lollipop can have. “I never thought about that.”
She lit a cigarette and through the smoke, whispered, “Well, maybe you should.”
“I would like to see if Marlena gets away from Stephano on Days of Our Lives,” he mused. “And, there is that new mini-series starting Saturday. Maybe we could wait a few days. It would give you time to decide how to serve me.”
“Yeah. Right.” Alice turned to contemplate her reflection in the cracked mirror over the sink. Her straw-stiff, bleached hair framed a once attractive face that now looked sallow and drawn. Tiny lines ran from her faded blue eyes to her cheeks. She took another drag from the smoldering cigarette and snubbed it viciously out in the sink. “Where is that damn bottle?”
Mr. Glump had poofed from his perch on the
“Huh?”
She lowered the bottle to her side. “I said, why should I eat you?”
“I’ve told you a thousand times.” He sounded as disgusted as a person that small can sound. “It’s what I was bred for. It’s my destiny—I’m a delicacy—I must be eaten.”
“Oh yeah, I remember. Aliens—spaceship ... big guys with little heads—breed you little guys for food. If you don’t become someone’s lunch, you don’t go to heaven. Do you really believe that crap? Because if you’re real, somebody’s done a real number on you.”
“Number?”
“Yeah. Snow job ... bullshit ... brainwashed.”
“I don’t know what you mean, but I do know that if I hadn’t been so curious when the ship landed, I wouldn’t have snuck out the cargo hold to look around your world. And, I wouldn’t have been stuck here when they took off. By now, I’d be a fond memory on the Captain’s palate and safely in heaven. Don’t you see? If you don’t eat me, I’ll never go to paradise.” He sat on his plump little rump and held his round little head between his tiny hands. He started rocking backward and forth. “Oh woe. Oh woe.”
Alice felt a bit of compassion for the first time in years. She bent and lifted the tiny man gently, cradling him in both of her blue-veined hands. Setting him carefully on the table beside the bed, she bent to look at him closely for the first time since he had appeared three weeks ago. She poked his plump tummy with a shaky forefinger. “Hey! Are you really real?”
“Of course I’m real,” he blubbered through his sobs.
“Okay, okay. Stop crying. Look, I’m not saying I will, but if I did eat you, how would I do it?”
The tears stopped as suddenly as they started. He smiled hopefully up at her. “Any way you like. Broiled, baked, raw, whatever.”
“Uggh.” Alice’s stomach lurched again. “How do your alien masters do it?” She was stalling. The vodka was beginning to make her feel better. If she had another, maybe this hallucination would go away. She slugged the last of it and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, he was still there and still talking.
“I’ve told you all this before.” He rolled his little, black raisin shaped eyes toward the ceiling in exasperation. “I’m a Mrpagalump. Primarily bred for dessert. If I was on the ship, I would be bathed in exotic spices, set on a platter in a bed of Volupian greenery, and served with an excellent pooberry sauce. I would swim in the sauce for a while, then some lucky person would swallow me whole.”
“You mean like we eat oysters?”
“Yeah, sort of, but I’m sure that I’m a lot better than those tasteless, slimy muscles.”
Alice looked at his lollipop-shaped head and his doughboy tummy as he waved his skinny little arms excitedly. The red, white, and blue stripes covering his body made her head swim. “Look, Mr. Pugg-loomph.”
“Mrpagalump.”
“Whatever. Look Mr. Glump, you should think about this. If you are real, why do you want to be somebody’s meal? Why not be glad you escaped and enjoy life?”
He stared up at her with as thoughtful a look as a lollipop can have. “I never thought about that.”
She lit a cigarette and through the smoke, whispered, “Well, maybe you should.”
“I would like to see if Marlena gets away from Stephano on Days of Our Lives,” he mused. “And, there is that new mini-series starting Saturday. Maybe we could wait a few days. It would give you time to decide how to serve me.”
“Yeah. Right.” Alice turned to contemplate her reflection in the cracked mirror over the sink. Her straw-stiff, bleached hair framed a once attractive face that now looked sallow and drawn. Tiny lines ran from her faded blue eyes to her cheeks. She took another drag from the smoldering cigarette and snubbed it viciously out in the sink. “Where is that damn bottle?”
Mr. Glump had poofed from his perch on the
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