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Week 534 (August 16-31). Story topic: stuck in the mud
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AUTHOR: Garrison KellyTITLE: En Taro Adun, Space Cadet
GENRE: Sci-Fi Black Comedy
WORD COUNT: 1,800+
RATING: PG-13 for swearing, violence, and some sexuality
“Yoooooooou’re listening to 113.5 WACK FM radio, the conspiracy station. I’m your host Nikki Roman and this is Stargazer Hour episode 750. Before we get into today’s episode, I want to say a quick thank you to this station’s sponsors.
This episode is brought to you by Raid: Shadow Legends, the only fantasy online RPG where having a giant sword is considered a personality trait and being an ugly goblin is considered a character flaw.
And also by Noom, the weight loss app for your phone that uses psychology to help you reach your goals. Whether you want that smoking hot beach body or you want to trigger your anorexia, Noom has you covered like a mortician’s body bag.
And finally by Stuck in the Mud, the newest flavor of chocolate ice cream for anybody who wants to look like a Human Centipede character while eating it. It goes perfectly with that Noom app I mentioned earlier, especially if it’s bulimia you want to trigger instead of anorexia.
Now that our housekeeping is out of the way, I’d like to introduce today’s guest. He’s been itching to come onto the show for a long time, almost as much as he likes to itch his lesion-covered testicles. Please welcome alien skeptic, Bernardino Coffin. Yes, that is what it says on his driver’s license. No, it is not his incel name, but you’d be forgiven if you thought otherwise. Welcome to the show, Mr. Coffin.”
Throughout the sponsorship housekeeping, Nikki kept an eye on the polo shirt-wearing, neck-bearded man sitting across from her booth as his eyes widened in amazement at the studio doodads. In addition to sound equipment and microphones up to yin-yang, elongated purple fingers hung on the walls as well as a transmorgrant for an alien fetus and a lava lamp that looked like a xenomorph jacked off into it.
Bernardino smiled, spread his fingers in a Live Long gesture, and said, “En Taro Adun, Space Cadet. I come in peace.”
“You play one game of Starcraft and you think you can kick my ass in an alien debate? I hope that’s not the only ammunition you brought with you tonight.” Nikki adjusted her purple skull cap as well as her thick-rimmed glasses, not giving away any sign of intimidation.
Bernardino shook his head. “You honestly believe there are aliens out there? Yes, I AM arrogant enough to believe we’re the only ones in this universe. I haven’t seen jack shit ever since you started this stupid radio show. You got a telescope around here? How about a rocket ship? Seriously, where are all these aliens you keep talking about?”
“Clearly, you neglected to do your research before coming here tonight. And no, playing computer games from the 90’s doesn’t count as research and neither does watching Star Wars. George Lucas isn’t in the business of making documentaries, honey.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Nikki reached down into the fridge underneath her booth and pulled out a canister of green slime, unscrewing the top before taking a heavenly sniff of its contents. She fanned herself off for extra effect. “You know what this is?”
“Gonorrhea?”
Nikki chuckled. “No. This is xenomorph blood, my friend. Found this cutie in an abandoned government lab. You’d think they’d want to take stuff like this with them, but apparently it’s not much of a priority and that’s why I have this show. It’s got all sorts of nutrients and DNA and shit. Tastes good too. Want a drink?”
Bernardino’s face contorted in disgust. “No!”
“Fine. More for me.” Nikki downed the canister in record time, making uncomfortable glugging noises with her giant throat. “Mmm! This is some tasty shit! If you like sugary shit, give this a try sometime. Me? I don’t normally drink stuff like this because my boyfriend is a diabetic, which pretty much means I don’t get any sugar either. I do love this stuff, though. It’s like what would happen if the Protoss fucked a can of Mountain Dew.”
“P…Protoss?” Bernardino’s breathing grew heavier as he became visibly nervous. “You just said playing Starcraft didn’t count as research. Now it does?”
“Yeah, playing Starcraft doesn’t count as research. But interviewing the characters does.”
“…HUH?!” Bernardino’s eyes bulged in confusion.
“It’s amazing what you can learn about a culture if you actually sit down and talk with someone. They’ve been at war for seemingly their entire existence with the Zerg. The two races were pretty much made to do battle with each other. You don’t carry warp blades with you unless you’re prepared to slice a zergling in half with one of those. Conversely, you don’t spit acid in someone’s face unless you were trying to kill his ass.”
“…You’re goofy.”
“Really? Does that make you Donald Duck or Mickey Mouse? I really want to know, because I hear Space Mountain is lovely this time of year. If the sunlight hits the Martian mountain at just the right angle, you’ve got these lovely colors blasting everywhere like an Aurora Borealis.”
“…You’re not making a lick of sense…”
Nikki shrugged. “Are you sure you don’t want to see more alien devices? I’ve got one that goes up your…”
“Dude!” The room went uncomfortably silent. “Nobody knows what the fuck you’re talking about. You’re just rambling about stupid random nonsense that nobody cares about. You accuse me of not researching your wacky ideas? Well, guess what, Nikki? You didn’t research my name. You have no idea who I am, do you?”
Nikki remained calm and cool throughout the insanity accusations. “If I Google your name right now, am I going to find your Reddit Manosphere posts? I’m sure those Jordan Peterson quotes are going to make you sound even saner than me right now.” She huffed. “Lobsters. Give me a break. Although, if you really want to find aliens with grabber claws, you should look into studying life on Jupiter. They’ve got some whoppers over there. Yeah, I know the planet is mostly gas that no one in their right mind would want to breathe in, but…”
“Right mind?!” Bernardino clasped his hands over his own skull. “Do you hear yourself? If you would have Googled my name, you would have seen that I work in a psychiatric ward. I published a book about alien conspiracy theorists years ago.”
“Is that where you met your Reddit fans?”
Bernardino whipped out his smart phone and punched a few buttons before showing Nikki something that made her own eyes bulge out of her head in disbelief. “You see that chart? See that? That line nose-diving onto the X-axis is your listener base. You are hemorrhaging audience members! They played along with your bullshit because they like sci-fi and all that, but now you’re just unhinged. How often to people actually call into your show, Nikki?”
She was speechless as the life in her eyes slowly faded.
“How many people, Nikki?!”
Still no answer.
“That’s what I thought. I’m inclined to have you committed right now. We’ve got all sorts of ‘alien devices’ at the psych ward. You’re perfect for us!” A confident smile crept across Bernardino’s face. “Although…there is one way you can still make a living.”
“…Uh-oh…” Nikki’s tummy rumbled underneath her blue and white tie-dye hoodie.
“If this radio show doesn’t work out for you, and it won’t…then you can always sell feet pics for Bit Coin.” Bernardino’s shit-eating grin was in full-effect.
Then again, so was Nikki’s. “You know what? You’re right! With that kind of money, I can get all the insulin I want for my BF. It all makes sense now. Got your camera phone ready?”
“…I was just joking, but…”
“No, no, no, get that camera ready. I’ve got some tootsies for you!”
Bernardino nervously huffed, but nonetheless maintained his smile, got his phone’s camera ready, and said, “Okay! Whenever you’re ready!”
Just like that, Nikki slipped off her flip-flops and planted her tootsies on the booth. But instead of a supermodel moment, Bernardino’s eyes widened with fear. He shook so hard that he dropped his phone and struggled to pick it up again. They weren’t ordinary feet. They were dinosaur-like with purple scales, large soles, and bloody talons that looked like they could slice through steel like a birthday cake.
“Go on! Snap a few pictures. Make me famous!” No response, just more shaking on Bernardino Coffin’s part. “Okay, so maybe you’re not a foot guy after all. Maybe you’d like some tail instead.” Nikki pulled her black jeans down and revealed purple scaly legs with a dripping red scorpion tail attached to the top of her ass. Bernardino dropped to his own ass and slowly inched away.
Nikki pulled off her hoodie and revealed more scaly flesh as well as gigantic bat wings, also with talons and blades, thousands of them, in fact. She then ripped off her human face and revealed a hideous dragon visage underneath, with spiky teeth, a slurpy snake tongue, and glowing gold eyes. By this point in the transformation, Bernardino was pissing himself.
“You still think this is a joke, Dr. Coffin?” Nikki asked in a distorted multi-layered voice. “You still think I’m just a conspiracy theorist with lapsed fans?! Go ahead! Take as many pictures as you’d like!”
Despite the fact that his arm was vibrating like a seizure victim, Bernardino managed to snap a few nice ones on his phone. He even got out a few jittery words. “Y..yeah…yeah...that’s how you get people to believe you…don’t tell them aliens exist…show them?” Dr. Coffin shielded his face with his hairy arms.
Nikki giggled in that sinister voice of hers. “Show, don’t tell. The most basic rule of storytelling and I completely neglected it. Having a radio show instead of a podcast didn’t help matters. Nonetheless…my secret is out. There is life in other worlds. There is a whole family of creatures like me waiting in the outer reaches. My people will be invaded just like any other colonial conquest you humans are known for. But at least you got your proof and I got my ratings back…Isn’t that lovely…”
She swatted away her recording equipment and marched towards Bernardino’s convulsing body while he pleaded, “No!” over and over again. She opened the tip of her scorpion tail as well as the tips of her wing blades and spiked mouth. With all of her frightening limbs, she chomped down on Bernardino’s body and began sucking his life force dry. Every liter of blood. Every chunk of flesh. Every salty morsel of bone marrow. Every muscle fiber on a body not known for Greek god definition. But most importantly, every scream that came out of Bernardino Coffin’s mouth was every bit as delicious and heavenly as the body itself. In fact, his screams tasted like chicken, which went well with xenomorph blood, the Noom app, and Stuck in the Mud ice cream.
Once Bernardino Coffin was wiped completely clean from human existence, Nikki rubbed her tummy and said, “You know what? I could get used to eating this many humans. If they’re coming at me with gauss rifles and shit…I’m coming at them with salt and pepper! And maybe some ketchup. I like ketchup.”
For my submission, I have a story with my Mafia guys that I wrote from two points of view because I just like doing that, for a total of just over 3,000 words. Some swearing, no violence or sex."Stuck", Patrick's POV
“It’s stuck.” Virgil crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat, scowling.
And I had to admit that he was right. It wouldn’t move in drive, or reverse. Or low. Or neutral. It wouldn’t move. It was just a little too far off the road in a recently flooded area, and thick mud was stopping any attempt at getting it going again. And it was my fault.
“This is your fault.” Virgil confirmed. Goddammit. “And we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Virgil drew his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, but put them back and undid his seatbelt. I did the same and we stepped out of the car as carefully as possible. It was in a mud puddle and we were trying to not ruin our nice shoes. “You said you could drive the car.” Virgil’s voice was even, not raised or sharp. Which with him, meant nothing. He might be fine or enraged right now. I’ve known him for so long, but he can be hard to read.
See, what had happened was this: The car belongs to our Boss. He just bought it and I use bought a little loosely but he’s acquired it, not to keep but to use in some future trade yet to be determined. The plan was for me to drive Virgil out to where we were getting the car from and then I’d drive Virgil’s Prius back while he took the unquestionably better car. Which sucked but the Boss is the Boss and Virgil’s handled cars like these for the Boss before where technically I’ve never had the pleasure. It was going to be an extremely simple thing, among allies, all safe and stuff.
But. It’s a Lamborghini. We don’t exactly see those a lot since the Boss discourages personal cars that attract attention. Like I said, Virgil drives a Prius and he’s not even into cars enough to have a problem with it. He likes it. I, however, did not want to get stuck in a Prius when there was a Lambo.
So my proposal to Virgil was this: If I can convince one of our lower rank to come along and drive the Prius back, could I ride with Virgil in the Lambo? Virgil wanted to say no. But it didn’t actually add any problems and I was persistent and he caved. I found a guy who agreed to help out for a modest fee which I would pay him, and I was set.
But when he actually got to the car, I couldn’t help myself. It was too beautiful, I had to try. And so I cajoled and promised and persuaded until Virgil actually agreed that I could drive the car until he ordered us to switch, in the event of a stall or obvious problems controlling it. I would go slowly, carefully and not be an idiot. I mostly kept to this. The spin-out wasn’t totally my fault and if the tires were actually practical, we’d probably be out of the mud okay.
Back to the present.
“I can drive the car.” I countered. “I drove the car.” Until I hydroplaned, anyway. There’s a reason some cars are called scary fast. The gas pedal on that car is beyond reason. And yet, Virgil might have been okay where I lost it. He fell back and when I looked back at him, he was staring at the car, thinking. “I should have taken Henri.” He muttered to himself. “Henri or Ann. Should have taken Henri or Ann.” He shook his head.
For a little context, We’re a Family, if you get my meaning. I’m the head bookkeeper and financial wizard. Virgil’s the Boss’s bodyguard and my cousin. Ann is his twin, the Boss is our uncle. Henri isn’t blood but he’s fairly high up and he’s Virgil’s bestie and personal trainer whether Virgil likes it or not. And neither of them would have fought him for the steering wheel. I may be in trouble.
“You hurt?” Virgil’s voice made me jump.
“Hmm?” I had to stop and think. We’d had a rough landing so to speak and we’d both been jarred. “No. No, I’m good. You?” As for the car, it was pretty unharmed.
“Well,” Virgil drawled, “I’m not in pain and I’m not going into shock which would be the main thing to stop me feeling pain, so nope.” He shrugged. “I think I’m good.” And Virgil would actually know what shock was like, so I trusted him when he said that. He’s tough as hell.
“Eh,” I cleared my throat, kind of not looking forward to this part. “Do we call the Boss, or Ann?” Because it would be one of them.
“Well we can’t exactly call Triple-A, can we?” Okay, now he’s a little snarky. Virgil fished his phone out of his pocket and the screen lit up his face. Classic neutral expression and tangled blond hair. He hit a button and combed his hair with the hand that wasn't holding the phone while it rang. After a few rings he dropped his hand.
"Hey Ann. We, um, need some help.” He glanced in my direction for a split second, brows creasing.
“He did, actually. Yeah." Wait, what?
"Oh no it’s not on its roof or anything. Yeah. No, I'm okay." Virgil looked down at himself as if checking for damage and I tried to figure out if I was hearing what I thought I was hearing.
"And I'm okay too, incidentally." In case anyone cares.
"Oh Patrick says that he's okay t- no, no I'm listening. Sorry to interrupt." I scowled. Virgil was quiet for a minute. "I should have driven." He nodded slowly. "You're right. Patrick was just being -- Patrick -- about it." And he went on to explain what had happened and where we were. Then Virgil held his phone out for a second and then back to his ear. "My location's on, yeah. Thank you. We'll be right here. Yeah." He hung up.
I sighed. “How mad is the Boss going to be?” Our uncle was actually hard to anger when our little inner circle was concerned and it was an honest mistake, but I didn’t want a lecture before being made to pay for the tow and any repairs. Although I’d kind of rather deal with him than Ann. Ann’s scarier in a weird way. Virgil smiled. Why’s he smiling?
“The Boss, he’ll probably be happy we’re not hurt, knowing him. It was an accident. Ann’s on the way, she’ll be the one picking us up.” He smiled a little wider. “And she’s pissed.” Goddammit.
For the next little bit I felt kinda like somebody tied to a chair waiting for torture, execution, or torture and then execution. But because I wasn’t tied down I got up, paced, and took a quick piss on a tree. Virgil found a rock big enough for us both to sit on side by side and he gave a cigarette and the lighter after he lit his own. For the nest little bit we tried to make conversation, finding it awkward because we talk all the time so stuff gets exhausted. We already know pretty much everything about each other. Finally, Virgil pointed out something in the distance. A small car, not the tow truck. Ann’s car, a two seater. He blew out smoke. “I think that’s her.”
*
“What the hell!?” She was out of her car immediately and found me in the dark like a missile. I’d hoped maybe she’d fuss over her dear twin a little and be distracted, but that's right; their twins. He knows her. As soon as she was out of the car Virgil was hopping off the rock and stepping away to put me between himself and Ann. Asshole.
“What the hell nothing, it went out of control!”
I shouldn’t argue with her, I know. She’s right, she’s tougher than me, and she ranks higher. But I was mad. So after some back and forth, she held her hand up and said, “You know what, the Don can decide what to you. I’m over it.” The tow truck was just arriving by this time, courtesy of a few of our soldiers. They would keep this quiet.
She led the way back to her car and I was just about to get in when I saw the flaw in this plan. “Where am I gonna sit? I don't have any room.” Again, two seater.
Ann stopped short and looked to where the backseat should be, thinking. Virgil waited by the front passenger door. Ann smiled suddenly.
“I know where you can sit, Patrick.” And she opened her door, leaned over and pulled the lever to open the trunk. Was she serious. “Are you serious!?”
“I’ll think he’ll fit, don’t you think, Virgil?” Virgil was smiling from the other side of the car. Not a good smile, either. “I think so.” Before I could do anything against the two of them, Virgil was around the car again and he slung me over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I hit my shoulder on something when I was dumped into the trunk, and the last thing I saw before they shut the lid was both of their smiling faces.
“He’ll be fine.” Virgil’s muffled voice. “He’ll only be in there for a little while.”
“Actually,” Ann’s answer. “I was thinking we should stop on the way and get something to eat, you and me. Are you hungry at all?”
“Starving.”
Goddammit.
"Stuck", Virgil's POV“It’s stuck.” I sighed. I was stating the obvious, but Patrick kept trying to get the car to move and he needed to stop before he broke something. I hoped nothing was actually broken but I also hoped he would be made to pay for it if anything were. Not like he doesn’t have money, we’re all rich. “This is your fault.” I went on. “In the dark in the middle of nowhere.” Was it, though? I had caved to his stupidity and let him drive when I was supposed to be the driver. But you don’t live with him. I do. You don’t get it.
I needed a cigarette, took the pack out, and decided to smoke outside the very expensive car instead. I didn’t wait for Patrick to follow me as I got out and into the damned mud. Ann got me these sneakers. Ugh. “You said you could drive the car.” I pointed out. Almost too fed up to even yell.
This was supposed to be such an easy task. The car was ours, a very reasonable trade that we would trade again in the future to somebody. We just had to get it home. Patrick was supposed to drive my car home after driving me to get this car, leaving me in peace to focus on not crashing. I don’t love these overpowered cars, to be honest. But that’s not how Patrick functions. He does love these types of cars. So I had been convinced, little by little, to let him ride in this car and then drive it. I think his brother has my Prius. Gabe, what little we interact, seems less annoying than his older brother.
“I can drive the car.” He was saying, “I drove the car.” Sure you did. Hydroplaned, too. Although that puddle didn’t look that deep… I looked back at the car and shook my head. “I should have taken Henri.” Hindsight’s a bitch. Henri would have loved to come along. “Henri or Ann. Should have taken Henri or Ann.”
Here’s our situation. We’re part of a Family. But in that Family, what we call the inner circle is actually family. Genetic family. The head of the Family is the Boss. He’s my, Ann and Patrick’s uncle. Patrick is my cousin. Ann is my twin. I’m the Boss’s bodyguard, Ann’s his second in command. Patrick is a controller of money. He’s good at that, just not much else. And Henri, well Henri is a very close friend of mine. Not related but he’s sort of inner circle, or near it.
“You hurt?” I asked. I do care, to an extent. I sort of have to. Rules.
“Hmm? No. No, I’m good. You?”
Me? “Well, I’m not in pain and I’m not going into shock which would be the main thing to stop me feeling pain, so nope. I think I’m good.” The car, however, was not. We needed help. Even Patrick seemed to understand this.
“Eh, do we call the Boss, or Ann?” Because it would be one of them. You wish I were going to call the Boss. My dear sister is something of a perpetual state of annoyance with him.
“Well we can’t exactly call Triple-A, can we?” Which is true enough. The car’s legal status is questionable. I took my phone out of my pocket and found Ann in the contacts list. She must have had her phone on her, she picked up pretty quickly.
"Hey Ann.” I tried to smile. “We, um, need some help.”
“What happened,” she drawled, “You let Patrick wreck the car or something?” Damn. That was startling.
“He did, actually. Yeah." And Ann’s voice changed immediately. She’d been playing before.
“What the fuck!? Virg are you okay? What happened? Tell me it’s not on its roof somewhere!”
"Oh no it’s not on its roof or anything. Yeah. No, I'm okay." I was, right? Not bleeding or anything. Nothing hurts. I’m good.
"And I'm okay too, incidentally." Of course you are.
"Oh Patrick says that he's okay t-” “That’s great but I need you to listen.” So no room for argument. “No, no I'm listening. Sorry to interrupt." I sighed. But the lecture I endured was brief. "I should have driven." I agreed, placating. "You're right. Patrick was just being -- Patrick -- about it." I gave her a quick version of everything and told her where we were so she could send someone out here for the car. As for us, she insisted on coming herself. No need to worry the Boss over this, and she probably wanted to tear into Patrick. Is my location on? Um, maybe? I checked. "My location's on, yeah. Thank you. We'll be right here. Yeah." I hung up. Phew.
“How mad is the Boss going to be?” He asked. Hmm. See, that’s the thing. It was an act of god, basically. And the Boss is honestly nice to his people.
“The Boss, he’ll probably be happy we’re not hurt, knowing him. It was an accident. Ann’s on the way, she’ll be the one picking us up.” Which is good. For me. “And she’s pissed.” But not at me.
After that it was just waiting. Patrick didn't do that very well. He only quit pacing and worrying long enough to find a nearby tree to pee on like a dog. Good thing we were in the middle of a field without anyone around. I found a flat enough and dry enough to sit on and finally got around to lighting a cigarette. I don’t smoke often, to be honest. Not even one every single day. But they settle my nerves and can turn a would-be panic attack into just some anxiety. Patrick smokes more than I do, and I gave him one without being asked lest he whine even more.
After that we tried to make conversation. There’s no ‘what have you been up to’ or catching up when we all live under the same roof, so there wasn’t much to say. I was grateful to see the sun glinting off Ann’s car at last. “I think that’s her.”
*
“What the hell!?” Whew, am I glad I’m not Patrick right now. I had the good sense to get out of Ann’s way when she stormed away from her car and towards us. I love her, she’s my twin, we’d never hurt one another. But I didn’t want to be in the crossfire. So I finished my cigarette and felt quite a bit better as they went back and forth until Ann called a stop to it. Stupid of Patrick to argue with the second in command, anyway. The tow truck arrived and they got to work quickly and professionally. Ann led the way back to her car and I had my hand on the passenger door when Patrick stopped us.
“Where am I gonna sit? I don’t have any room.” Oh, right. Ann’s car is a two-seater. That would present a problem. I was staring into the middle console and thinking when Ann spoke.
“I know where you can sit, Patrick.” She was smiling and if she’s angry but also smiling, it’s never good. She leaned into the car and popped the trunk. I stifled a laugh. “Are you serious?” Patrick blurted. Ann was all smiles. Suddenly so was I. I couldn’t help it.
“I think he’ll fit, don’t you think, Virgil?”
Oh yes. “I think so.”
And Patrick not being exactly muscular, he doesn’t weigh much and seemed too shocked to even put up a fight. I threw him, not gingerly, over a shoulder and set him down in the trunk. Ann shut the lid after we took a few seconds to enjoy the view of his indignity.
“He’ll be fine.” I said. We’ve had people in that trunk before with only the obvious complaints. It was safe, air holes and everything. “He’ll only be in there for a little while.” But Ann was still smiling.
“Actually,” She twirled a lock of hair. “I was thinking we should stop on the way and get something to eat, you and me. Are you hungry at all?”
I grinned. “Starving.”
Epilogue: We got some lunch in a drive thru, Patrick survived just fine. He didn’t even complain to the Boss about the treatment because he was grateful to learn that the car only needed a good cleaning and he wasn’t in trouble. And Gabe didn’t wreck my Prius or anything.
Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a story previously used in this group. Only one submission per person is allowed.
Your story should be between 300 and 3,500 words long.
REMEMBER! A short story is not merely a scene. It must have a beginning, a middle, and an end.
This week’s topic is: stuck in the mud.
The rules are pretty loose. You could write a story about anything that has to do with the subject/photo but it must relate to the topic somehow.
Most of all have fun!
Thank you to Maria for suggesting the topic!