10
Chuck Doesn't Understand Christmas Or Chicken
“ I desire to see these…” I hesitate on the plural of octopus. Charles is unsure if it’s octopi or octopuses. Neither sounds right to me. “Octopus creatures.” Not ideal, but then mouth language seldom is. “As soon as possible.”
My larva lies sprawled out in the inner nest, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He verbalizes something that sounds to me like, “Gah.”
Charles doesn’t understand its meaning any more than I do. My tentacles have retracted to rest inside this body so I poke Travis with my finger. “I wish to see the octopus.” The mind pictures Charles has of this creature intrigue me greatly. I wish to see them for myself. I do not wish to wait. “Now.”
The larva slurs more words that sound like, “Cuddle or fuck off.”
Cuddle. I consult with Charles. He understands the word in theory, but not practice. I am to place my body behind the larva’s and leave it there. We share body heat and skin touch, but there is no copulation. It’s an intriguing idea so I give it a try. This body isn’t quite as large as the larva’s, but somehow cuddling is still achieved. I drape one of my arms over his waist and pull him closer. Not for consumption or procreation. Just for… closeness. Comfort.
Very interesting. And… pleasurable, although not due to the two primary sources of animal pleasure—sex and eating. It seems I am not done learning the ways of these alien creatures.
“Mmm… nice,” Travis mumbles. He pushes back against me, as if it was possible to get closer even though we are already skin to skin. Then, if the rhythmic noise he makes with his mouth and nose is any indication, he falls asleep.
I find my body is also tired from the many events that have transpired this day. I have learned much and discovered there is more knowledge I need to gain. This body is also… hungry. Not for more copulation—for food sustenance. My stomach signals its emptiness by rumbling an uncomfortable complaint.
I could eat the larva, of course. It was my intent. But if I do, how will I find the shed where the octopus is located? I should wait. Besides, he will be tastier with ripening. There is food in the heat evaporation appliance Charles calls a fridge. Human food. I do not care for it, though it does fuel this body sufficiently.
“Dude, your stomach is loud,” Travis says. He sounds more alert now than he did earlier. He should be able to take me to the octopus shed.
“You demanded I cuddle with you, so I have delayed nutritional sustenance. I have also delayed viewing the octopus.”
Travis stretches, nearly hitting me in the face with one large hand. “You are so weird. I guess that means you’re hungry. Me, too. I could eat a horse. The octopus is gonna have to wait until tomorrow, Professor Impatient. Pretty sure the Shedd doesn’t stay open late.”
I am disappointed the shed is now closed to me, but I am curious about the eating of animal flesh. While it is not something Charles did, I gather other humans partake. They are probably hunters. “Are horses delicious?” I ask.
“No, of course not, dumbass. They’re horses.”
“But they are acceptable meat for humans to consume. Is there one nearby to hunt?”
The larva wriggles around to face me. “You are not going to go hunt horses, you hear me? We do not eat horses. Well, I mean some people might eat horses, but we don’t. You will not hunt down some poor kid’s pony for a snack.”
Again I am disappointed. I will have to eat the things Charles calls lentils again.
“I’ll grab my phone and order something. Unless you disappeared it, in which case you owe me a new phone.” Travis scowls at me and I know he intends menace, but I find it… I think the right word is endearing.
“I did not ‘disappear’ your phone. It is outside the inner nest.”
“Kick ass.” He stands up awkwardly and makes his way to the door, opens it, and scoops up his phone device. Then he jumps up and falls backwards into the pillows. “Oof. This is fun and all, but you need a real bed.”
I scoff at the idea of a real bed. There is one in the room where Charles used to sleep and it’s the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever encountered. “Use your phone device to procure food, larva. I would like something besides tofu and lentils if humans have other things to eat.”
“Stop calling me larva. It’s not cute. If it wasn’t for the tentacles, I’d be outta here.”
I feel something almost like pain in my chest. I don’t understand it. Charles tells me it’s a feeling of rejection and to get used to it because there’s a lot of it on this planet. It’s a horrifying idea. I do not like this rejection feeling. It won’t be tolerated.
The larva—no, he’s Travis—gazes intently at the screen of his phone device. “Let’s see here. What sounds good? Pizza? Chinese? Mexican? Oh, I know! Let’s get chicken.”
Charles is revolted by the idea of eating chicken but I do not wish to feel rejection again so I agree to everything Travis suggests. Our meal will include, besides the chicken meat pieces, biscuits, cole slaw, macaroni and cheese, and green beans, with iced tea to drink.
Charles is not happy that the meal is full of meat, sugar, fat, and something he calls gluten. I’m not sure what that is because neither is Charles. He is only aware that it’s bad to eat.
I decide to ignore my host’s distaste. This meal couldn’t possibly be any worse than lentils and tofu.
“Okay, food’ll be here in about a half hour.” Travis flops back onto the bedding of the inner nest. “Chuck, I gotta ask. Why the fuck is there an inflatable hot tub in the living room?”
That is an easy question to answer. “Because one with hard sides would not fit through the door.”
Travis groans. “No, I mean why a hot tub at all? It’s just so… random.”
“It isn’t random at all. My kind need to stay warm and we find comfort and rejuvenation in heated liquids. Dihydrogen monoxide is an acceptable fluid for this purpose, and it is quite plentiful. I tried to use the basin meant for bathing, but I found it to be too small for proper rejuvenation.”
“So there’s a hot tub in your living room because you like taking hot baths to soak your tentacles and get warm.”
“That is an accurate summary, yes. Perhaps you are less stupid than I thought.”
“Asshole. The hot tub thing is weird but you’re weird, so I guess it fits. C’mere. We’ve got time to kill before the food gets here.”
“I already am here. I’m not sure how much more here I can get.”
“Oh my god just shut up for like five minutes so I can kiss you.” Travis yanks me down to lie next to him.
Kiss me? From Charles I know this is a matter of placing lips against lips for mutual gratification. It is yet another thing my people do not do, and Charles won’t give me a proper explanation.
“Why do you want to put your lips on mine?” I ask.
“Jesus, alien dude. You’ve never been kissed?”
“Chuck, not alien dude. I am complying by calling you Travis. And no, I have never kissed, and the host’s mind pictures are insufficient for understanding. There is something about mistletoe, but Charles isn’t being particularly forthcoming on the subject.”
“People kiss under mistletoe at Christmas. Beats me why.”
Christmas. The wide array of mind pictures flooding me is nearly overwhelming. Opening presents, singing, sweet treats, mistletoe, green and red and sparkling lights, but also aching loneliness and bleak despair. Frustration and disappointment. Crushed hopes. Cold wind and a small homeless child freezing to death in the snow. Men wearing red and white and ringing bells. Being grateful for what you have even when what you have isn’t enough. The sheer volume of contradictory thoughts and images paralyze me. It’s too much to process. No one prepared me for this.
“I don’t understand the meaning of Christmas,” I say.
“Join the fucking club, buddy,” Travis says then pulls me down until my lips graze his. “Close your eyes, stop thinking, and just feel.”
I do and I’m overwhelmed again but in a very different way. This feeling is powerful as the ocean but simple as a drop of dihydrogen monoxide falling from the sky. The body I occupy burns where it touches Travis, except our lips. This kissing is like nothing I or Charles have ever experienced before. It’s electricity and fire and a soothing balm against damaged skin. It’s like procreation in that Travis invades my mouth with his tongue, but this would feel just as good and… intimate, Charles supplies, if we were both dressed from head to toe. Being mouth to mouth is more in a way that even my body penetrating his can’t measure up to.
How do humans not do this every second of every day of their lives?
“Dude,” Travis says, pulling away just far enough for his lips to form words. “I mean Chuck. We gotta stop.”
I feel bereft. I want to weep. “But why?”
If I have failed in some way, I’ll have to find the means with which to fix what was broken. I must have this kissing again and it must be with Travis, the one I’ve chosen as mine.
“Because the food’s here.” Travis leaves my side, standing awkwardly. He picks up one of the fabric swaddlers that Charles calls blankets and wraps it around his waist. “I’ll go grab it from the delivery dude. If you wanna eat, you gotta get up, too. We’re not eating in here.”
As if on cue, my stomach makes angry—and loud—demands. I will need to try this chicken food Travis has procured for us. Kissing will have to wait—for now. I also grab a fabric swaddler and leave the inner nest.
Travis places the food on the countertops in the kitchen and finds two plates in a cabinet, handing one to me. I look at the unfamiliar food dubiously. None of it looks like meat. Travis points to the various substances, naming them.
“Don’t be such a damn baby. Everyone likes chicken. And try the other stuff, too. No sex until your plate is clean.”
“What about kissing?” I ask.
He narrows his eyes at me. “No kissing, either. Just shut up and eat.”
He ends up taking my plate, spooning some of all the food-type substances onto it, then puts two pieces of what he calls chicken on top. I understand chickens are a type of bird distantly related to extinct giant reptiles. Nothing on my plate resembles that.
Travis shoves the plate my way. “Here. Eat.”
I watch him. He picks up a hunk of the chicken substance and bites into it. Clear juice dribbles from it and Travis sighs and makes noises similar to the ones when we partake in copulation.
I pick up what Travis calls a drumstick. I’m not sure what part of this chicken creature that would be and Charles refuses to cooperate and enlighten me. Tentatively, I bite into it, chew, then swallow.
“Well?” Travis asks.
I struggle for the right mouth words. “Eating this chicken is like putting this body’s cock or dick inside your very small and tight rectal cavity then thrusting many, many times until it ejaculates into your body.”
Travis stares at me. “Does that mean you like it?”
“I want to eat nothing but chicken until the end of my existence.”
“There’s more to eating than chicken. Try the rest of the stuff on your plate. If you eat it all, you can have another piece of chicken.”
The other food substances are more pleasurable than lentils and tofu but not anything as good as chicken. My favorite of these lesser foods is the macaroni and cheese. In addition to more of the delicious chicken I eat two more servings of that.
Inside me Charles moans about gluten and being lactose intolerant. I do not know what these things are and am unconcerned.
I thought after food I would want sex, but this body is tired now. It wants to be left alone to digest. Travis seems to feel the same. After cleaning up I suggest we spend time relaxing in the object he calls an inflatable hot tub.
Travis makes a face. “I should probably take a shower first. You, too. We’re both covered in dried jizz and chicken grease.”
“I can easily purify the dihydrogen monoxide by removing all extraneous atoms from the fluid.”
“Oh,” Travis says. “That’s super fucking handy. Sure.” He pulls the cover off and sticks his hand in. “It’s not very warm. I’ll turn the heater up, but we’ll have to wait.”
“No need.” I dip one of my lateral tentacles into the water. First, I eliminate any contaminates from the fluid then I excite the molecules to move faster and this raises the temperature. I bring it to a few degrees warmer than human blood and tell Travis to get in.
He puts his hand into the water again and his eyes get huge. “How did you heat the water up so fast?”
I begin to explain about exciting the molecules and Travis shakes his head.
“You know what? Never mind. It’s all alien magic.” He climbs inside the liquid receptacle and sighs with contentment.
“I believe you mean science,” I say, joining him in the receptacle.
Travis puts a hand over my mouth. “Alien magic,” he insists.
“I ate the food and would like kissing now,” I remind him.
“You were a very good boy,” he says, moving so he can straddle my lap. “You deserve a treat.”
We do the kissing so long that I need to excite the dihydrogen monoxide molecules twice and purify the water once. It is, in my estimation, a thoroughly enjoyable experience.