-SALOON AT THE EDGE OF EVERYWHERE-
Chapter Five
Rufus’s watch beeped. One more six hour shift of his life flushed down the drain thought a bitter voice in his head. Then the same voice, his own voice, suddenly sounded elated. “The Game,” it said.
“The game,” Rufus said out loud. He took one last swipe with the rag and stuffed it back in his pocket. He had one hour to prepare his small cabin for the weekly poker game. And the game was one of the few things he actually got excited about.
Rufus passed back through the bar and into the rear of the kitchen where the dishwashing station was. He saw Ox standing by the Warlord and it looked as though the two Xxos might have been having a conversation.
“Hey, Ox, hey ya, Warlord. I am out of here,” he said as he passed the two aliens. He pulled his timecard out of the slot and punched out on the time clock Ned had ordered from Earth. “See you in an hour, Ox,” he said over his shoulder as he hurried off to his room.
The Xxo known now as Ox leaned towards the Warlord in a way a human would have recognized as threatening. The Warlord continued patiently to wash dishes.
“Yes, too bad you can’t join us, Warlord,” Ox said in the language of their home world, yet still with a sneer any human would have recognized and even envied. With that he turned and stalked off.
The Warlord could not play poker. There was conflict inherent in the game, and his conditioning would allow no conflict.
If the truth were known, Rufus would have much rather played cards with the Warlord than with Ox if he had the choice. Because Ox, if I may use a peculiarly human but highly descriptive expression, was sort of an asshole.
Rufus went back out to Mainstreet and turned left. He lit a cigarette.
“Gotta set a bad example for the aliens,” he muttered to himself.
Most of the available space that fronted on the main corridor in this part of the ring was still unused. A layer of grime and dust covered the walls and walkway, but here and there new business was bringing life to the Hub as never before.
“A sporting goods store,” he blurted. “What the hell?”
He passed more blank, dirty walls and strolling, rolling life-forms. The rolling one was some creature in a big, clear rubbery ball filled with some sort of fluid. The living thing within the ball seemed to be swimming up the inside of it, paddling with large, pale flippers, which propelled the ball forward for all the world like a very large hamster in a giant hamster ball.
Rufus passed the new McDonald’s, busy as usual, then a music store that had opened more recently still. “We are turning the Hub into a freekin’ mall,” he said in a loud and disappointed voice. He continued,” If I see a Bed Bath and Beyond I swear I will blow myself out of an airlock.”
He came at last to a part of the wall under an overhead light that was flickering. He noticed new graffiti on the wall near the panel that led to his room. He squinted. He didn’t have his glasses on.
Save The Planets!, it said.
“From what?” he said.
There were also old markings on the wall that must have meant something to someone once. Street signs in a forgotten language. He touched a small rectangular section of the wall and a panel slid aside to make an opening just large enough for him to pass through, which he did. He walked down a dimly lit corridor of fairly good size, but which could become bigger to accommodate beings of larger size. Above, another of the old lights flickered and buzzed.
After a short walk he reached his dwelling place. He touched another panel and the wall let him into his room. He began immediately to prepare for the game.
His cabin was equipped with one table and some chairs. He wasn’t sure how many. He guessed there would be as many as would crowd the room if he needed them. He had never thought to try. He touched a panel on the floor with the toe of his shoe. A chair rose from the floor and configured itself to his size and shape as well as the human style of sitting. The furniture used bladders that could be inflated and clever sliding panels and sections to achieve most any shape needed. He tugged at an edge of the round table and it enlarged its surface to the size he required. He went around the table touching the floor with an outstretched foot. Like a blind guy searching for landmines in a bad joke, he thought. The floor remembered which guest had sat where, and what sort of seat they needed. First the two tall, large-topped stools for the Bats, then a sort of angled ramp for the Slug. A chair for Jimmy and, whoops, nothing for Ox, he just stood. He finished his clockwise circling of the table by raising a small hump which swelled at the top to a flattened mushroom shaped head. That’s what the Dick-head sat on. He almost shrugged.
Rufus put some pizza rolls in the microwave. He glanced at the electric cord where its plug end curled unused on the counter. Somehow devices used on the Hub could draw electricity or any other kind of power directly in a way neither he nor anybody else could understand. He could have cooked the snacks using the marvels of his tiny kitchen area, but he liked the home-cooked feel of microwaves.
He looked at his watch. He still had time. One thing about aliens, they were mostly punctual. Being late was yet another example of mankind’s ingenuity.
Rufus grabbed a big bag of potato chips from a shelf and then went back to the fridge under the sink counter and pulled out a container of onion dip. Imported, he snickered, all the way from Earth. Rufus thought of the food storage unit as a fridge but it was more old alien technology and it could pull off a neat little trick or two. Besides expanding to hold whatever it needed to, you could put a frozen turkey and a hot cup of coffee on the same shelf and they would remain at their original temperatures for days. Perishable foods would last an incredibly long time in these units. Rufus had no idea how any of these things worked, but he wasn’t really sure he knew how a TV worked, so he didn’t let it worry him. The fact that no one now had the technology to build these units did worry him a little bit, but only in a vague sort of way.
Rufus was self-centered, even for a human male. His motto was simple but none the less clever; ’I before we, except after me.’
His door panel began to make a very low rumbling sound which quickly rose through the octaves till it passed out of the range that human, or even dog, ears could hear. This was accompanied by a humming vibration and lights that flashed in spectrums which Rufus could see, and many more which he could not. This was, as Rufus thought of it, ‘the doorbell of the future’. It would alert virtually any life form that company had arrived.
Rufus touched the panel and it slid aside to reveal Jimmy and the two Bats. Before they could even enter the room Rufus spotted Ox, the Slug, and the Slug’s little helpers. Ox was burdened with many six-packs of beer which dangled from his top tentacles like festive Christmas ornaments. As everyone took their accustomed places at the table the last guest strode in to the room. His penis, and there is no sense beating around the bush here if you catch my meaning, was of impressive size from the human perspective. And there was no way a human could not notice it, because it protruded from the top of his head to curve back and hang from the rear like a single giant hair. A hair which nearly touched his waist in the back, just for the record.
That has to be the easiest hairdo to comb there ever was, Rufus mused.
Rufus hit the button on the microwave to heat the snacks and turned to Jimmy. “Get the cards and chips, Kid, I’m running a little late. Everyone called Jimmy ‘Kid’. He was 19 years old.
Rufus greeted his other guests as they settled at the table.
“Hi, Ox, thanks for bringing the beer,” he said to the Xxo. The alien’s top tentacles made a flicking motion which Rufus had come to interpret as ‘no big deal’.
“No big deal,” said the imposing figure.
Ox always brought the beer. Rufus more than suspected the Xxo figured his chances in the game were enhanced if everyone else was drunk. The Xxo’s plans were upset continuously by the fact that he did not hold his drink any better than any of the other players.
“Greetings, VarnTa, how are you?” Rufus asked the Stleeb. Most humans made the attempt not to call the Stleeb ‘Dick-heads’, at least to their faces. Despite the accuracy of this title it was not considered politically correct. Rufus, in this same spirit, tried also to refrain from asking VarnTa, ‘How’s it hanging?’ too often. Mostly, he didn’t want to wear out a good joke. Varn Ta nodded in return.
Rufus bowed, more or less sincerely, to first the Prince, and then the Baron. “Greetings, your Highness, and to you, your Eminence. You once again honor me with your presences.” Rufus did not mind playing up to the little fellows’ egos. It took, in his estimation, a unique outlook in order to be both a Royal figure and an employee at the saloon. The Royal coffers had been empty for countless ages. After all, there were very few common Bats to tax, and this forced some compromises in lifestyle among even the most elevated levels of the Bats’ feudal society. Ned was a very understanding boss in some ways, and let the Bats feel as if they ran the place themselves while not giving them too much to do. Ned thought Royalty was good for business. So far Ned had not started dressing the Bats up in little sheriff costumes, but he did make them wear little tuxedos.
Rufus was quite fond of the two little Royal reptiles. It wasn’t their fault that being a Prince among the Bats was about as rare as being a blonde haired human, and as prestigious as being the manager of a McDonald’s back on earth.
The little Prince, who was pot-bellied and bug-eyed, and had unusually large ears for a Bat, all perhaps because of a penchant the Royal Families of many planets have for inbreeding, waved away his bow.
“Arise, Sir Rufus,” said the Prince, in that tone of voice that only Highnesses seem able to achieve. He continued with, “Your hospitality is appreciated, and the game awaits.” This was all spoken in English. Most species had learned or were learning that language.
“Indeed,” said the Baron, who was quite thin for a Bat, and getting on in years as well, as evidenced by his duller black scales and eyes which had lost some of their sparkle.
The Prince’s full name and title was Baan Veen Var Steen, which translates out to Baan, Prince of the house of Steen. Oh and there were other titles as well, used primarily among other members of The Tribes of Taaleem, as the Bats referred to their own race.
The Baron was Meen Veel Var Steen, or Meen, Baron of the house of Steen. Sometimes, just in his head, Rufus thought of the Baron as ‘Meanie’. And then he thought of the Prince as ‘Eenie’. But not too often. At least until he found two more Bats to call Mynie and Moe. Then all bets are off.
Rufus turned his attention to yet another guest.
“Hello, Ssseeeet, how are you doing?” he asked the Slug. He directed his question directly to the Slug, or Muccassim as they were more accurately and politely known. But their resemblance to a five-foot long Earth slug was almost uncanny. Right down to the mottled, stripy brownish, blackish and yellowish coloring. And the copious amounts of oozing slime. Rufus was glad once again for the self-cleaning properties of his room.
Ssseeeet’s eyes on their long stalks flicked towards one of his Helper-Friends who was splayed on the floor close at hand. The little Helper-Friend watched the subtle weaving movements of the two bulging eyes as the Slug waved them about.
“All is well, friend Rufus,” said the smaller being on the floor in a surprisingly deep and rich voice. The English was flawlessly spoken.
Rufus never quite got over his amazement at the strange group lifestyle of the Slugs and their Helper-Friends. It had begun sometime early in their development, in the moist forests of their home world. The Slugs had formed symbiotic relationships with three other species. The prevailing theory was that this had begun in much the same way that the pilot fish of Earth has developed a relationship with the sharks. The tiny fish get the protection of the much bigger animal, as well as table scraps. In return the shark gets a very brave little dental hygienist. The relationship between the Muccassim and their Helper-Friends has evolved into a complicated but highly effective cooperative existence that continues to this day. It took a little getting used to for humans.
The Slugs were intelligent but they had no limbs and their mouth parts were unsuitable for speech. Gradually the Helper-Friends had developed those qualities that were most useful to their larger protectors. The Muccassim called their Helper-Friends the Scout-Friends, the Hand-Friends, and the Brain-Friends. It was devastating to a Slug when one of his little Helper-Friends died, but a new Helper-Friend would quickly be adopted into the group.
The Hand-Friend was 3 feet tall and looked a little like a terrestrial squirrel monkey. He would look even more like a squirrel monkey if squirrel monkeys were hairless, bright red, had four arms, no tail, and with muscles like a weight lifter on steroids. He had the ability to speak, but did not often do so. He was incredibly strong. Hand-Friends acted, as their title indicates, as the hands for the Slugs. They build things, and carry things, and fix things. They wore little silvery vests festooned with pockets and straps and clips to facilitate keeping objects which their Slug might desire.
As Ssseeeet oozed his way to his reclining ramp his Hand-Helper leaped up on to the table to his customary position for poker night. The Helper-Friends did not have individual names, but Rufus called the little guy Frodo.
The second Helper-Friend was called a Scout-Friend. This being was also 3 feet tall or so, was a pale green color, and had two huge luminous eyes bulging from his head. He was very thin and long-legged, with a scrawny little torso and two long arms ending in clawed, four fingered hands. Ssseeeet’s Scout-Friend sat in a corner in case he was needed to run and fetch something, which was one of their main tasks along with finding things and delivering messages. He also could speak to some degree if he so chose. This Helper-Friend reminded Rufus of his mental image of the Gollum character in the Tolkien books he had read as a child, and that is what he called him, when he thought to call him anything at all.
The last Helper-Friend was the most intriguing of them all. This was the Brain-Helper. He sort of resembled an Earth toad in shape but he walked upright on his two legs while his small arms stuck out of the middle of his chest. He was bright blue, one and a half feet tall, and walked like a sumo wrestler. It was when he sat that he most resembled a toad, because his rather bloated body would rest on his arms while his long legs splayed out to the sides. He had no neck, and his mouth wrapped around the front of his face and was full of tiny pointed teeth. His eyes were even bluer and brighter than the rest of him, and Rufus sometimes wondered if there might not be more going on behind them than anybody knew. They were the eyes of a very wise being, but no one really noticed. A smart service dog was still just a dog, after all.
The Brain-Helpers indeed had substantial brains of their own, which took up a great deal of their beanbag-like bodies. They needed them to remember things and think of things, but for the Slugs, not for themselves. They acted as the secretaries or executive assistants, if you prefer. They remembered everything from the entire history of the Muccassim to the next important meeting or appointment. In fact their memories seemed to go beyond photographic. But their most important task was to be able to read the eyestalk movements of their master and render them into whatever language was needed. They were living universal translators. Rufus already knew that Mr. Toad, as he thought of the diminutive alien, had a far better grasp of the English language than he did himself.
“I am glad you are well, my friend,” said Rufus, directing his reply at the Slug and not at Mr. Toad.
Again Mr. Toad watched Ssseeeet’s eyestalks dance.
“And how are things with you, Rufus?” asked the two beings acting as one.
Rufus flashed a thumbs up sign to the Slug. He received a head-bob in return, a singular honor and show of friendship, this direct communication.
Mr. Toad said,” Excellent.”
On the table, Frodo gave Rufus four thumbs up and a lovely grin. In the corner, Gollum gave him a brief nod as well.
“Let’s get the show on the road,” said Rufus to his assembled guests.
Pouring My Art Out 
Me 2
uh?
Just like the previous chapters, i really liked it 🙂 but maybe have another look at the paragraph beginning “Rufus touched the panel and it slid aside to reveal Jimmy and the two Bats”-I got a little confused to had the dick-head until the stleeb was properly introduced a little further down the page. Nevertheless, great stuff!
I do have a tendancy to answer questions a little while after the reader wonders what the answer is. After a while, I think you will instinctually just wait for the answer to pop up without worrying about it. But I just signed up for a writers workshop class. I may get some free editing and some advice on getting published.
oh ok 🙂 have fun with the workshop!
I hope so.
what a lot of comments…..i was just going to say how could the brain-friend recline on his arms if they come out of his chest – this is of course presuming his chest is at the front…..
and the punctuation thing……you can write exactly the same words down, in the same order, but change a few commas about and it means something entirely different; i think this can be used quite effectively in your story; i think the use of an alien or unreliable narrator can definitely add something, especially with regards to the perception of human speech and its meaning….and as you know i am quite biased in the fact that i often have no real interest in making anything i write ‘easy’ for a reader to read
mistakes in punctuation can often give rise to interesting things; and of course no offence meant towards annonymous for all that hard work 🙂
I was hoping to use my alien narrator as a crutch, but I get everybody’s points about my punctuation…
And the Brain-Friend just sort of lies down on his arms like he is doing push ups, either up to show attention, or with the little arms just sort of folded underneath like a sleepy kitten. It is really very cute. I will have to post a picture of Mr. Toad.
that you will…it’s just that ‘reclining’ is specifically meant to be on one’s back is all
Oh…
pee….
Okay, urine charge…
that could hurt…
If you do it wrong…
if you do it at all!
Ha!
Tomorrow we meet the enemy… or at least one of the enemy… or is he???
I gotta go to bed. Mollie is sick and I am exhausted.
go sleep, and i hope she’s better soon
That one I have to fix…
Finally got the time to read it…good so far.
Thank you.
Finally read this. Sorry..,I’ve been read slacking. I’m liking it more each time, and I can tell the story is heating up.
Chapter 7… things start to get a little crazy. And it never stops after that.
I thought this chapter was going to be about a poker game, but it was actually about how interesting it is to host one at your house! I was delighted by the “home-cooked feel of microwaves” and wondered what a slug would look like if one of his hand friends turned on him. Naturally, because I hate slugs, I mused at him going into the microwave, but I know Rufus isn’t that kind of guy. He’s just very descriptive.
Stay tuned in mere moments for the sex lives of aliens… but starting tomorrow, I am done introducing facts and characters and from then on, it is an avalanche of action… an escalation of excitement… a nail-biting roller coaster ride. weeeeeeee
I will pop the popcorn!
I like butter on mine.
As long as it’s not microwaved…
I used to have a hot air popper, but I don’t know where it is right now.
Use the stove then.
I will use a phazer or a phaser or a death ray!
OK. Let me know how it goes.
By the way, I dreampt about you and ALIENS all night last night so thanks for that.
I sort of get into your head, don’t I? Like some kind of alien burrowing brain worm…
…well, I puked out the last one, so I’m assuming that’s all I’ll have to do again.
Never assume anything.
You really do see to the heart of things, by the way. It isn’t about a poker game. Nothing in this story is about what it seems to be about on the surface. It isn’t about aliens, but what we can learn about humanity by looking at it through other eyes. The aliens are our crystal ball, but they are also a mirror in which we see our reflection.
I know this sounds like bragging, but despite the slipshod writing style that reflects my inadequite level of schooling, and the fact that I use an alien ‘voice’ to tell the story to cover up this weakness, every single line in the book says something. I am not one who believes in hidden meanings in every piece of writing, every song, but there are few lines that do not lead to something else, or at least set up a thought that seems to be just a shallow joke, but is really more, if you can just see it. Maybe that is why the idea of editing scares me.
I can absolutely see it. If you’re like me, when you read it back to yourself afterwards, you find yourself being amazed or even finding MORE *things* to plant inside of it. That’s something you look for and comment on when you read my stuff…so I’m guessing we just have that in common. Hidden things people can either get or not.
I don’t always comment on it because I find it overwhelming at times in your story. It’s almost more like poetry that way. Less plot, more imagination. The perfectionist in me doesn’t want to miss a single detail, but the housekeeper in me reminds me to pick up the toys laying on the ground, swirl my finger in the dust on the coffee table, lick the window and leave a chocolate on your pillow.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I am an editor. Not professionally, really, but I have edited about 7 or 8 books (mostly self-help and allegories) plus business magazines. But I have no idea what I would do with your book! I guess that is saying how much I appreciate the detail, and how certain twists and dead ends would drive me raving mad, you would have to pay me in kernels of popcorn in order to do a good job, and I can eat a looooooooot of popcorn.
Just sayin’ don’t be scared. You just need to find the right editor.
I should pay you. I plan on using all these comments as a selling point to a publishing house some day. At least I may have to thank you in credits.
Or… I could do what I did for a few of my friends who read it as I was writing it, and write you into the sequel. There are characters…mostly human ones… who are based on real people, with slight name changes. Hiddinsight would be a great alien name, or it could just be a human who happens to be helpful and kind and reminds me of you.
Mollie, my 13 year old, listened to so many ideas that I wrote her in twice, once as a human who appears soon, and once as a young alien with her personality.
If you insist on paying me, I’ll accept kernels of popcorn only. Write that into your sequel. I love the idea of being a human alien with a dose of whatever it is you have up your sleeve. What a great way to honor the insightful. Brilliant.
Oooohhh… I may just have to do an alien human hybrid….
PLEASE?
Well, I have a vauge idea for the next book… it starts with Rufus standing on his mom’s front deck wondering what to do next… I can’t go any farther than that or it will ruin the surprise for me. But I will need lots of aliens and humans. Why not put together a hybrid?
I just posted chapter 7. Things are heating up…
Just got back from a week away and now I am so behind. I feel like I’m standing in a pile of poo. But it’s just laundry. When am I going to catch up?
I am slowing way down. Just 2 chapters a week, max.
Breathing slowly coming under control again…uttering “thank. you.”
I am here to make people happy, not stressed.
But you can’t make everyone happy.
Oh, sure I can.
We need to talk about this, Art.
We need to talk about this art…
Alrighty then, I’ll go first.
You can’t make everybody happy. Stop it. It’s not healthy for your paintings.
Not even the blue ones???
Not even the blue ones.
sol
ARGHHHHH!!!! You are killing me here!!!!! First damn paragraph, second line…do you really want it to be bitter voiced? Don’t you want it to be just plain old bitter voice? Now. I’m going to calm down and enjoy getting to read this chapter finally tonight and I WILL NOT NOTICE ANY MORE ERRORS in this first read thru. I will not. I will not. I will not. Then I will reread it and get back to you if there are any other things I need to mention to you. Sorry. I’m taking it out on you when it is MY problem.
Oh well done! Absolutely great chapter! You are definitely keeping my interest and I would be inhaling this sucker in one fell swoop if you weren’t so wisely parceling it out to us. I just sighed a happy little contented sigh since I got my daily dose…you are almost as good as chocolate and coffee you know…
Lord have mercy child. I have four typed pages of notes for you…not all of them are errors, some of them are just incredibly witty comments and a few questions. LOL. But somehow I feel that the volume is more than what I should post here. What do you think? Should I email it to you or damn the torpedoes and post away?
I have a thick hull. I could most likely handle being torpedoed in the stern, as long as it doesn’t damage my poop deck…
(Sorry, I couldn’t resist that one)… I will suffer the slings and arrows of any pointing out of my bad typing skills gladly, for a chance to know what you think…
I think I might love you… just so you know…
One more chapter, to get to know the aliens and their mating habits…(I can’t remember how that popped into my head when I was writing this part, but it seemed important and funny at the time) and then the action begins. No more warnings, it is fasten your seatbelt time, and put a travel lid on that coffee…
I spell like a high school drop out… oh, wait….
I need your sharp eye… I keep missing the small details because I am proofreading to change some names and I thought I had finished the first half… help me… but maybe just one comment at the end of each chapter to point out my horrible spelling would be easier for both of us… any comments about my cleverness can be thrown in whenever the need is felt…(;-})
Ummmm…I’m not sure exactly what you told me to do. First you said post away then you said not more than one comment per chapter….and let me tell you THAT’s not gonna work…I am a wordy person. When I went to school you were seriously rewarded for the old “If you can’t dazzle (with brilliance) then baffle (with Bull Shit)” method of writing. I suffer mightily when forced to be concise. It is not in my nature nor my training. But I am pretty good at whipping it out of others’ writings when necessary. And quit your self bashing about your spelling. My use of my ‘gift’ (also known as a curse) is not intended to prompt self-flagellation or promote public humiliation. I know plenty of college graduates that can’t spell either. It has absolutely nothing to do with whether a person graduated from high school or anywhere else for that matter. It is just one of those things a person is either good at or not, like math or running or playing pool or singing or any number of things. It means nothing other than if you can’t, you need to ask for help from people who can. And just so you understand, many of my comments are about consistency and clarity issues. There are a few spelling and punctuation comments too, but it definitely is NOT all spelling issues. So. Would you be kind enough to clarify for me what your decision was regarding my comments on this chapter? Please and thank you very much. Now I’m going to go away. It is time for me to get to read Chapter 6 and I get very grumpy if I don’t get my chocolate and coffee fix in a timely manner.
I see the problem… I just meant that if you could confine the spelling error and typo comments to one list… instead of doing a new comment each time you spot one, it would make it easier for me to fix them. But I can see how that would be more work for you. On the other hand, I like all your comments, and the more the merrier. Hmmmm… that sort of sounds like I said it both ways once again. So please comment whenever you feel moved to do so… or even more often.
Alrighty then…here goes…
Paragraph 3, line 2…shouldn’t Warlord be capitalized? Isn’t that his name like Ox is the other guy’s name? And then you would need to remove the word the before the word warlord also.
Paragraph 4…the punctuation in your first line really needs work, but I’m trying not to advise on punctuation unless I can’t help myself.
Paragraph 5…you have made it “the” Warlord twice here…is that his name? Then the word the should not be there either time. Or is it his status? Then the word the is okay and I need to change my comment above for Paragraph 3. Or is it both? I’m confused.
Paragraph 6…HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa…the celery slash broccoli slash ent STALKED off! Perfect!
Paragraph 7 and again in Paragraph 8…the issue of the word the with Warlord must be resolved one way or another I think. Here you HAVE capitalized the w, like it is in fact his name…but then you added the word the also.
Paragraph 12…”A sporting goods store”, he blurted. Move your comma to within your quotation marks please.
Paragraph 13, line 1…remove the comma after walls please…sorry, I know I said I’d leave punctuation errors alone but these two are bugging me too much to let pass.
Paragraph 14…freaking not freeking and in the interest of authenticity you need to replace the word and with the symbol & in Bed Bath and Beyond and add an apostrophe before the s in McDonalds.
And on a side note…have you heard about or read this?
Just how many people do you know that get apple slices for their kids at MickeyD’s read the expiration date on the package? And for that matter, once they have been purchased just how many people hang on to them long enough to then dispose of them as they are being told to do in this voluntary recall? Just another one of those things that make you go hmmmmm I guess.
Paragraph 16…punctuation problems…
Paragraph 18, line 2…in to should be into, one word.
Paragraph 19, line 10…then a sort of an angled ramp…this is so so so very awkward kiddo. And truly hard to read and hold the thread of thought. Please consider rephrasing in some way.
Paragraph 20…I do not believe that pizza rolls is a hyphenated word. I think it is simply two separate words.
And again a side note…I want that. The kitchen that lets you use small appliances without bothering to plug them in. And I definitely want that refrigerator. In fact, if you make me choose only one to have, I think I’ll take the fridge and try for the power free stuff later…hmmm…now that isn’t very green of me is it? But that’s what I’d pick regardless.
Paragraph 24, line 3…please remove the comma after humming.
Paragraph 25…first off I love the mental image of the dangling Christmas ornament six packs! And…
Oh. My. God. LOL. Now I get the dickhead nickname! And so of course I HAD to google the Richard and found this pic that, at least to me, gives positive and conclusive proof that the Richard is NOT a dickhead of your alien dickhead family tree…I see very short and very whispy…definitely not giant. LOL.
Paragraph 32… why did VarnTa the pickle not respond to Rufus’ greeting? The others all did. It seems a bit strange that you did not have him do anything at all, not even acknowledge Rufus. Of course this then does make a person all the more curious about how the pickle communicates or its lack of ability thereof.
Paragraph 33, line 3…little fellow’s egos I believe you are referencing both the Bats are you not? Then it should be little fellows’ with the apostrophe after the s not before it.
Paragraph 33, line 7…Bat’s feudal society…it is not a single Bat’s society is it? If not, then it is all the Bats and it should be Bats’, again with the apostrophe after the s not before it.
Paragraph 34, line 1…reptilian is an adjective and as such can not be made plural. Sorry Charlie. Perhaps reptilian creatures?
Paragraph 34, line 3…again with the apostrophe before the s in McDonalds.
Paragraph 37.…awkkkk…the punctuation…
Paragraph 38, line 1…take out that semicolon please. If you really feel the need for something there try using a full colon if you must but not a semicolon.
Paragraph 39, line 1…take out that semicolon after or please. Do not try to use a full colon here though.
And by the way, that cracked me up…Eenie, Meanie, Mynie, Moe. LOL.
Paragraph 44, line 1…group lifestyle is not a hyphenated word, just two separate words.
So why did you not capitalize the word helpers in Paragraph 25, line 2 when you are capitalizing it here? If they are Helpers then they should always be Helpers. If they are helpers, then they should always be helpers. They should not sometimes be Helpers and sometimes be helpers. Do you understand what I mean?
Paragraph 45, line 2, line 3, and line 4…there you go again…are they helpers or Helpers?
And in some places, like Paragraph 44, line 8 you call them Helper-Friends. You need to pick a phrase and stick with it, be consistent with them. You can safely give them different designations like the Scout-, Hand- and Brain-Friend, but it would really be best if you were consistent and either called them helpers, or Helpers, or Friends or Helper Friends but stop trying to make these all interchangeable.
Paragraph 47…again are they Helpers or what?
Paragraph 48…helper this time…
Paragraph 49…Friend this time…
And still in Paragraph 49…rear legs? Does he have more than one set of legs? You then called what are apparently his front legs his forearms which means they aren’t legs at all so he can’t have rear legs, just legs…or “what on a toad would have been his rear legs.”
Nor can he have back legs when he is reclining on his arms. This really needs cleaned up a bit dear. It really muddies up what is otherwise a really spectacular description of the beastie.
Paragraph 50, line 2… please remove the comma after the first things.
And just a comment here also about your sudden switch from a symbiotic relationship of sorts to a master/slave or owner/service dog minion type relationship in this group lifestyle thingy. You started off describing it as a pretty innocuous, mutually beneficial type deal and it has suddenly taken a sinister turn. Did you mean to do that?
Paragraph 55…excellent should be capitalized.
Paragraph 57…end of the sentence…looks like you have an orphaned bit of typing hanging on at the end there after your period. Elper-FriendH I’d guess it all needs deleted.
Ok. I’m done for now. xox
This may take a while.
Okay… first, thank you.
Warlord is both a title and a name, so do I capitalize ‘the’? It becomes who he is, if you see what I mean.
I play with punctuation and how I type spoken quotes. Partly because the narrator is an alien, and partly to reflect how real …not-particularly-educated people talk. That being said, I am pretty rusty at punctuation, and I wasn’t good at it ever. So thanks.
Freekin’ is actual Berkekely old school slang… it is really closer to F#*%@ng than freakin’, which, where and when I grew up has a very specific meaning of its own…
I am up for suggestions on the ‘angled ramp’ thing… is it just redundant?
Before you pick door number one, ie; the fridge, wait until you read about the toilets on the Hub, because you are so going to want one…
Just to clear it up, Varn Ta is not a pickle. There are the giant flying Pickles. But he is a Stleeb, or Dick-head.
I turned all the Friends into Helper-Friends… lordy, I hope I don’t have to go back and take out all the hyphens… I invented the Helper-Friends…please can I keep the Hyphen? I just thought when they were just helping, as in ‘the little helper’, it would save time to go that way. People would know who I meant.
I fixed the Brain-Helper description, and it does work a lot better.
Orphan typing at end was from the program I typed it up in. It happened when I e-mailed the chapter to my mom and my friends too. But I swear I checked and it wasn’t on the blog yesterday when I posted it. But it is now… or was… so, thanks.
The relationship between the Slugs and their Helper-Friends is complex. It is a primordial instinct thing, but still evolving between intellegent races. They don’t even fully understand it. This will come up later as a conundrum. It worked fine, until outside forces put it under pressure…
So… thanks again. I was sort of hoping that by having you do one comment about my typos for each chapter that it would make it look like there were less of them. I didn’t know how long the comment would end up being. I am going to go back over the chapters one more time as I go, so you do not have so much work to do…but thanks. It is a weird thing to feel so close to someone about whom I know nothing about.
So question…I thought Ox and Warlord were both Xxo creatures/species/beings. I assumed that Ox was the one’s name and Warlord was the other’s name. Am I confused and didn’t know it? Is there a caste within the Xxo that are all warlords, kind of like the samurai? But then do they not have individual names too then? And are all Xxo that are not in the warlord class (if that is in fact what it is) all in a caste/class called Ox and it is not just the individual name of the one introduced to us here. Man, I know this is really, really digging into the meat of your story and that you may not want to reveal all this information yet to the reading public, but it really does make a difference in how the W, w, the, The, no the issue ends up being resolved. I guess you are going to have to tell me a bit more for me to correctly advise you here.
You can play with punctuation up to a certain point but beyond that it is not good for your readers, your story or anything else for that matter. Not particularly well educated people do not ‘talk’ any differently punctuation wise in a written story than well educated people. Real people all ‘talk’ punctuation wise the same way on paper fella…this is a cop out argument and invalid. Don’t go there. It is not a good excuse to say it is because your narrator is an alien either. He is telling the story, yes, and that affects many things about the way it comes across in speech, diction, etc, but it means balls about how it ends up looking on the paper. Punctuation is not for your pleasure or lack there of, it is for your readers and the ease with which they can read, comprehend and enjoy what you have written. It may not make much difference to some people but to many, many others it makes the difference between actually reading something and quitting after a few sentences because it is too much work/trouble, an assault on their senses. You don’t have to be good at punctuation any more than you have to be good at spelling to be a phenomenal writer. But you do have to have someone clean it up for you. In my opinion this is not an issue open for debate or much latitude period. Just saying…
Now freekin’, as a colloquial slang, would be acceptable if that is what you were going for with it. Understood. And while it does ‘look’ different on paper that does not affect it punctuation wise. Get it?
I’m thinking perhaps if you removed the word an before angled ramp that might just smooth it out enough to work. Try it and see what you think.
Varn Ta is not a pickle???? Boy did I get confused! I’m going to have to go back and read the first chapters again…Thanks for setting me straight cause I was rushing headlong down the wrong road there with that one. Lol. And I see that the links I put in amongst my comments did not show up at all. What’s up with that? Is that something WordPress prevents? I’ll have to try to remember that I can’t reference any links in the future then. Maybe I just read the one chapter too late one night and then presumed pickle shaped translated to dickhead nickname and mentally pasted the appendage onto the top of the pickle.
HaHaHaHa! Yes, it seems okay to me to make them all always Helper-Friends and you can keep the hyphen, just as long as you always make them such.
Ox and the Warlord are both Xxos. Ox is Ox’s real name in their own laguage, which is binary and only has xs and os. But it is not pronouced like the human word ‘ox’. Rufus figured out the spelling and thought it was a funny joke to call him that, particularly since Ox is rather ox-like. The Warlord is the only Warlord, as far as all the Xxo are concerned. He earned the title by blood. They never want to have another one. So his title became his name, and visa versa. But that all comes out later. I was going to keep his conditioning a secret, but I thought that would be too confusing.
You totally saw through my bullshit ways of covering my horrible punctuation talents. I am now humbled and ready to accept any advice I can get. It might be easier to do an e-mail thing, so I can print it and then go through the changes. It is a little disheartening to see all my mistakes layed out so plainly. There are just so dang many of them. But that isn’t your fault.
I will try the ramp thing…
The Giant Flying Pickle is the size of a airplane… (even though it is a baby)… and looks just like a pickle.It is a member of a multi-demensional race that creates most intelligent life…(but not humans)… And it was Earth’s first extraterrestrial visitor. Varn Ta just has a big pickle…(that is slang) growing out of his head.
Sorry, I meant to tell you when I ran into you again… (which I guess is now)… that I deleted the links… after I looked at them…awesome…thanks… because I have an old computer that wants to go to blue screen when I hit links, and because it seemed to be slowing my blog down when the links were in there. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.
Yay… I get to keep the hyphen. I loves me my hyphen.
Thank you again for everything.
Well, I didn’t mean to take such a long break and I nearly am having withdrawals…but life is getting in the way at the moment. August and September are notoriously busy months for me and mine I’m afraid. I agree. I think the email idea would be a better fit of sorts for this correspondence. Don’t be afraid…it won’t hurt…lol… Does your old computer handle PDF files? Or is it better with Works documents? It may take me a bit to read your answer and get things going but as they say…I’ll be back…
I have had 3 or 4 blogger friends e-mail me. I think the e-mail address must be in my information somewhere. If you can’t find it, let me know. It is a gmail account.
Wait, is this the Anonymous also known as Someone??? I am so confused. Does someone called Someone need to be so anonymous that they call themselves Anonymous? Is this like a super secret alter identitiy to a top secret under cover code name??? I am not smart enough to figure this out…
Oh… I see… it called you ‘Someone’ in the little drop down comment list, but not in the big comment box list and not in the comments under chapter five. Sorry about my confusion. I panicked because I thought you gave up on me…
I have read this 50 times… my mom read it, 20 friends have read it… how did nobody notice that before you did You have a gift…
I decided I’m only going to read the first chapter then wait for you to actually publish this. Maybe my non-readership will motivate you. I still have to read it. I’ve been busy, but I promise to at least read the beginning. Who knows, maybe I’ll get hooked.
Like a bass…
My daughter, who is smarter than both of us, says that if you self publish on that sight, you can’t get it published by a big publisher afterwards. Maybe we both need to look into that. Because it sounded like a cool idea to me.
True but it’s also pretty hard to get published by a big publisher. I think of things like that with ideas. If someone steals my idea I don’t get mad. I get a new one. If I screwed up by publishing this book too early I have a bank in my head many other ideas. If you publish one book online and it becomes a hit then the big publishers will actually be interested in you, not the other way around. Don’t hold yourself back.
That is what I am trying to do here…
“I before we, except after me”, BRILLIANT!
The paragraphs about the helper friends have two similar sentences describing the second and last friends “This being was…” and “This was the…” It might flow better to replace one with a simple declarative sentence.
I love this story and after the professor I am quite fond of the empathic Qualm, cracks me up every time.
Rufus is pretty funny.
Yay. I will go back and focus on the little changes. I am hoping to get an idea of the flow and character building. But the little observations help. I might actually take a creative writing class… even though it goes against everything I stand for to learn how to do anything… to get some editing advice from a ‘professional’…
I don’t think you need a creative writing class but I do think you might learn some tricks that could prove useful in the future.
I truly love this story and as I read along I find myself admiring the description, just right!
Chapter 5 is the funniest one yet.
One more chapter tomorrow, describing some aliens, and then BOOM… it is going to start getting crazy.