"The Origin of the Species"

Choopitar had never noticed the intrinsic beauty of tentacles before. There was much he hadn’t noticed about the slimy, squat Anchelos before now. But this one was different. The short hair that enveloped his body stood on end when she glanced in his direction. There was something entrancing about the puke green eyes hooded by small rolls of tightly bunched blubber. A Taemoni, he knew he shouldn’t be attracted to an Anchelos. But he was.

No one knew exactly why the Taemoni and the Anchelos disliked each other. Some of the cruder Taemoni thought that Anchelos had evolved from Leafy Bollobs and were mere intelligent versions of an edible plant. The hostile Anchelos, on the other hand, thought that the Taemoni had been put on the planet Nebo by some higher power as punishment for some ancient sin. It could have something to do with years of civil prejudice, or something simpler, like the fur Taemoni shed causing widespread allergic reactions to their more squishy neighbors.

Reality, of course, agreed with neither theory. It had a stubborn streak, and would never allow a petty myth to come near to the truth. The fact is, relations between the two races were once as harmonious as a well-tuned Frak-knocker. This was before the dreaded union between Üpthi and Narla, a Taemoni and an Anchelos. No one knows how they did it, considering the Taemoni were like tall, refined felines that somehow had learned how to walk erect while the Anchelos were your typical smash of bubbled mucus punctuated with small beady eyes and lump-like limbs. But they somehow figured it out, and mixed the seemingly unintermingleable races. Questions regarding the offspring of this unnatural union, however, remained unanswered as Narla was promptly boiled in a stew and Üpthi was skinned and quartered. At this point, arguments about who was at fault and how Anchelos stew should be properly spiced initiated a surge of inter-racial feuds.

Choopitar walked briskly, entertaining secret fantasies about the planty, mucus-like thing that had so recently captured his mind. She had the most delicious name—Veenos. It jumped up and down in his brain like jampuddy on hypertag.
The next day, he approached her, rather dashingly, of course. He cleared his throat respectfully three or four times until she shifted to look at him, her slimy pupils shrinking at a unimaginable rate.

“Excuse me, Miss, but I—” that’s as far as he got before he noticed the rankly attractive odour wafting toward his properly groomed nose hair. It was like a mix of rotten egg and a cornucopia of decaying animal parts. This happened to be the natural defense mechanism of the Anchelos. He tried again.

“Excuse me, Miss, but I was wondering if you would pleasure me with your company at lunch this afternoon.” He paused, breathing in the heavenly scent of some slug-like hormones. Veenos looked skeptical. “I know this is unusual, but I desire to speak with you. Perhaps over a cup of Zlarken coffee?”

She looked at him. He looked at her. Veenos realized, with a jolt, that she admired his close together eyes, faintly clawed hands, even his slightly deformed leg that was half a centimeter shorter than the other. All Choopitar could think of was how one of her rolls of fat looked like the Anglcam constellation he gazed at every night.

She finally responded. “But I’m an Achelos and you’re a, well, a Ta—”

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t know why, but I feel drawn towards you, more strongly than wild Teetoltorses pull a Sifflestake out of the ground. I feel that you carry for me a connection between my own mundane existence and a celestial life of bliss.”

Choopitar’s passion nearly dried out Veenos’ skin (a common Anchelotic reaction to powerful emotions). “Somehow, all the lies I’ve heard about your race seem hollow. Yes, I will be your connection, but I don’t want for this to be the connection between us and the grave. No one can know.”

“Of course, my dear. I will go to any lengths for you. You fill this desert of mine with life the way no Taemoni could.” Veenos was dryer then a sponge left in the Suntafier hotbox for three millennia.

The suddenness of this love affair may seem strange to a curious observer, but on Nebo this was normal, as both races tended to develop relationships quite quickly. This probably had something to do with the vast amount of hormones they excreted, which, romantic interest unavailable, they often used as fertilizer in their fields.
Their love sprouted like the proverbial vegetable. The obstacles standing in their way to happiness failed to dampen their spirits. Perhaps it should have.

It was during a pleasant meal under Alfgani starlight that Choopitar noticed something was out of place. Veenos was gaining some unusual weight. Choopitar, of course, didn’t mind heavyset females, as already established by his remarkable track record, but this extra fat seemed out of place somehow. Veenos noticed his glances and turned a dark shade of yellow.

“What’s wrong, my dear?”

“I-I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

“Told me what, my little heaven-smash?”

“I’m going to have a baby.”

A baby! Euphoric nightmare! Joyful sorrow! They would have to leave. The meal ended abruptly as Choopitar gently took Veenos to his Starblock, Spiritus, an intergalactic motor home, of sorts. Of course on Nebo, motor homes faintly resembled small factories.

The biggest problem was not the legality of the situation, but rather the infant that was due to explode out of Veenos’ increasingly swollen belly. The only option was to create a safe haven on another planet. People would certainly ask questions about a bizarre hybrid wandering around Nebo, and they probably wouldn’t stop at just asking questions.

Days of scouring the far reaches of the galaxy found Veenos practically bursting with child, but no habitable planets were to be found. It was five days before Choopitar finally found the right solar system. The light! It beckoned forth from the radiant sun, inviting the improvised family to come.

“Choopitar! It’s coming!” Veenos spasmed on the makeshift bedding behind Choopitar.

“Hold it, my dear squishtish! I’m trying to find a place to land!” Unattended, Spiritus would flail out of control due to solar wind. .

Spiritus hit the atmosphere, warping Veenos’ cries. Choopitar’s face dropped. The planet had deceived them. There was nothing but tumultuous oceans and heaving volcanoes, an uninhabitable soup. Spiritus hovered over the waters as Choopitar desperately sought a place to land. He looked back and could already see a round sphere of child poking out of his wife’s stomach. It was a queer sight; a fleshy orb peppered with bizarre holes and abnormal bits of skin.

“I’m almost there!” Dawn was breaking on the sixth and last day of Veenos’ pregnancy. Although the land was barren for the most part, Choopitar saw far off in the distance an oasis of calm assurance nestled between two rivers. Calm, of course, was something very much lacking on board the ship. The next shriek forced out the midsection of this outlandish infant. A bulbous blob, it bore a significant resemblance to its mother. Except, of course, for the bizarre protuberances sticking out of it at odd angles. That was something new.

“I’m coming in for a landing! You can make it, darling!” He guided the Starblock into a perfect three-point landing, avoiding significant damage to either of his squishy co-inhabitants.

A very distinct pop met Choopitar’s ears, and a quick glance confirmed his suspicions. Veenos carefully cradled the new creation in her pudgy tentacles. There was no possible way of determining the sex of the child, and Choopitar decided arbitrarily that it would be a boy. If it wasn’t, well, he’d soon grow into the role. He opened the airlock and introduced his family to the new world.

They stepped off the craft. Creatures filled the place, soaring through the skies and roaming the plains. One of the larger animals trundled toward them.

“Alaphan!” the ugly lump in Veenos’ arms squealed. It could talk! The parents smiled.
“I think he’ll be safe here. What is it my dear?” He noticed Veenos had fixated her gaze in a particular direction.

Veenos pointed. “There’s something about that tree that bothers me. Do you think you could cut it down? It looks diseased and something’s crawling around in it.”
“Oh don’t worry about that. He’ll be fine.” Veenos collapsed into the dirt. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” She was once more writhing in the dust, another odd sphere bulging from her paunch. The second time was longer and more painful than the first.

Fortunately, the first child slept peacefully, allowing Choopitar to fully concentrate on this second hideous miracle. Now there were two. The second one would be a woman, once again an arbitrary decision.

The couple rested for a day, acquainting themselves with what would become their children’s new home. They saw that this planet was good. But all good things must end.

“We have to leave, my little Lard-nugget. This is their world.” Choopitar’s solemn voice broke into Veenos’ sentiments as she watched the children play.

“Are you sure they’ll be okay?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll always be watching, always ready to help if need be.”
She nodded. “Let’s name them first.”

“Alright. I was thinking. Atam and Eev.”

"The Origin of the Species"


Joined January 2008

  • Artist

Artist's Description

Wrote this in my creative writing class. Ya it’s amateur but hey, I liked it. I was trying to mimic the style of Douglas Adams. If you’re a fan of his, please tell me if i succeeded or not. Oh, and look for the symbolism.

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