The Underground

We were dancing like nova-stars at an underground sock-hop. It was a packed discothèque filled with many different beings from many different galaxies. Everyone was having fun. There were multi-armed Yandas waving their long thin arms around their tiny bald heads as the disco-lights spun faster and faster and scantly clad Tulanexus girls with their enormously erect penises dancing in wire cages high above the undulating dance floor.

I danced by myself near the table where my buddy, Gordo, remained seated, watching me with a scowl on his long face.

I was doing some moves out there, some spins, some hip-thrusting, all different techniques I was making up as I went along. I let myself loose. The music was banging out a sort of zippy, electrical mandolin Baroque. I was a little over-served, I don’t deny it, but I was also getting some serious attention from a long tongued Lominia gal who couldn't take her three eyes off me.

The Gardinians were also watching me with their pointed ears wiggling, which is how Gardinians laugh, and I was laughing along with them in my human way. The Meriditions were pointing at me and I was pointing right back. All of it happy. The Meriditions don’t have thumbs, per se, but I believe when they like something, they point with the one long finger on their right tentacle . I took all this pointing as the Meridition version of a “Thumbs-up”.

“Charlie!” Gordo said, screaming into my ear, “Will you sit the hell down! These people aren't your friends"

“Gordo man, relax!” I said, and did a triple spin that led to an ear-wiggling extravaganza across the floor.

I finally left at Gordo’s insistence, with, I might add, a certain long tongued Lominia gal’s personal quadrant number in my back pocket.

-295 Words-