The Grass Is Always Yellow on Promaglyon 3

Union

Chapter Four.

Max woke up in a cold sweat under the two blue moons of Promaglyon 3. It was designated 3 not because of it being the third of its kind, but as it was believed to have been sneezed out by the neighboring black hole in the third month, (the month of harvest, lung cancer, and tuna fish), of the people who now inhabited it. After lunch, Alpha had hid Max under her hoverdesk while she worked on the engineering grid of the latest model of pentaskis, the alternative to duoskis used by most of the human customers of skiverse.

The primordial beings who inhabited Promaglyon 3 possessed five operative legs, and a sixth leg that drooped uselessly over their eyes and sometimes into their food. Humankind did not wish to appear as though they were purposefully ignoring the existence of Promaglyoid-kind by not manufacturing skis for them, even though, the poor creatures, being quite blind and also top-heavy, were near-incapable of skiing, so they had released the pentaskis onto the very grateful masses of promaglyoids, who found use for them as rakes for spring leaves.

Alpha had taken Max, via transhuttle to her quarters on the North Sector of Promaglyon, where half of Earth's former population now resided due to overcrowding. With a suitable transhuttle, the commute to and from Earth could be made in a mere fifteen minutes, despite the six-thousand space-kilometre difference. The entire planet was a dusted, faded yellow, like that of old photographs. Alpha lived in a comfortably sized biopod, overlooking a stalagmite field rich in spidercotton. Not knowing what to do with Max, Alpha had simply decided to marry him. She was old enough, pretty enough, and she deserved a man/plant/being to spend the rest of her life with by now. Smearing plasma gel across his forehead and feeding him bog-rice out of a leaf, she told him her name.

"Ljubljana??" Asked Max incredulously.

"Yes." Her eyes sparkled with the excitement of her wedding day.

"Isn't that the capital of Slovenia?"

"I believe it was once, now it is it's own country. The Metropolis of Earthkind, as it is known.

Max stared in awe of this strange news. Max's grandmother was born in Slovenia. She was pear-shaped, hot-tempered, and wielded a large rolling pin, though Max had only ever known her to make cookies with it. Little did he know, she was actually an alien, and her rolling pin was the equivalent of a modern-day smartphone, though the only music it was capable of playing was grocery store jingles.

"Don't I have to be family to know your name?"

"Of course. And now that you are my husband, oughtn't I to know yours?"

"Wait, what???"

Alpha/Ljubljana hadn't bothered to explain to Max that what he thought was a very fancy pre-dinner ritual was, in fact, a series of prenuptial agreements stating that, if the couple were to spawn, their product would be equally raised by both parents, and if popcorn was purchased, there must be as much as Alpha/Ljubljana desired.

"We are married now. The ritual is complete," said Alpha/Ljubljana, her voice ending in a high whisper of excitement.

Max took her to bed.