My
Journal
By
Harriman Nelson
9
I
could tell that Jiggs was a bit put out that I'd insisted we use a taxi to to
take us to the White House. He was
probably looking forward to a shiny government vehicle with a police escort, but I had sure had enough of that,
thank you very much.
And as
promised, I’d called that friendly first cabbie for the ride. His eyes
were big as saucers as we saw the spaceship’s
shuttle (the captain must have returned) on our approach to the gate. Once there, I added a hefty tip to the fare.(Nelson’s
always tip generously). As I got
out of the vehicle with my companions at the gate, we were hissed at, literally, by some protesters, which outnumbered the
simply curious.
Told
you we should have accepted a limo in the first place,” Jiggs huffed, while the irritating ‘ hell no,
make them go’, ‘traitors to humanity’ cat calls lingered behind us as we walked the short distance to the
portico, escorted by some agents covering our backs.
At least no rotten tomatoes were tossed.
I recognized the chief steward from the
videophone call with Lee, waiting for us. He was impressive with his White House dinner uniform and service badges.
“Sir,”
he said, bowing slightly to me and nodding to Jiggs and Joe, probably not having
the slightest idea of their military standing, which was the general idea for tonight,
after all. As we trod through one
corridor after another, he asked us if we’d care to join ‘Miss Melody, Lt.
Numbers, and Captain 'Al' (which most staff were now calling him, short for Alien) for cocktails before dinner.
“Er,
yes, thank you,” I replied for the three of us, then leaned over and whispered. “Lt.
'Numbers'? Captain Al?”
“Yes,
sir. The president was weary of just calling them by there numerical names. So the nicknames. They're not offended at
all."
“I
see.”
“I don’t think the
president could think of anything more appropriate for either of them.”
It
wasn’t long before we found ourselves in one of the rooms, boasting a bar (with
a staff bartender in attendance), leather chairs and an unlit fireplace.
“Ad-mir-ral
Nel-son,” Melody said, seeing me, approaching, holding a cocktail of…something.
She was wearing a shimmering floor length pink gown which suited her bluish
complexion and pink hair.
“Good
evening Miss Melody. May I introduce Jiggs Starke, and Joe Jackson,” avoiding
any mention of rank.
She
smiled at them sweetly.
“And
may I in-tr-oduce Lt. Num-bers, and Captain Al, as your people have named him. Short for 'Alien' I believe, ” she giggled.
"Your names for us are amusing."
The males
were garbed in what looked like a form of alien dress uniform. Highly polished
metal bands adorned the almost ancient Roman style of short tunics and chest plates decorated
with jewels of some sort.
The
captain and Lt. nodded politely.
Neither
had a drink in their hands.
“We
would sample your al…al-co-hol-ic beverages,” the captain explained, “but it is
best we keep our…our wits a-bout us tonight. As a military man, you can
un-der-stand. Yes, we know what you all are. But feel free to sample our…Mur,” he added, indicating the
flasks on the bar that they must have brought from his spaceship.
Melody
nodded to the bartender to pour some out for me.
“It
will only in…in-e-bri-ate if one has too
much.”
“Same
as our stuff,” Jiggs said. “Gin, with ice,” he added to the bartender. “How
about you, Jackson? Which galaxy would you like to drink from tonight?”
“I’ll
pass on both.”
I took
a sip of the alien booze.
“Delightful,”
I lied, raising my glass. It tasted a little
similar to Grecian Ozo, but also like you'd expect fermented frogs to tastes like.
“Ad-mi-ral,”
Captain 'Al' asked, interrupting my musing, “you have assisted the com…comm-i-tee.
Can Earth ac-com-o-date our request?”
“We
still have a lot to test and consider before we know for sure.”
“Under-stood,”
he said and returned to examine a vase of flowers. I could hear them speaking in undertones with their metallic clicks and
grunts.
The
mantle clock above the fireplace ticked away. Where the hell was Lee?
“Any
ill effects?” Jiggs whispered to me.
“Only
to my taste buds,” I whispered back.
“Ah,
finally,” he said as Lee appeared.
Lee
was, as promised, in a white tuxedo, similar to mine, only he had a ruffled shirt and his
cummerbund was red. He also had a red carnation. I was surprised he hadn’t worn
the eye patch. But perhaps he chose not to in order for his prosthesis
eyeball’s iris to be color coordinated.
“Good
evening,” Lee said, “sorry to keep you waiting. “Good to see you again. Captain Al? Lt. Numbers told me
you brought along some what is it you call it, …’Mur’?
I’ll have mine with dinner. Speaking of which,”
he added, rubbing his hands and extending his arm to Melody, “shall we? Buffet
style. So we can all serve ourselves. I hope you’ll like the green bean
casserole. Nothing special but one of my favorites.”
Lee
and Melody led our group to the family dining room. The aliens pushed their
way
past Jiggs and me to follow right behind them. I had to admit to myself I felt a bit
put out. But this was more a ‘family dinner’ than a state affair, so I'd better forget about protocol.
Besides, technically, as VIP's of a sort, they did have precedence.
The
family dining room was bigger and more well
appointed than I’d have thought it would be. On one of the antique buffet tables, there was
a cornucopia of favorite American dishes. Far more than a party of six could
possibly consume. But perhaps the chef had insisted, hoping to show off, even if some of the dishes would hardly be served
to most White House guests.
In
addition to the cheese and fruit platter, there was Indian Corn Pudding and the
aforementioned Green Bean Casserole. Also Roast Beef, Asparagus with
Hollandaise Sauce and Roast Turkey with dressing and gravy. Jellied Cranberry Sauce (Lee must have insisted), Cranberry Salad
with Marshmallows and Fruit Cocktail (again, Lee must have pressured the chef to make the grandmotherly dish). There
were also raw
oysters and tail on Shrimp. And for dessert, apple pie and chocolate brownies.
I
could only imagine what Chip, stuck minding the Seaview, would think of the menu. Probably drool all over the deck. That
is
until I saw the alien fare.
The pastel
food disks looked harmless enough, but the live worms and a chartreuse mush of some sort didn't look too appetizing.
Lee
and Melody selected a few different items from each other’s planets to begin
with and we all followed suit to be polite.
“Er,”
Lee began after we were all seated, he at the head of the table, Melody on his
right, the captain on his left, “it’s a custom of many of us to thank God for
our blessings…”
“What
is G-od?” the captain asked.
“How
do I explain. He who created us, and the universe.”
“Ah,
the Great Spirit. Yes. Let us give thanks for our being…alive.”
“And
fed,” Starke said.
I
can’t say that I actually prayed when our heads were bowed. I spent most of the
few seconds sneaking looks at the aliens, and they, I noticed, doing the same toward
Lee. Only Lee, Melody and Joe seemed to
actually praying or meditating or thinking.
After the
moment of silence, Melody took one of the worms off Lee’s plate with her
fingers and fed it to him, giggling. In return, he took a spear of asparagus
off of hers and did likewise to her.
I
wasn’t the only one with a raised eyebrow at that little act of intimacy. In
fact, I could see her father’s veins throbbing on one side of his protruding
forehead. On both sides of the Lt.'s
Lee
and Melody had considered the flavors in their mouths, but as much as they
wanted to continue chewing and swallow politely, neither made it, quickly disposing
their mouthfuls into their napkins.
“I’m
sorry,” both said to each other at the same time, apologetic and embarrassed. But Melody began
to giggle, followed by Lee and soon the couple had dissolved into hearty
laughter.
“Perhaps
this wasn’t such a good idea,” Lee finally said. “I’ll order more apples and
brownies. Melody and Numbers already tried them earlier. No problem with those."
“A
dinner of both worlds was a dip-lo-mat-ic idea,” Melody’s father said. “I will
sam-ple…more.”
“As we
all will,” I said, but none of us, save the aliens tried any of the worms. We
managed to be diplomatic with the mush and food disks. Followed by glasses of
Mur. And the aliens managed to consume a little of the green bean casserole and
corn pudding followed by both cranberry dishes, which of those foods tried, they liked.
They
had said no to the meats, being vegetarian, we found out.
Our
duty to sharing done, we gratefully resorted to consume the foods of our own worlds.
I
couldn’t help noticing as the meal progressed that Melody had been acting a bit
motherly to Lee, wiping his mouth with his new napkin on occasion, especially
when he spilled some more Mur on himself, but he hadn’t looked bothered about
it. He wasn’t bothered about anything.
“Powerful
stuff that Mur,” Jiggs said.
“My
daughter did warn him,” Captain 'Al' said, "would it be im-po-lite to take my
leave now?”
“No
problem,” Jiggs said, “I’ll escort you out.”
“Nel-son, will
you give the pres-i-dent my thanks for an…in-ter-est-ing evening?”
“Of
course,” I said.
He
added something in his own metallic tones to Melody who barely acknowledged
him. Apparently she was finding it more appealing to run her hand through Lee’s
hair and sing to him.
“She
has also had too much Mur,” he said shaking his head. “I apologize for her
silliness. Tell her that she will return to my ship tomorrow, before she
embarrasses us further. I will go now. The Lt. will remain now that he has a better grasp of
your language. We assimilate knowledge quickly.”
“Of
course, Captain,” I said with a slight bow of the head.
I
suppose the White House staff was used to inebriated guests, and perhaps even
presidents at times, but I knew the shit was going to hit the fan if the press
got wind of this. So I did the only thing I could.
I lied
to the staff, some of whom were waiting just outside the dining room doors,
telling them that the president felt ill and that Mr. Starke and I would take
care of him, if they’d just point the way to his bedroom.
"Lt.," I said, "I'll leave taking
care of Miss Melody to you."
"As
you wish."
One
lie down, another to go, I thought to myself as Joe and I put Lee to bed. He
was barely conscious and singing La La’s from the tune he'd shared with Melody. I was glad he hadn't exactly shared
where that tune had come from, especially since he'd learned the coded message from a beautiful secret agent.
I’d seen Lee drunk before but not like this.
“I’ll
sit up with him,” I told Joe. “You go see how Melody’s doing. Though I’m sure the
Lt. is handling it.”
It
wasn’t long before both Joe and Jiggs returned.
“Our
guest safely away?”
“Yes," Jiggs said.
"You'll be glad to know," Joe said,
"that the Lt. asked the
staffers for a female to assist Melody to bed.”
“Lee’s going to be
devastated about this evening.”
“Price
one has to pay for a moment of indiscretion. I’m surprised," Joe said. "He knew the
stuff was dynamite…for awhile I thought he was faking drinking the stuff. An
old spy trick…but…I guess it got the better of him…want me to call a cab
for us now?”
“Not
for me. You and Jiggs go ahead.”
“There’s
nothing you can do for him right now," Jiggs said.
“What I can do, old friend, is to be here for him when we wakes up.”
“He
doesn’t need a nursemaid.”
“No,
but he will need a friend when he remembers or what happened
tonight.”
“Well,
be sure you’re out of the line of fire.”
I
laughed as Jiggs gave me a mock salute and left along with Joe.
“Har..Harry?”
Lee called and hiccupped. “She….soooo…sweet….sooo sweet…”
“Yes,
son, Melody is a delightful girl.”
“She's a melody…La
la la, la la lah…La…”
“Lee…Lee,
no need to sing now…go to sleep…”
“Sleeeep…”
“That’s
right, sleep,” I said gently and twisted the prostheses out of its socket, and
looked around for the glass jar of cleaning solvent, only to find it handed to
me by Edwards who must have come in while I wasn't too observant.
“Thanks,”
I said and deposited it the jar with barely a splash. "You
didn’t see this, Edward,” I said.
“No need to tell me that
he's...ill, sir. From something he ate.”
“Ours
or theirs?” I asked, in full conspiracy.
“Better
make it ours,” I said. “We don’t want to scare the public with alien food and drink.”
And so I squirmed in my chair
and dimmed the light,
keeping an eye on Lee as he drifted off into his slumbers.
I had
to wonder just what kind of hangover he’d have tomorrow. And if
there was a cure for it.