Doggerel

The Deal

Written for the Aphelion-webzine August 2012 Flash Challenge.  The challenge was to write a tale of one or more present-day humans attempting to conduct a business transaction with an alien or beings from another time. WARNING: Mild innuendo.

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I never thought I’d meet an alien. I mean an honest to goodness, extraterrestrial. And I never would’ve imagined that this alien would come in the form of a smoking hot brunette. I mean, I knew about the aliens – who doesn’t? When the Geeks at that place in Europe with the big collider thing created the first superluminal doo-hickies, it was like a big beacon to the universe letting the aliens know we were here. Ten minutes later, the first alien materialised in the control room and politely asked them to turn the volume down. Apparently, our broadcast was like all caps on Twitter. Aliens are all multi-dimensional and whatever. Space ships, ray guns. Forget that. In fact, real disappointing. Aliens look like whatever they want – animals, cars, trees, mostly they manifest as humans.

Anyway, they kind of popped in to say hello, welcome to the multi-verse, here are the rules of etiquette: Rule one – no shouting in the superluminal ether. After that aliens started dropping by quite often, you know, consulting with the big wigs, presidents, captains of industry.

So, I was blown away when I opened the door that morning and found a real, live alien standing there. A smoking hot alien.

“Hello, Mr Carter. My name is Lilith Cambion and I should declare that I am an extraterrestrial. I have come to you today with an exciting, once in a lifetime opportunity.”

I said she was smoking hot, right? Let me tell you, she had that sexy librarian thing going on. Dark, luxurious tresses piled up in a complicated do, dark rimmed glasses, real nerdy but so… you know, right? Her figure? Oh, man! Take every Playboy centerfold you’ve ever seen and just throw them away. She was wearing one of those silky blouse things, nice and tight, buttons straining kind of affair. And a super-narrow, figure hugging skirt to her knees that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I just stood there and gaped.

You’re thinking, I should’ve known it was some kind of con, right? I mean, it was a classic used car opener. But, she was just so freaking sexy, it was hard to even think straight.

She made a polite cough and I realised that I had been staring at her for way too long.

“May I come in?”, she asked.

“Sure.”

My place was a mess. There were dirty plates with take-out on the coffee table, so old it was making a bid for sentience. I moved a dirty sock from the cleanest spot on the sofa and waved her to sit down. What can I say? Bachelor pad, you know.

“So, Miss Cambion…”

“Please, call me Lil.”

“Lil. You said something about an opportunity?”

“Yes, that’s right, Adam. May I call you Adam?”

“Sure.”

“Well, Adam, I would like to purchase your immortal soul, and in exchange I will give you your hearts desire.”

I know it sounds real corny like that, but the way she said it, the look in her eyes, the little seductive half smile she had on her lips. I didn’t know whether to laugh or, you know, whatever.

“My what?”

“Look, I understand that humans don’t generally believe that they have an immortal soul anymore but, on my plane of existence, it’s a commodity of real value and I’m willing to give you anything you ask for in exchange.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“A billion dollars?”

“Do you want a billion dollars?”

“Wait! I’m still thinking about it.”

“You’re a shrewd negotiator, I can tell, Adam.”

She touched my knee when she said that. It sent a shock right through me, like a little spark of joy. She was sitting forward on the sofa. Her knees were pressed together but I could see a little thigh, and her blouse was really Goddamn tight. I started thinking maybe this was some candid camera type thing. You know, some kind of practical joke.

“Say, how do I know you’re really an alien?”

“Oh, well. Can a human do this?”

She clicked her fingers and a large wad of papers and a genuine, real-feather, quill pen materialised on the coffee table in front of her.

“This is a standard contract for your immortal soul. Once we settle on the details, I just need you to sign it, in blood, and that’s it.” She gave me this thousand megawatt smile. It was so bright, it could’ve made a blind man weep.

“This is getting a little too biblical, here,” I said.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve been to Earth. We used to visit, oh, such a long time ago, before there were trade limitations against dealing with primitive societies. I wouldn’t believe all that stuff. It was mostly just bad press, sour grapes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, what’s it going to be, Adam. What do you want for your soul?”

“A billion dollars and I want to be famous, like, on TV. And I want a Ferrari and, er…”

“Yes, Adam?”

“You.”

Hey, I’m just a man and she was a smoking hot, sexy, librarian, alien woman. Like she said, once in a lifetime opportunity.

“You want this body?” She had such a dirty look on her face, her voice all low and husky. I swear, I nearly passed out from sudden blood loss when it all went, you know, down there.

“Yes,” I said.

“Done.” She pricked my finger with the sharp tip of the quill. “Just sign on the dotted line.”

And that’s how I became a smoking hot brunette. You know, a woman. The book deal, movie rights and TV appearances are making me a fortune. The Ferrari’s on order. It wasn’t the deal I had in mind but it’s still, kind of, almost, mostly okay.

Of course, I worry about my immortal soul.

Why do aliens have to be so Goddamned literal?