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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Sci-fi · #2070936
Zorhahn decides to buy a new spaceship.

The spaceship landed with a heavy thud.  As it did, it knocked a Mason jar of Diomedian scarlet moss off of a small table beneath the pergola.  Mrs. Zorhahn opened the window shutter to peek out, flung a dishcloth into the sink and fumed.  She felt her stomach churn, and her three eyes darted in three different directions as she bolted out the door.

“Zorhahn!”

Zorhahn popped the hatch and climbed out of the ship.

Bouncing over to Mrs. Zorhahn, he grumbled:

“It’s not my fault.  I’ve had this ship in for brake-work three times in the last two months, and these gravity brakes still aren’t right!  Shizfo!”

“Zorhahn, watch your language!  The children might hear you.”

Zorhahn’s pale green face began to turn pink.

“See, see what happens!  You be careful of your oil pressure, you know what the doctor told you!”

“I’m sorry about your moss, dear.”

Mrs. Zorhahn went over and picked up the jar.  Zorhahn bounced toward the sliding door, gray puffs alternating from each ear.

“Zorhahn...”

“Where’s the phone book, dear?  In the last slide?”

“Yes, who are you going to call?”

“I’m going to call the Better Spaceship Bureau and report Triton’s Tires.”

Some moss had stuck to Mrs. Zorhahn’s nose, and she was flapping all fifteen doubins of it as she approached Zorhahn.

“You should never have taken it there in the first place.  What’d they soak you for last time?  Nine hundred soldars?”

Zorhahn didn’t respond, but just went in and sat at the kitchen table.  Mrs. Zorhahn traversed the kitchen, disappearing around the crystal-coiled stairwell on her way to wash her hands.  When she returned, Zorhahn was at the laptop, playing chess.

“I thought you were going to call the BSB?”

“I will, dear, in a minute, but I want to make my move first.”

Mrs. Zorhahn peered over his shoulder, adjusted her glasses, and surveyed the chess position.  She asked who the opponent was.

“He’s from Ganymede, and his screen name is, “Lightning Bug.”

“Oh, do they have fireflies on Ganymede?  Mrs. Zorhahn asked.

“I don’t know,” Zorhahn replied.  “Maybe he just likes them.  I sure remember them, though, when I visited Earth five years ago.  It’d be nice if we had those little lightning bugs here!”

“Uh huh,” Mrs. Zorhnahn lowed.

“Look at that!”  Zorhahn blurted,  I’ve just forked his queen and rook!”


Three hours later...

Mrs. Zorhahn came back into the kitchen to find Zorhahn perusing a 2016 spaceship promotional ad.  Zorhahn put it down and looked at her:

“Look sweetie, I’m tired of knocking myself out trying to keep that old spaceship space-worthy--it’s time for a new one. Look here...”

He handed her the ad.

“You see that one there, the gray one?”

“Oh, Zorhahn, it’s beautiful!”

She no more than said it when two of her three eyes narrowed, and they looked downward.

Zorhahn got up and lightly grasped her shoulders.

“I know, dear, you’ll miss the old one.”

She nodded as he went on.

“I’ll miss it too, because we have a lot of good memories in that ship.  And you know honey, the ovals, everything about it was ovals...that was the last year of the oval design.”

“I’ll miss the red color, too,” Mrs. Zorhahn said is a low whisper.

Then all three eyes focused right on him:

“But you are right, Zorhahn, that ship has seen its day, and now it’s nothing more than a soldar pit.”

"Yeah, and those damn brakes!"  Zorhahn griped.

Zorhahn straightened up.

“Well, then, I think I’ll go see Dale tomorrow over at the Jupiter Dealership, across the district line.”

Mrs. Zorhahn tilted her head.

“But why go way over there, Zorhahn?  We have a dealer in this district, not more than six metrons from here?”

“Because I know Dale, and I like Dale: he’s very laid back--no high sales pressure.  Once, years ago, he let me take a ship for a test flight, and he let me pick the space-lanes.  I even flew past that asteroid where they make cheese.”

Mrs. Zorhahn winked one eye.


Three days later...

Zorhahn had just finished washing his new ship and was drying it with a beach towel.  Mrs. Zorhahn was tending her moss beneath the pergola.  It was a beautiful day.  Just then, Zemo, who was just ten and who lived two units down, bounded onto the pad-way, full of life.  He made a fuss over the new ship, and Zorhahn was more than eager to show him things, both inside and out.  Zemo’s eyes got as big as saucers when he saw all the fancy controls, the dials, the six-speaker stereo system, and even the GPS that was included. Zorhahn puffed out his chest at that point, telling Zemo that not all new ships had a galaxy positioning system.

Zemo was one big grin.  But before he left, he looked over and saw this long red lever.  And with the curiosity of a ten-year-old, he asked, "What does this do?"

Zorhahn smiled.  With his face full of joy and his three eyes wide with pride, he answered:

“That applies the brakes!”


853 Words
Writer’s Cramp
1-6-16
______

Requirements:
--Mason jar
--shutter
--churn
--glasses
--fireflies
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