THE ABCs OF A PECULIAR LIFE // O is for Obduracy & Orgasmic Oranges

The Soviet Astronaut had been mooning around the Moon since the late 70s. He’d been launched into outer space as part of a secret Soviet crewed lunar program with the express purpose of stealing the star-spangled banner from the Moon’s surface.

This Soviet crewed lunar program was so secret that the Soviet Government issued a special decree banning anyone involved from keeping any documentation of its aims and research results. Everyone who knew of the mission did what they were told and forgot everything immediately upon the Soviet Astronaut’s departure from Earth. Including the Soviet Astronaut himself. Back then, Soviet citizens were very responsible, making sure to execute Government decrees to a meticulous tee. Those were the days!

This is why when the Soviet Astronaut contacted a dispatcher at the launch control center (in order to familiarize himself with the details of his mission), the dispatcher was completely flummoxed. But, of course, the dispatcher was very experienced and up to the task. He told the Soviet Astronaut to continue his mission, to control the situation in outer space, and to report any suspicious objects that he might encounter. After this, the dispatcher disconnected from the server and the Soviet Astronaut was on his own.

One unspecified day, everything was going as planned. The Soviet Astronaut woke up, brushed his teeth, did his morning exercises, and then took position near a side-viewing window. He was keeping abreast of the situation, making copious notes in a flight log book. To be honest, it wasn’t very interesting. Nothing had changed outside the window for the last few months. The Moon, the stars and a withered space mosquito that had gotten stuck to the glass upon the vessel’s launch.

Sheer boredom drove the Soviet Astronaut to half watch a TV series on one of the vessel’s many small monitors. The space radio antenna had picked up the signal somewhere over the ocean. Ironically, it was a science fiction show about extraterrestrial beings, a time traveler, and his space adventures. Though the Soviet Astronaut didn’t understand a word, the show itself was pretty amusing. He especially liked the time machine that was masked as a blue British police box.

Everything had been going well when suddenly something bumped the vessel’s tail. The unexpected loudness of the sound made the Soviet Astronaut somersault in the air, but when he reached an operating panel everything looked as always did. He calmed himself down and was soon back to the show, engrossed and unaware that the vessel’s trajectory had changed by half a degree.

The next morning started as it always did. The Soviet Astronaut woke up, brushed his teeth, did his morning exercises and… what the deuce?! He almost bumped his brow on the window looking left, right, up and even a bit down.

The Moon was absent.

He tightly closed his eyes, then opened them and looked at the window again. The position of the stars appeared to be normal, and the withered space mosquito was present too, but the Moon was absent. It was completely gone. The Soviet Astronaut thought a bit and pinched himself, but this didn’t help. Alas, he wasn’t still asleep and it wasn’t just a bad dream.

There was background noise on the monitor—more evidence that the vessel appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. The Soviet Astronaut had a sudden flutter of fear. There could be no doubt. He was utterly lost in outer space.

No one knows how long the Soviet Astronaut sat there gazing out the window. It might have been an hour. It might have been a day. Or even a week. Who knows? He just sat there in a torpor. A blank stare. This is why when a strange fuss began outside the window the Soviet Astronaut didn’t immediately react.

However, after a little while the Soviet Astronaut woke from his stupor, and that’s when he saw it. He goggled out the window with great amazement. Two large oranges were floating outside interacting in a pretty strange way. Surely, this could be very important knowledge for Soviet science. The Soviet Astronaut grabbed the flight log book and started to make notes in a fever. Again, everyone was very responsible back then—even those who were lost somewhere along the way to hell.

The oranges were drifting away from one another, then drawing close, rubbing each other and sprinkling the window with essential oils. They were rocking and trembling, gasping and moaning All of this made the Soviet Astronaut a little bit suspicious. He stopped making his notes, lost in thought.

(I think I need to make some explanations here. The thing is, the word ‘sex’ was absent from the lexicon of the citizens of the USSR, so they were unfamiliar with the process that this word describes. Nuts, but true. Poor, poor Soviet Astronaut! I wouldn’t want to have been in his shoes at that moment.)

So, the oranges were continuing to do what they did, and the Soviet Astronaut was sitting there with a thoughtful expression, the flight log book in his hands. Suddenly, a speaker box somewhere began to bark.

“Earth to the Soviet Astronaut, do you copy, over? Do you… come in… over…”

The Soviet Astronaut jumped in surprise, making another somersault in the air.

“Earth! Earth! It’s the Soviet Astronaut! I read you, over!”

“Where are you? The vessel has disappeared from our radars!”

“I don’t know. Perhaps the vessel has changed its route?”

At that very moment, the oranges outside the window started to shake uncontrollably and groan. Then the glass was covered with a mixture of orange juice and peel. Suddenly, something bumped the window and a hush fell over everything. If the Soviet Astronaut had looked at the operating panel at that moment, he would have noticed that the vessel’s route had indeed changed half a degree, but for obvious reasons his attention was focused on other things.

“Earth to the Soviet Astronaut, do you copy, over? Don’t panic! The Soviet Government never leaves its citizens to their own devices. We will get back to you shortly to give a status report.”

The speaker box went silent. Suddenly, the Soviet Astronaut felt extremely tired. He recalled the wise words of his late grandma. She’d always said, “Tomorrow is another day. Go beddy-byes under any strange situation, sweetums. Just sleep.” The Soviet Astronaut decided to yield to this wise advice. He retired to his cuddy.

When the Soviet Astronaut woke up next morning and looked out the window, the Moon was there. And the stars. And the withered space mosquito. Even the science fiction TV show was playing on the same small monitor. Everything had a cozy and familiar look. The Soviet Astronaut heaved a sigh of relief and took up his flight log book.

He was pretty surprised when he reread his jerky notes from the prior day. Outrageous oranges in outer space? No way! This never happens! The Soviet Astronaut thought a little bit. It had obviously been a bad dream. Maybe he’d bumped his head on the glass a little too hard. He reread the notes again. It was doubtful that these notes would be of Soviet science interest. So… he made a decision.

He tore several pages out of the flight log book and shoved them under his bed. Then a moment later he pulled them out, balled them up, and popped them in his mouth and swallowed—just to get them out of harm’s way. After this, the Soviet Astronaut was back to his TV show, and there wasn’t a happier person in the whole Universe.

P.S. By the way, somewhere at the beginning of 2010, American scientists made a statement that one of the moon flags was missing. It’s a well-known fact, not merely my fancy. But this is a completely different story. Turn your beams to me and stay tuned, dear readers.


© All rights reserved 2017

THE ABCs OF A PECULIAR LIFE // D is for Dugongs & Decidophobia

Little Dugong was very talented. He actually was, and not only because his Mommy Dugong thought so. (Every mom thinks their baby is the best. I once even heard a holbrookia boasting that her daughter had an exquisite ear for music, but I preferred to break no squares with another quixotic mommy.) Anyway, let’s return to our muttons… or, rather, dugongs.

Yes, Little Dugong was very talented. He painted with watercolors in the Biedermeier style. He painted an ocean, ships, topless sea-maids and sunken treasures. His forelimb was free and easy, his eye was sharp, and his imagination went above and beyond. Little Dugong would have a great future as an artist.

This year Mommy Dugong decided to prepare something really special for Little Dugong’s birthday. She woke up very early, quickly supped up morning kissel, put on her best tilt-bonnet, gave a peck on Little Dugong’s nose, and went to the city. In a few hours she was back with a big package; it was gift wrapped with starfish and chamomiles. Little Dugong was bursting with curiosity as to what this could be, but he knew he would have to wait until the festive dinner.

Finally, that long-awaited moment was upon him. Little Dugong impatiently droned, “Many happy returns!” then snuffed out the candles and with bated breath unfolded his precious gift. Holy mackerel! It was a drawing book!

It was covered with smooth emerald-green leather and had acid-free cold-pressed pages with a pleasant ivory hue. There was even a wide elastic band to keep the book securely closed to the nosy beaks of curious gulls and the beady eyes of elephant fish! It was the best drawing book in the whole world!

Happy Little Dugong fussed over the drawing book for the entire evening. He was opening and closing it, caressing its flawless sheets, sniffing its sweet-smelling leather. He even licked it once or twice while Mommy Dugong was busy with the dirty dishes. When Little Dugong got between the blankets later that night, the drawing book rested cozily beneath his pillow.

As soon as the next day broke, Little Dugong hurried to the shoals, climbed onto a big stone, and opened his treasure. He imagined all the beautiful things that he would paint, and this sent his heart fluttering with delight and joy. Little Dugong decided to start with a charming mermaid that he had met a day or two ago near some random rock.

However, once he raised his limb to a pristine sheet, a wormling of doubt started to gnaw inside his mind. After all, the mermaid wasn’t so youthful; her breasts were a bit faded and the pearls in her hair were kind of wishy washy. No! She wasn’t worthy to be in these pages! Little Dugong decided to paint something else.

An ocean! He would paint the illimitable ocean. It was deep, green, and full of mysteries and lost ships. Then Little Dugong dropped his eyes and saw a white plastic bag swaying on the waves. Yuck! No, he couldn’t spoil his flawless drawing book with such an imperfect thing as an ocean! He simply had to pick something else, something ultimate and picture-perfect.

The time ticked by… Little Dugong was still sitting on his stone with his untouched drawing book. He didn’t hear his Mommy Dugong calling him for midday meal, he ignored his friends who ran off to play hurlbat, and even disregarded a youthful sea cow who gave him a playful wink. Of course, he hadn’t even noticed a sea gull who sat not too far away and was looking at Little Dugong with malevolent curiosity.

The sea gull got off the ground and made a slow circle. Then another one… and another one… then it hovered right above Little Dugong… and shat all over the drawing book with much relish.

What happened next? Of course, Little Dugong howled like a jackal and ran to his Mommy Dugong. He was just a child after all (though he weighed more than a metric centner). The spoiled drawing book stayed on the stone and its smooth emerald-green leather gently shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight.


© All rights reserved 2017