Law 1: Make sure the two species are compatible.*
He saw her sitting at the bar, one dainty hand holding a Zomarian Martini, while the other two impatiently tapped upon the bar counter. She was beautiful for an alien—and he ran through his mind all the things he wanted to do to her, um, extra body parts. He couldn’t tell exactly what species she was, because far too many of them looked similar fully clothed, but had different anatomy.
She appeared to be bored, however, and the man knew she would be a tough nut to crack. He brushed straight his slacks and shirt, straightened up the Earth tie he wore around his neck, and used his best “Hey, baby, I’m a stud” stroll as he approached the beauty.
He sat at the stool next to her, ordered a Zomarian Martini, and began to lay down his game. “Hey, gorgeous, how are you tonight?”
The lady turned to face him with two cold piercing eyes. “What do you want?”
The man takes a sip from his martini. “Your name and number for starters.”
She laughed; a high shrieking giggle that caused the man’s ears to buzz. She eyed the man more seductively now. “You’re the first man to make me laugh tonight.” She glanced around her surroundings, and then bent over to whisper into the man’s ear: “Why don’t you and I go somewhere more—how should I put this—intimate? I have a room in this hotel. We can continue our conversation there.”
Sheepishly, the man nodded. They both dropped enough credits to pay for the drinks, and then departed to the woman’s hotel room.
Only minutes after being alone with the alien beauty in her private room, the Earthman dashed out of the room in his boxers. Sweat dripped off his face and his appearance was that of a man that had just been taken advantage of. In the doorway stood the alien, wrapped in a hotel bathrobe, chuckling away.
“I have an outty just like you,” she teased from the doorway.
“Condemned cross-gendered Fluvians,” cursed the man as he stomped embarrassedly down the hallway, “always playing tricks on people!”
Law 2: Keep stereotypical comments to yourself. Do not even attempt to make a joke based on them, unless you are very familiar with the individual and know how he/she will react.*
She could barely hold back her excitement about her first date. She had lived thirty-six Earth years (equivalent to sixteen Earth years for Humans), and it was about time that her parents allowed her to go out on a date. She wasn’t a child anymore.
She was even more excited because her date was a Human and not a Broglarian. It had taken her many Earth months to convince her very strict and traditional parents that it wouldn’t damage her moral fiber or corrupt her sense of Broglarian heritage if she when out on one harmless date with a Human. Besides, they lived on Earth; was she to spend the rest of her life locked up in her room to avoid the other species? As the teenaged Earth children of that day would say: “As if!”
She had just finished applying her make-up to her third eye when the bell next to her vanity rung and the image of her date patiently waiting at the door appeared in the middle of the mirror. Upon seeing his tall, handsome, and muscular body—he was the captain of the school’s squareball team—two of her four hearts began to palpitate wildly.
“I’ll be down in just a minute, Kevin,” she screamed at the image of her date. He looked up into the camera to wave and smile at her. And then the image vanished.
She hastily put on the rest of her make-up and clothing. Before leaving her room she checked her appearance one last time in the mirror. Everything was perfect.
She ran down the stairs to reach the front door. Her parents were in the family room participating in virtual news. She sent a telepathic message to them that she was leaving; they sent messages back with numerous warnings of how treacherous Human males can be. She brushed those messages off with by rolling her eyes, and then swung the front door open to greet her date.
“Wow, Selevinianna,” exclaimed Kevin upon seeing his date, “you look soaked!”
The girl tittered and replied, “Thank you, Kevin. You look soaking wet, too.”
Kevin smiled broadly and struck a manly pose. “Well, you know. What can I say? I try my best.”
Selevinianna giggled and joked, “Well, we both know how vain and concerned about their looks and weight Human males are.”
Kevin stared at her with a blank face. He wasn’t laughing and he didn’t seem pleased—in fact, he looked at her like she didn’t know what she was talking about. Suddenly, Selevinianna knew she had misspoken in some way. Her heart sunk to her stomach—literally. Whenever a Broglarian becomes too distressed, one of their hearts drops down a shaft into their second, non-acidic stomach to slow their breathing, lest they died.
“What are you talking about?” said Kevin. “Is that what you think of Earth boys? I think our date is over.”
Law 3: Be aware of his/her species’ physiology and limitations when planning dates and activities.*
Today was his all-important third date with the Livian opera singer. This date could make or break their relationship; if, after this date, she still wanted to see him, he knew that he was in the clear to be her male companion. He would’ve bested the other three or so dozen guys of various species that vied for her affection.
He looked at the autographed picture of he and Latvia sitting on a bench at a park on Mars. She looked radiant as her constantly changing amoeba-like body gyrated as the picture continuously played the scene of that day. Sloven scooted his paramecium-like body closer to Latvia, and then extended one long hair-like cilium to wrap around the opera star and pull her closer to him. The scene ended there, and the picture replayed itself from the beginning.
His two previous dates with Latvia had been a little slow for Sloven’s tastes. They had strolled in Riptide Natural Park on Mars and took a pleasure cruise along Orion’s Belt. Nothing too stimulating for Sloven; he was the type of Cringin that enjoyed methaneboarding on Pluto, running solar marathons on Mercury, and dancing the nights away in crazy clubs all over the galaxy.
Latvia, like most Livian, was more into leisure activities and cultural dates. She was beautiful, famous, and rich; those three qualities that Sloven loved most about her allowed him to suffer through the other two boring dates. But, on this date, Sloven had something totally different planned for them.
Latvia greeted Sloven warmly when he arrived at her doorstep to pick her up for their date. They briefly came together to share cellular material—a common greeting of close fondness between single-cell species.
When the bond had been broken, Latvia said, “What do you have planned for us today, my dear?”
The protoplasm within Sloven’s membrane bubbled slightly with excitement. “Oh, my dear Latvia, it is a surprise!”
“Oh,” giggled the Livian, “I love surprises!”
Sloven then gently placed a blindfold over Latvia’s optical sensor and led her into his space shuttle.
When Sloven removed the blindfold from Latvia’s “eye,” they both were standing atop a large white-covered hill. On their bottoms was a long plastic board that they both shared.
Upon seeing where she was at, Latvia gasped and shrieked with panic, “Sloven! Sloven, where are you? Where have you taken me?”
“This is an ancient Earth sport called ‘snowboarding!’” Before Latvia had time to voice her displeasure, Sloven, who was to Latvia’s rear, nudged the board forward and down the hill.
Their screams echoed upward as the two sped down the hill: Sloven’s yell was that of exhilaration, while Latvia’s shout was filled with fear and panic. Sloven steered their board left and right wildly, while Latvia continued to scream her fright.
Sloven made a wild series of sharp movements; the board hit a rock and sent the two single-cell organisms crashing down onto the cold snow. Sloven, as he rolled in the snow, laughed hysterically. Latvia, however, behaved in a stranger way after coming in contact with the snow.
Latvia’s body began to shrink from the human-sized form she had before. “Sloven, you dolt,” she chastised as her body continued to shrink, “snow is deadly to Livians!”
And then, mere moments later, the galaxy lost one of its greatest opera voices of all time forever.
Law 4: When attempting to learn your partner’s native language, be sure to use proper enunciation.*
“Xexzi mrreci trobavon, Selena?” said the holographic language instructor.
“Zecsi merci, tra bavon, Selena?” hesitantly echoed the human student.
“No, no, no,” scolded the holograph as it paced around the Human. “That is all wrong. You have to be careful what you say to Vonans; they are very emotional and take things personally. One slip of the tongue and you’ll say the wrong thing, and then she will never talk to you again. Are you sure you want to do this?”
The Human swallowed hard. “I want to. That’s what I’m trying to say. But these condemned Vonans have the strangest language. It’s so hard to pronounce.”
“Perhaps you should give up and simply ask her in the common language,” retorted the holograph. “You Humans are prone to giving up easily.”
That was just the kind of motivation Curtis needed to continue with his studies. “My species is known for our perseverance and determination.”
“Prove it to me,” said the holograph with a snicker. “Once again from the top: Xexzi mrreci trobavon, Selena?”
After Curtis and Selena had dined at the finest restaurant he could afford, Curtis escorted his date outside for a promenade along the nearly deserted streets. The night was cool and crisp, with a gentle breeze blowing in the dome of Mars City, Venus.
Curtis led his date to a bench, where he sat her down and went down on one knee. There, he removed a ring from his pocket and nervously asked, “Zecsi merci, tra bavon, Selena?”
Horrified and offended beyond consolation, Selena screamed: “You want to do what to my mother’s horn? You disgust me. After all this time together you’re not better than a Gravian sludgehound!” She then used her long Vonan leg to kick Curtis in the chin. The blow sent Curtis flying five feet into the air, only to land hard on the sidewalk.
Curtis sat up and, while rubbing his chin, asked the angry form of Selena, “What did I say wrong?”
Law 5: Make sure you fully understand his/her species’ mating and marriage rituals before you commit to anything—so that there will be no surprises later.*
Today was the day that he, Morcus of the Roachian race, would marry the most gorgeous and loving creature he’d ever met: Mellisa of the Mantisian race. He had spent the past six Earth years as her lover, and now it was the time for them to be joined forever in marriage. He was so thrilled when she agreed to marry him that he even approved of her desire to have a traditional Mantisian ceremony.
Morcus, however, was no fool: he read extensively on the rituals of the Mantisian people. Their marriage ceremony was nearly identical to that of the Roachian people. The only difference was that the Mantisian people required that the couple publicly copulate during the ceremony—something that Morcus did not disapprove of.
Morcus stood in the thick of the rainforest of the Mantisian homeworld, Raidon-5, with his human-sized cockroach body dressed in a loose fitting white tunic. He waited by the green waters of the large lake-sized swamp that served as the traditional location where Mantisian couples said their vows. Only the immediate family of the couple was allowed to witness the ceremony; nearly three thousand insect-like individuals surrounded Morcus on three sides in a ring.
The Elder One, the Mantisian that performed the ceremony, banged a large copper gong with his muscular tree trunk-like forearm; the sound resonated throughout the swamp. The ceremony had begun.
Emerging from the various foliage of the rainforest was Mellisa, her ten-foot tall, praying mantis-like body sulking through in a slow death march. She wore no clothing at all—the traditional wedding appearance of a Mantisian female. As she moved, her long neck and head bobbed up in down; a smile was not visible upon her face.
Morcus, however, smiled at his bride as she marched through the crowds of relatives. She was easy to spot because she was a full four feet taller than Morcus’ Roachian family. Mellisa’s Mantisian family, knowing the rituals, promptly moved out of the bride’s way, while the Roachians crowd around her (which was their custom).
Eventually Mellisa stood beside her groom in front of the Elder One. The gray beard sporting Mantisian cleared his throat, and said, in the common language: “Greetings, families of Morcus and Mellisa. Today is the day of the joining.”
“Crow the word,” shouted Mellisa.
“Crow the word,” echoed Morcus.
The Elder One continued: “Let no Mantisian—or Roachian—stop this joining without good cause.” He paused for any of the disgruntle guests to speak. None did, so he continued with the ceremony.
“Let the joy of the two be known!” proclaimed the Elder One. He then sounded the gong again, waited it to grow quiet, and said, “Let the love of the two be shown.”
“Crow the word,” shouted Mellisa.
“Crow the word,” echoed Morcus.
And then the public mating ritual began.
After Morcus and Mellisa had coupled, the Elder One asked Mellisa, “Is your womb bubbling?”
Mellisa nodded. “Yes, it is.” Her black beady eyes were filled with tears.
“You know what must be done,” said the Elder One.
Once again Mellisa nodded, her eyes overflowing with tears. Morcus had no idea what was the happen next; the manuals he studied on Mantisian rituals said nothing of the events after the public mating. For all Morcus knew, the ceremony was over, and he and his new bride were free to go home.
But, there was one last thing for Mellisa to do. She sorrowfully reached down and bit off the head of her husband. It was part of the ancient mating rituals of the Mantisian much smaller ancestors from the plant Earth; once impregnated, the female praying mantis always bit off the head of the father.
Obviously, this was information that the Mantisian people didn’t want outsiders to discover, so they never put this information in any of their public ritual manuals.
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*Note: All laws were derived from the interstellar best-selling manual You Too Can Date Anyone in the Galaxy! By Dr. Elgram Fletorn.
By A. Jarrell Hayes
This short story is included in the upcoming ebook Stranger Than Speculative Fiction, Vol. 2. You can download Vol. 1 for free here. Thanks for reading. Feel free to leave constructive criticism.
