Chapter Five

I wish I could tell you ‘exactly’ what happened after that. But let me tell you this… the human propensity to turn things into alcohol is as limitless as it is charming. The last thing I remember was Boatswain and Byron making a bet of some sort, something about a ball, and then I was handed something called ‘tequila’. I didn’t know what it was made of, but there was a worm at the bottom that supposedly granted magic powers if you drank it. So… down the hatch it went.

After that, there is nothing.

When I woke up there was a sunbeam in my eyes and I could feel the grass beneath my body. My ‘costume’ was a patchwork of stains and I really regretted not going with my first option when I was considering how to dress. If you’re wondering, my initial plan was to just dye my fur white, (clothing was still weird to me at this point), but I changed my mind to better blend in with the others.

There was a ray of sunlight hitting my eyes, and my head was pounding, I groaned, and realized I was curled up on someone’s feet. I could hear voices. Two of them.

My eyes fluttered open, and I saw the pale blue uniform embroidered with the golden fleur de lis, the symbol of the human capital city. It’s a strange device, like a triple headed spear that curls outward from the center, or like a strange looking flower.

My head was pounding, and off in the distance, somewhere out of sight, I could hear an abundance of splashing. I wished everything would shut up and let me just die again for a few hours.

But it was not to be. I was alive and staying that way, and doomed to listen to the conversation taking place above where I lay.

“Sir, dressing up your dog does not make you immune to leash laws, and you know I could also give you a ticket for animal cruelty, getting your dog drunk and dressing him up in… that…?”

“I’m telling you he’s not a dog, do you know any dogs with that many ears? And look, he’s got, okay, his hands have paws, but those are clearly fingers.”

“Smells like a wet dog to me. And the rest can simply be mutations or selective breeding…like the others.”

‘Great.’ I thought. It was a dog catcher or animal control, and I recognized the voice, it was Byron.

I was going to speak up, say something, but my tongue was lolling out of my mouth, I tasted grass, it was not good. But also, my tongue wouldn’t respond, I can only assume that the worm granting magic powers is some form of human myth. It was a question for later, as I was regaining consciousness, I had a vague sense that no, I didn’t quite want to die, but I also didn’t want to wake up, or move, or talk.

“I will never drink again.” Is what I tried to say. What I actually said was “Ghaka naba dank agan.” Which means nothing… except perhaps that I drank too much.

Thankfully, neither of them seemed to notice, and the reason they didn’t notice was the same reason that the splashing stopped and why the animal control officer’s damnable tapping on his datapad stopped.

“There, found it. Ha!” Boatswain said just as the ball dropped from his mouth and onto the ground. “And I guess you found Bailey. What do you say to a few more throws before we head back?”

That damnable tapping started up again. “Never mind the ticket sir, I see I was mistaken.” A chubby face loomed over mine as the human bent forward, “I guess he really is an alien, huh, never seen one of these up close before. Well give him some hair of the dog and some bed rest…” he looked up at Boatswain and tilted his head back to look up the military dlamisa and whistled, “damn, y’all make em big.” He then pinched his nose, “and all three of you smell like a brewery.”

Byron chuckled, “We were at a funeral. There was alcohol. A lot of it.” He said and crouched down to pick up the ball.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

He launched it with a powerful pitch. I caught sight of it as it sailed over a cluster of bushes and beyond the shallow crossing spot of the river. Boatswain was turned around and gone so fast that my lazy, weak, bleary eyes could barely follow him.

“Right. Say no more. Uh, if that’s the case… your friend going to be all right?” The worker asked.

“He’ll be fine, Miguel, he just ate the worm.” Byron said while the splashing went up again when Boatswain hit the water.

The worker whistled again, “Damn, son. The boys’ll never believe me when I tell them about this call.” He took off his blue baseball cap and scratched his dark hair, “First it was that blobby guy that turned into a puddle, now this. Maybe I should open a bar just for aliens, y’all drink so much that I might make back my money on the grand opening.”

The man Byron identified as Miguel was clearly joking, but it didn’t seem like such a bad idea to me… if not for my promise to never drink again.

I groaned and rolled over, just as I was about to push myself up, I saw Byron’s hand outstretched, I took it, his fingers and palms were thickly calloused, and he hauled me to my feet as if I weighed no more than Michael. I wavered a little, and put one hand on my head, “Ugh, I’ll never drink again.” I promised myself, but then what Miguel said, hit home.

“Blobby guy? Was he green?” I asked, and Miguel nodded.

“Yah, he was with some lizard guy who kept licking his eyeballs, weird but, they seemed nice enough. Somebody thought the lizard guy was an escaped monitor lizard from the zoo, he had a good sense of humor about it at least.” Miguel rubbed the back of his head and when I noticed the dog wrangling stick in his hand, he had the good grace to discreetly move it behind his back.

“That sounds like my professor, and one of my colleagues.” I said and huffed. I slumped forward a little, “I shouldn’t be surprised, after all the recent chaos, honestly I am surprised he didn’t come sooner.” I raised my head and asked Byron, “I know you’re having fun with Boatswain, but could we cut it short for the moment? I know how much fun Cherokee Park can be… but I should get cleaned up before my teacher arrives.”

Byron looked past me, Boatswain was charging back with the ball in his mouth, it was obvious that neither would really want to leave. I could hear the squeaking of the ball with every squeeze of Boatswain’s powerful jaws, its siren’s call demanded that I stay and ask for a few throws.

But between the alcohol pounding in my brain and my own sense of smell returning to me, demanding I wash off the fragrant aroma of alcohol, and my own natural terror of getting a lower evaluation… I begged off my instincts with a promise to return to the park at a later time with Fauve.

By the time Boatswain reached us, Byron had already agreed. “Afraid we’ve got to go, this one,” Byron jerked his thumb toward me, “has to meet with his teacher.”

Boatswain dropped the ball, letting it roll out of his mouth to drop into Byron’s hand, he stared at it like the ball would leap out of his companion’s grip and fly off all by itself, and grumbled, “I suppose we have to. We’ve been gone too long already.”

“I guess that settles that esse, y’all have a good day, and maybe next time leave the worm alone, eh? I gotta go, I gotta explain all this and… drop some folks off.” Miguel said and waved to us as he headed back to a large truck with a high covered top clearly meant to contain numerous animals.

“I’ll never drink again!” I said to him and waved farewell.

Then to Byron I simply whispered, “Thanks.” before I asked, “So… what exactly happened last night?”

The human exchanged a look with Boatswain, and said, “Do you at least remember the part where you called your embassy?”

If I could have paled like a human face, I would have.

“No… what… exactly did I do?” Byron jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the dog catcher’s truck. “I’d say you can ask your ambassador.”

“But he’s passed out, along with most of the embassy staff.” Boatswain finished. “Thankfully the dog catcher is now convinced, and he’ll take them back to the embassy to sleep it off instead of letting them wake up in the pound.”

“Wh- I don’t- I didn’t mean to-” Suddenly my professor’s visit was looking a lot more awkward to me, and deportation looking a lot more likely, I wasn’t quite sure what to say, and so finally said nothing.

Byron tossed the ball up and down in one hand, Boatswain’s eyes watching and bulging every time it made a squeak, “Yeah… I wouldn’t worry about it, we invented a new sport. I called it ‘Baileyball’ but after they got too drunk to say it anymore, it just became ‘Ballyball’ and I guess that is what it’ll stay. Come on, get in the car, I’ll explain on the way back to your house.”

When I began to half walk, half stagger toward the waiting black car of the security staff, I couldn’t help but wonder whether or not I really wanted to know what happened or not. But I concluded that, ‘Whether or not I want to know, I’m pretty sure I’m going to find out… hopefully before all of my ears are full with my professor’s reprimands.’