The Online Journal of Wilgo Weems, Space Diplomat, 20710909 (488 hits)
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Submitted by Jack McCallum (View user info) at 2007-08-23 17:39:47 EDT
*Editor's Note:
Wilgo Weems is the pseudonym of an Earth Diplomat in Pleiades Sector. He has served at the same Interstellar Embassy for the past eleven Earth years and wishes to remain anonymous, to avoid termination and legal action.
In upholding the guidelines established with the passage of the Galaxy Wide Web User and Administrator Protocols of 2066 after a provocative practitioner of speciesism in the guise of an alter kindled the first interstellar war in which Earth was involved (http://wikipediagalactica.org/wiki/Gundershunt_Wars) the true identity of 'Wilgo Weems' has been confirmed by the administrators of http://gww.galacticblogs.com.
In our opinion (and we have revisited this debate many times,) Wilgo is not a specist. If anything, he was born in the wrong century, and must therefore remain anonymous if he is to avoid persecution under such laws as the Politically Correct Lifestyle Act passed in 2018 (younger readers may not be aware that many of their grandparents protested in the streets against the passage of this collection of laws, known once upon a time, and derisively, as 'The Pussy Pact') and to avoid any legal actions that may be taken against him by the Office of Homeland Sensitivity, the officers of which visit the hallowed halls of the GWW Hub here on Triton (http://gww.triton.neptune.investmentopportunities.gov/) on a regular basis, often accusing us of choosing a remote Solar location so we may carry out nefarious acts when in fact we simply need easy access to nitrogen ice for our superconductive hardware.
We stand by Wilgo Weems and with your support at ballot sites across the system we hope that one day the laws that are constricting our freedom of expression will be rescinded, or at the very least, loosened enough that all of us can express ourselves freely.
>--<
September 9, 2071 ET
I'm so sick of this place I could take an airlock walk.
The Pleiades are lovely, and lovelier still when seen from the window of my office in the Earth Embassy aboard Cmaamc Station, only a few light years away from the star cluster.
Yet the moment I turn away from the window and immerse myself in the squabbling and jockeying of the many alien species here, the beauty if forgotten.
I know, I know, here's another journal entry in which Wilgo outgases about his sad, sad life.
Believe me, you'd spuck too if you had to deal with the snobby, elitist and downright disgusting specimens of alien life I encounter on a regular basis.
And I say 'so what?' to those cringing quislings, finks and backstabbers who acquiesce to every outrageous alien demand and remain silent in the face of slurs against Earth and the Solar Colonies and the many diverse and wonderful life forms inhabiting our little system, the last system (so far) to join the League of Interstellar Nations.
Just because we are new to space and often naïve does not mean we are bumpkins to be insulted, ignored, or ordered about. The quislings would have us crawl on our bellies before our supposedly more evolved, enlightened, and powerful galactic neighbors and I say ENOUGH!
Take, for example, my first encounter with the Skooge.
Oh, Wilgo, you say, 'Don't berate the magnificent Skooge, their knowledge is vast, their impact is huge!'
Nonsense and spuck, I say.
Yes, the Skooge brought the Puhdd engine to Earth, giving us easy access to the stars. But those of you who are not students of history are quick to forget that we gained that technology only after a Skooge freighter crashed into Minneapolis-Saint Paul, laying waste to the entire metro area.
Right now younger readers are thinking, "Wilgo, what is Minneapolis-Saint Paul?" To which I reply, google Minnesota Crater State Park.
When we began investigating the wreckage of the Skooge craft (christened the Hlthlockathlockhu in their so-called 'musical tongue') taking on that task after six months of accounting for the many millions dead or injured and conducting extensive risk assessments of the area (read your history, children! It is YOUR history!), we discovered a number of deceased Skooge, and we naturally assumed upon first glance that these poor aliens had been turned inside out by the force of the crash.
Yet that was not the case. These self-described superior beings which appeared to have been gutted by impact trauma had been eating a meal at the time of the crash! This was their natural state at the dinner table!
Let me compose myself, and explain.
Last night, at a ceremonial dinner recognizing the establishment of a peaceful alliance between the Im, the Rognafunk and the Batooni-Batai, I had the misfortune of being seated beside the Skooge Ambassador.
For starters, I was so upset by the physical appearance of the Skooge, not to mention the foul odor wafting from it and its burbling, blorting attempts at human speech, that I was momentarily unable to recall if I should address the Ambassador as 'Mister Ambassador' or 'Madam Ambassador,' since the Skooge are hermaphrodites (thus a simple, "Ambassador" will do), and frankly, if I was a hermaphrodite and was born into the incredible wealth of every Skooge child (their entire system is ripe to bursting with precious metals and gasses and at the moment of birth every Skooge is a quintillionaire), I would be inclined to stay at home and play with myself all hours of the day. Then again, I wouldn't have anyone upon which to unload the burden of responsibility for birth control, so perhaps that wouldn't be such a good idea.
There I was, seated across from an Im (remarkably human in appeareance, both of his penises fully erect and peeping over the edge of the table to show his dominance in the Im heirarchy and implying his dominance over the rest of us), a Rognafunk (who kept watching me, his little yellow eyes swaying at the ends of their stalks when they weren't tucked inside the safety of his mouth), and a Batooni-Batai (who was smitten with 'Earth people' and jabbered on and on about it in broken English, "Ut-peepee yah-gut, Batooni-Batai like-yah Ut-peepee."), making small talk and thinking things could not possibly get any worse, when the Skooge sat down beside me.
The Skooge are remarkably toad-like in appearance, with squat bodies, no neck to speak of, and pyramid-shaped heads dominated by wide mouths. They exude an atrocious smell, like partly disgested matter. The smell is unavoidable as the stomach and lungs of a Skooge are the same massive organ, and their speech is powered by belches that carry apalling odors up from their inner depths.
At that point I had only been told what to expect. I had never seen it in person. I suppose I could have gone to UniverseTube and called up some Skooge imagery, but I have been dealing with alien life forms for many trying years now and thought I could handle anything.
I was wrong.
When the first dish was served, gelled tspopakapok floating in uhnh soup (a Fellish-Oblarty Colonies specialty which tastes delicious despite an entirely unwholesome appearance), I could bear up against the sight of the Im's obvious gusto, expecting his swollen penii to begin spurting at any moment, and I could watch without grimacing as the Rognafunk spooned bits of tspopakapok into his mouth while his uhnh-smeared eyes twitched with excitement not unlike the phalluses of the Im, and I could tune out the incessant chatter of the Batooni-Batai buffoon ("Yah-gut soopie, neh? Ut-peepee like? One day gonna-me taste-yah Ut-peepee fud, yah!"), but when the Skooge beside me suddenly convulsed and disgorged his entire massive stomach into the table, I was filled with disgust.
It is said that the Skooge are amused by the fact that most species convey food from source to mouth with hands or pincers and from mouth to stomach through muscular convulsions or the use of gravity. The Skooge take a more direct approach, simply vomiting their huge, purple stomachs onto their food, letting the voluminous flaccidity drape over a meal like an unfolded bedsheet, watching contentedly as that slimy, fleshy organ settles upon the meal and then contracts and condenses the foodstuff into a compressed ball before the now clenched and compact stomach is reeled back into that squat body.
I vomited. I could not help myself. The sight, the smell, the wet flopping slap as the stomach hit the table, the pops and gurgles as it began to clench... it was all too much.
I released a stream of vomit that struck the Im in the shoulder. He slammed a fist down on the table and released twin streamers of ejaculate skyward to demonstrate his rage. One of those streams struck the Rognafunk in the eye and it closed it's mouth, stumbling blindly from the table, where it stepped on the tendrils of the Batooni-Batai who shouted, "Fuk-yah, you-yah!" and then grinned at me and said, "Ut-peepee swear gut-yah?"
Ambassador Wellington rushed over and began spewing apologies like the milquetoast he is, while the Skooge blatted and frapped in embarrassment and outrage.
I retired to my quarters immediately, and had an uneasy sleep filed with nightmares in which I was encased is a sucking, crushing, pulsating purple sheath.
Quite unpleasant.
And just this morning I received word that in a few Earth days we are hosting a dinner party for a delegation of Ffffahhh, the small, noxious beings from the planet Hroh who are little more than bags of gas covered in many pairs of ripe and somehow obscene lips with which they speak in flatulence and perambulate and manipulate the world around them.
Disgusting creatures.
I miss Earth.
Until next time,
-WW
User Reviews
Submitted by rorrim (user info) at 2007-08-24 08:08:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-08-23 19:25:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Why aren't we exploiting the aliens?
They're exploiting us. Mice are the dominant species on this planet.
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2007-08-23 22:47:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
damn those niggers, gettin all uppity.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-08-23 19:25:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Why aren't we exploiting the aliens?
Submitted by Yozz (user info) at 2007-08-23 19:25:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice.
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-08-23 19:23:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2007-08-23 18:02:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Gross
Submitted by SgtHartman (user info) at 2007-08-23 18:00:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 sci fi, I fucking love it.
Submitted by i_can_get_you_a_toe (user info) at 2007-08-23 17:52:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I've got that stupid song from that stupid movie stuck in my head.
Submitted by GodChicken (user info) at 2007-08-23 17:48:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
this is as many light years from your good stuff as the Pleiades are from Earth.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2007-08-23 17:42:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Damn, my spellcheck took a dump and I can't get it to turn back on. Fucking microsoft.