BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.5 - DEAD

BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.5 - DEAD

by Christine Butler

You sigh and look around at the people you have been living with for the past few Earth years. Even the ones that knew what you were accepted you, and for that you're grateful. Seeing Sally in Garlock's grasp is what tipped the scales though. There's no way you can leave her to that fate.

"Fine. I'll come with you, but you need to let Sally, and all these people, free." You tip your head back to indicate the humans you're now trying to protect. It is your deepest hope that your sacrifice will not be in vein.

Garlock laughs at you, spewing shit in streaming hot sprays as he does. "You think this is a negotiation? You think I'm here to leave anyone behind? You are being spared only to help with the brood you stuck the Queen's niece with. I've been ordered to bring back any of our kind, hybrids included. The rest..." Garlock motioned to indicate the humans lingering about on the fringes. "They've all seen too much. There won't be anything left of them in the end. You might get off easy though."

"Damn," you mumble under your breath. You know now that it's time to fight or die. You notice that Garlock's men now have the place completely surrounded and you don't stand a chance in hell of getting these people out of here unscathed. Sally's passed out, or maybe dead, and still in Garlock's grasp. It's time to just hang your hat and forget about the wasteland that is Earth. Maybe one day you will be able to come back and find out what happened to your... friends.

You hold your tentacles outward in a sign of submission, and hang your head low, utterly defeated. This is not the way you envisioned things going. Garlock whips out one of his enlarged main tentacles, and wraps it around you, so that you have been both immobilized and covered in a thick layer of the shitty mucus he produces. Your nasal openings burn with the fetid stench, as you are transported to the ship that will take you to your home world and the royal palace of your kind.

You awaken, after being put to sleep for the ride home, to find that Garlock's shit stench no longer permeates the air around you. Instead, you smell the fresh aroma of moon powdered tentacles. "I smell babies." The words leave your mouth before you can even take in your surroundings.

"Indeed you do." The Queen is looking down on you with a smug expression. "You thought you could have your way with my niece and not have to pay the price?" She throws her head back and cackles, which has more of a gargle sound to it, as the mucus membranes in her throat rattle about with the gesture. "Have you ever wondered where King Randalth or King Blagrath got off to?" she questions you.

Now that she mentions it, you had wondered why the hell there had been so many kings in your short life. There were always jokes that the Queen going through the birthing process of her younglings was the death of each of them, but everyone joked about that. It didn't make things true.

The gargle-cackle came again as the Queen continued. "Royal babies cannot survive without a proper feeding. We've managed to keep them sated for now, but they need their daddy to feed them."

You back away from the Queen until you come up against the back wall of the room. "No." You shake your head, and your tentacles start waving around erratically as the fear gets the better of you. "That can't be..."

"Oh, but it is." The queen says as she turns to leave the room. Before she goes, she pushes a button on the wall that releases a gas into the room. It makes you feel a little woozy, like your tentacles weigh you down and are too heavy for you to move again. "What... is.... hap...pen...ing?" Your words sound, to your own ears, as if they are being played in slow motion. The Queen is gone, but you swear you can still hear her cackle-gargle echoing in her wake. Then four panels in the wall slide open, and through them come your brood, and they look starved. You hope it's affection they're starving for, but when the first one bites down on your heavy tentacle, you know. All the stories were true. Royals feed on the flesh of their fathers. A scream escapes you, and then another, as your spawn tear into your flesh with their razor sharp teeth.

In all your dreams of glory and adventure, you never once thought it would end like this. You have been eaten to death by your own spawn.

BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.3 - STICK IT TO ME

BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.3 - STICK IT TO ME

by Tomara Armstrong

The fact that you’ve never been able to hold your liquor or hide your admiration for curls and curves has compromised your human form, and you’re quickly turning into a writhing ball of amorous tentacles, allowing your chains to fall to the floor with ease.

Sally drops her stiletto in shock as a volcano of firewater erupts from the depths of your stomach, projecting the ball gag into her face, knocking her to the ground—unconscious, and covering her with sickness. You crawl across the floor, reaching for her, sliding your many arms over her sticky body, trying to remember the traditional dance of your species. It’s been a while, so you improvise.

What am I doing?

Sobriety smacks you in the face, and instantly you return to human form. You would be embarrassed if Sally wasn’t passed out. You’re about to pat her cheek to rouse her, when you remember that a few short moments ago, she had you tied, gagged, and was tormenting you. She even called you, Rachorin—a name few know or dare to whisper on your home planet.

You reach into your cupboard and pull out a glowing syringe. Hoping to immobilize Sally for questioning before the sheriff arrives, you stick her in the neck and plunge the contents into her bloodstream.

Her eyes pop open as you prop her up beside you on the floor. “What have you done?” she says, searching you with her eyes—the rest of her body frozen.

“I’m simply restraining you…the easy way.” You pull her toward you, wrapping your arms around her and kick at the chains that once held you captive.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” She coughs. Her face starts to turn an odd shade of purple and her eyes bulge. “It’s starting.”

“What?” you ask, as Sally begins to cough and gag, spitting foam and blood. The serum you administered was meant for your kind, you haven’t tested it on this type of hybrid, and it appears she is having some sort of adverse reaction. Her arms begin to flail, smacking you in the face. She falls on top of you, pinning you against the wall as she continues to spasm. She’s much heavier than you anticipated.

“Be still.” You try to wiggle toward the counter and feel for your medicine bag, but Sally makes it difficult as she continues to flop around on top of you. Grabbing the handle of your leather bag, you give it a good tug and pull it to the floor, spilling its contents in the puddle of sick.

“Come on, come on!” You attempt to fish for something to use, but everything slips and slides in the mess.

She’s bucking now, gurgling and hissing, and a strange smoke begins to rise from her head and chest. This is new—not something your species experiences, and while you’re fascinated with this discovery, Sally begins to make an even stranger noise.

Tickingard that beforenglder'nd. and organs, and releasing your stinking ash in the wind.pasm.g--anything e clicking a?

“Great,” you belch as Sally begins to pulse and glow, ticking.

Your ears pop.

Silence.

Time moves in slow-motion as you close your eyes and cover your head.

Millions of particles ignite and scream, evaporating the breath from your lungs and melting your eyeballs in their sockets. White light swallows you up, devouring your pseudo flesh and crumbling your alien organs, leaving the wind to disperse of your ashy remains as it pleases. 

BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.2 - SALOON SALLY SINGS

BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.2 - SALOON SALLY SINGS

By Christine M. Butler

The stench of laser-burned flesh tickles your nose as you inform the Sheriff that you will get everything taken care of. You look down at the still-burned figure before you, and bow once more, assuring the Sheriff again that the alien will be all right until you can get back.

You step out into the late afternoon sun, feeling it bake your skin as you take in a few gulps of searing hot air. It is hot as a whorehouse on nickel night. Not exactly the refreshing feeling you’d hoped for, but better than smelling the remnants of laser-blasted tentacles. You take the folded up piece of paper out of your pocket, and notice the flourish of dainty script that could only have come from a woman’s hand.

Doc,

You are the first of your kind I’ve seen in some time. I wasn’t sure, at first, if I could trust you. Now, I’m running out of time. I need your help, before they find me, and before the towns folk here realize what I am. Please, you are my last hope.

Maggie has kindly given me a temporary sanctuary in the church attic, but I won’t be there long.

~Sally

You re-read the letter twice more, not quite sure what to make of it. There was a time “your kind” might have meant the skin you’d chosen to walk among the inhabitants of this planet. What they called “natives” were still unwelcome most places, but you’d managed to settle in just fine anyway. After your talk with the Sherriff, you’re not sure how many people you actually fooled with your disguise though. You find a small bit of peace in understanding that the big bub himself knows what you are, and he hasn’t run you out, or strung you up yet. It gives you hope. You take a moment to consider your options, but the conjured image of saloon songstress Sally puts your croaker thoughts to rest. There was always something captivating about her, even if you didn’t fall under the same spell everyone else seemed to when she cranked up her pipes.

You head to the church to go appease your own curiosity. Dust settles thick on your boots as you walk. Rain is long overdue in these parts, and doesn’t appear to be on the horizon in the near future. You watch as a horse out front of the Hotel Grand takes a piss in the road. It’s the first thing you notice as you amble back towards the church. As you get closer, Maggie, the preacher’s wife, is peeking out of the curtains of the little shack she shares with her husband. You tip your hat slightly, and she flutters away.

You don’t even hesitate as you approach the church, taking that first step up, heading to the door. That is when you realize your mistake. “Dad-blame it!” You curse under your breath. The paint on the steps is still wet, and now your boot print is there for all to see. You backtrack and walk around to the side of the church where the preacher’s door is. You jiggle the handle, and find it’s been locked. You are hot, tired, and just about to give up, turn around, and head back to the shop when the lock clicks over. The door cracks just enough for a set of bright green eyes to peek out.

“Ma’am.” You tilt your head in her direction, noting the trail of fiery red curls that that pop into view.

“Quick.” Sally throws the door open and reaches for your arm, dragging you inside before slamming the rickety wooden door shut again. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” She keeps walking, and you follow her. Sally reaches up to grasp the catch on the attic door, and pulls it down to reveal a makeshift set of stairs. As Sally ascends, you can’t help but notice and appreciate her curvy figure. When she sits on the floor at the top of the stairs to swing her legs up and over, you politely look away until she gives you the all clear. You proceed to follow her up into the small attic space where you must stay hunched over in order to avoid knocking your head on the rafters.

You take out the paper that the barman slipped you earlier. “Sally, I’m not sure…”

She cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. “Shh.” Her finger finds its way to hover over your lips as she speaks. “We don’t have time. I got word this morning. There are men coming to take me away, and I need your help to get out of here.”

“I’m not sure what I can do for you.” You tell her honestly.

“I’m not what I appear to be, and neither are you.” Her gritty accent is lost from her voice as she speaks. “My father is the same as you.” Your eyes widen just a bit as she continues her story. “He came to our town on a mission to blend, learn, and see if this place could work for his kind. I don’t think anyone ever thought of mixing with the humans here, but my father met my mom and he fell in love.”

Sally was looking off into the distance seeing another time and place unfold before her. You stand there, patiently waiting for her to finish. “She knew, of course. It’s hard to hide when your kind gets…” Sally bites her lip, and you can’t take your eyes off her mouth as she does. “Excited.” She finishes with a blush in her cheeks.

“Anyway, everything was fine for them. No one ever knew our two species could reproduce together, but apparently it works. I’m proof. The humans in our town never suspected. I grew up normal with no outward signs of tentacles.” Sally blushes again as she holds up her hands. “My fingers change if I’m angry, or I need the suction for things.” She demonstrates, and you are flabbergasted as her fingers turn to wavy tentacles before your very eyes. You know, now, that her story must be true. “I was set to marry Biff Jenkins not long ago, but there was an emergency. My mom’s Uncle Jeb, the town drunk, fell off his bar stool and knocked his head in pretty good. They went to get mom, since she has some knowledge of medicine. Well, she and dad were in an intimate position when Harvey Dingle, the deputy, burst in on them. Harvey saw what happens when your kind is excited, and he ran blabbing his mouth.”

Sally grabs your hand, pleading to you with her eyes. “They hanged my daddy. Hanging doesn’t kill your kind though, and he managed to escape while the town drank themselves stupid in celebration. I’m not sure what happened to momma, because I was forced to run too. Biff, my fiancé, has been trying to track me down ever since. I got wind that he caught my trail again, and he’s headed here now.”

You take everything in and let out a deep sigh. “You want me to get you out of town before he shows up?”

“Please!” The urgency in her tone makes her angelic voice crack. Sally grasps your hands in hers to add to her plea. Just as you are about to agree anyway, you hear several sets of hooves approaching outside at a fast pace. “Oh, no!” Sally yelps. It’s your turn to put a finger on her plump, rosy lips.

“Shh, I know just what to do, sweet Sally.”

You have a choice to make.

A)  You hide Sally and confront her alien-hating ex-fiancé, Biff Jenkins, and his posse. If you utilize your tentacles, you can fire more guns at once, and possibly take them all out in quick order.

B)   You sneak Sally around the back of the buildings while the raucous newcomers offer distraction for the Sheriff. You take her to see the wounded alien, thinking that maybe his group can offer her refuge, or possibly have information on Sally’s father. After all, there aren’t that many of their kind supposed to be settled in these parts.

C)     You realize this town just got too hot to handle and you bug out with the sexy songstress in your saddle as a consolation prize.

RED PLANET STOWAWAY CH.6 THE SHUTTLE TO NANDITZ

RED PLANET STOWAWAY CH. 6 - JUMP ON THE SHUTTLE TO NANDITZ

By JA Souders

Malloy, Saleen, and Peter Tan step from the pod and you panic. You know it’s only a matter of time before they find that blob of a shape-shifter and they come looking for you.

And once they find out you know they plan on killing the president, that’s exactly where they’ll expect you to go. Not. An. Option.

So that leaves following them and trying to play hero. Or jumping on the shuttle to Nanditz and hoping someone there can help you. You decide you’ve never been much of a hero anyway, and take the shuttle.

The only problem with that plan is that the trio hasn’t moved from the pods, and the shuttles are in their final boarding calls. You don’t have a choice. You have to risk it. You rip off the security shirt and try to sneak as quietly as possible behind them to the shuttle pod.

Unfortunately, just at that moment, a little girl with bright yellow pigtails runs into you. You apologize with the intent to keep moving, but she squeals, a high-pitched yell that pierces your eardrums.

“Mommy, mommy look! It’s Smelvis! Can I have your autograph, Smelvis?” She shoves a notebook and pen into your hand.

You groan and wonder how this girl has mistaken you for Smelvis. You look nothing like the alien performer; for one thing, you’re not purple.

You quickly dash off a signature, hope that the trio didn’t notice the girl’s outburst, and push past her to the shuttle.

Just as you’re about to step onto the shuttle, a hand grabs your arm and twirls you around. You're facing Malloy.

He sneers at you. “What’s your hurry, Smelvis? Your fans want your autograph.”

He tugs on your arm and the shuttle doors close.

All you can think as he pulls you through the crowd is that you’re in for it now. But to your surprise, he only shoves you into another shuttle. Saleen is doing something at the controls.

Malloy and Peter Tan tie you up like a hog at a greased pig contest and then secure you to the seat, so there’s no way you can escape. Not that you’re not trying. The ropes bite into your skin as you struggle, but it’s a no go.

Someone had obviously paid attention during rope tying at the academy. Something you wish you had done instead of drinking your way through.

The trio smiles and Saleen wiggles her fingers as they leave the pod. Your stomach sinks.

There is no good reason they’re leaving.

You feel the minor vibrations of the shuttle leaving its dock and wonder where the hell it’s taking you.

You don’t wait long for your answer.

“We have reached…safe distance from planet…Orbiting mode initiated. Self-destruct sequence activated...Have a nice day! And thank you for using Red Planet Transport…

…5…4…3…2…1 . . ."

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 6

RED PLANET STOWAWAY - CH.2 BETWEEN A CRAP AND A LOUD PLACE

RED PLANET STOWAWAY CHAPTER 2: BETWEEN A CRAP AND A LOUD PLACE

By MJ Heiser

Something about Malloy’s dangling bits fills you with rage. This is no way to live, you think to yourself as a red-hot surge of determination swells through you. I will not be victimized by this naked, grey-fuzz-covered ape.

These thoughts take next to no time to go through your head, but even so, it was time you really didn’t have. You’re past the decision point. You stagger over the soiled, filth-smeared underpants on the floor and heave your shoulder against the locker door.

Clang.

Oh, crap, you think to yourself.

“What the –“

You curse the throbbing mass of pain on your head and use the brain that surely still operates beneath it to locate the lock mechanism for the locker. You lift it, the door opens, and you stagger out into the relative brightness of the hallway-sized room beyond.

You don’t get much of a chance to appreciate your freedom from Malloy’s locker. Your windpipe is cinched shut, and you’re hoisted roughly into the air.

“Urk,” you say, with less dignity than you were hoping.

Through the pain in your head and the steadily tightening tube of your awareness, you see Malloy scrutinizing you. The bright red of his face is alarming in contrast to the white nakedness of the rest of him. His eyes narrow. You’re pretty sure of this. You don’t want to think yet that it’s only your consciousness narrowing.

“You,” he breathes. Spittle lands on your cheek.

“Hack,” you reply in a choking gasp. You want to flail. You want to do the thing that kids do, which is sag, make themselves extraordinarily heavy, and slip out of their parents’ grasp. You can barely move.

“What were you doing in my locker?”

You flop your head to the other side, hoping for some relief on your windpipe. No dice. Malloy apparently did really well in the Chokehold classes at NOSSA Academy.

“Answer me, maggot!” he barks.

If you had the energy and the breath to do so, you would roll your eyes at him, sigh, then say, “Uh, hello? I can’t breathe, and therefore can’t answer, duh!” You come as close as you can and roll your eyes up to the whites.

You’re dropped. You take a great gasp of air, and it burns in your lungs. You spend a couple of seconds curled on your side, whooping air into your body and trying to come up with some creative way to get out of this.

You make the mistake of looking up. You are now gazing directly into the underside of Malloy’s underparts. You almost gag.

“Maggot, you owe me an explanation,” Malloy starts –

But again his junk has inflamed you with rage. You don’t have to lay here and take this. He wants an explanation you can’t give him. Above and beyond all of that, you’re being forced to confront the sight of the most unattractive genitals in the human species.

You strike out with your booted feet and feel the satisfying impact – like kicking a rolled up pair of tube socks. You hear Malloy suck in a huge breath. You’re reasonably certain you know what happens next, and there’s no real need to stick around to verify your assumption. You’re on your feet and moving fast, slipping out of the narrow locker rooms before Malloy can regain his composure.

You emerge into a long, narrow corridor, lit above and below by glowing fluorescent lamps in the ceiling and floor. You don’t get anything as easy as signs pointing the way. All you get are sounds and smells. To the right is the smell of hot grease, as well as the source of that chugging machinery noise that drowned out most of the conversation you heard from the locker. To the left is the unmistakable stench of human waste – sewage processing, most likely. About twenty feet down the right corridor you spy a metal-rung ladder heading up into parts unknown.

Malloy’s voice bellows behind you. If he hasn’t figured out yet that you overheard some very delicate conversation between him and Richardson, he will soon.

You have to make your choice.

A. Search the rust bucket's machine room for a weapon?

B. Dig around in the giant crapper for a miracle?

C. Take the ladder to nowhere, counting on Malloy being too fat to climb it?

RED PLANET STOWAWAY - CH.1 HIDE UNDER MALLOY UNDERPANTS

RED PLANET STOWAWAY CH.1 - HIDE UNDER MALLOY'S UNDERPANTS

By JA Souders


You quickly bury yourself under the pile of gray-colored, nasty, smelly underpants and hold your breath. The sticky fabric crunches under your fingertips when you pull it over your head.

Each of the captain’s footfalls is in time to your heartbeat.

Please don’t come here. Please don’t come here, you beg, although you know it’s hopeless. Where else would he go to retrieve clothes?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your eyes water from the fumes drifting off the raunchy clothes, but you try not to move. If Malloy catches you now, it’s all over. Better to let the salty tears run down your cheeks than taste the rusty blood when he knocks every single one of your teeth out of your head for seeing him naked.

Malloy continues to grumble under his breath about “fucked up alliances” and “gray-skinned bastards whose only interest in camaraderie is eating our still beating hearts once they rip them from our chests.”

You wonder, vaguely, what the hell he’s talking about just as he wrenches open the door to the storage locker. Surprised by the abruptness of the move, you accidently gasp. The pile of clothes you are lying in tumbles out and across the captain’s bare feet.

Fortunately, the sticky substance on the grody briefs seems to have stuck the cloth to you and you remain concealed. You cover your mouth with your hands and pray he didn’t hear your slip.

Malloy’s mutterings fall silent. One. Two. Three heartbeats.

A tickle in your throat is causing you to swallow fast in an effort to control the cough brought on by inhaling the noxious gases pouring from his clothes.

What is this man doing with his clothes? Why do they reek so badly? Then you remember the sticky stuff and think it’s better if you don’t know.

Finally, Malloy mumbles about having the laundry bot maintenanced. He steps forward and his bare, gnarled foot, stinking so badly of moldy cheese that it overwhelms even the stench of clothes, collides with your stomach.

You try to control the wince, but it’s no good and the air whistles out of you as he kicks your stomach again, knocking the wind from you.

“Bloody gray-skinned bastards!” he yells and then slaps something along the side wall.

A siren blares. The call for General Quarters. You don’t have to look to know the red lights are flashing and crews all over the ship are scattering like ants to get to their battle stations. Not to mention that security is even now on their way to save the captain from the “enemy.” You.

Captain Malloy reaches up and pulls a white polycarbonate helmet—the kind they use for space walks--down from the top shelf of the locker as you struggle to sit up and explain. But even as you open your mouth, Malloy is swinging the hard plastic bubble at your head.

Stars explode in front of your eyes and you collapse into the toxic pile of clothes again. He continues to beat you until your vision hazes and you feel the floating sensation that is your consciousness as it leaves you.

Just as you black out, you see Malloy grinning down at you. “Thought you could get the best of me, didn’t ya? Going to report back to your Hive leaders what you heard here today? Going to let them know you saw me in all my glory?!”

You black out when he kicks you in the stomach again.

What feels like only seconds later, light floods over your body. You moan and wavering shadows swim into view. You can’t make out what these beings look like, but you can tell one is shorter than the other.

“It’s still alive. The captain said he’d killed it,” shadow one—the shorter of the two--says.

“Guess not. C’mon. We’ll have to finish the job,” the tall shadow says with a lisp. He sounds like a snake and you wonder if you were handed off to those “gray skinned bastards” the captain talked about. More clothes get peeled off your body and you moan as the light stabs into your eyes and a headache pounds behind them.

“Wait! That’s not an alien, that’s…” the tall shadow exclaims.

“Oh, shit! You’re right! What was the Cap’n thinking?”

“Does it matter? He thinks there was an alien here. It isn’t our job to prove him wrong. We need to get this…thing to the space lock like he said.”

“But it’s human?”

“Not according to the captain.”

You finally realize what’s happening and struggle to sit up, as the two shadows argue back and forth. When they see you sitting up right, they glance at each other. The smaller of the shadows takes your feet, while the other takes your head. They carry you down the hallway to a room with another smaller room at the end of it. The small room has a large circular door on one end with a window in it.

You see the red haze that signals that the red planet is circling below you.

You struggle harder, but it’s no use. They’re too strong. And they toss you into the tiny room. Then they leave, and the door locks behind them, echoing with finality.

You jump up as the warning lights and buzzers sound. They’re planning on tossing you into space without a suit!

You bang on the door, but the man standing at the window only smiles, waves, and points to the doors behind you as they slide open and pull you into airless vacuum of space.

Your last thought is how you can still smell the captain’s underpants.

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 1