Saturday, January 18, 2014

2013 Christmas Gift for Sweetness

2013 Christmas Gift for Sweetness

Once upon a time on a yacht in the middle of the sea, lived a middle-aged couple. Sometimes they had children with them, a young lady and a young gentleman from the husband’s previous relationship, but right now the kids were away at school. The middle-aged couple would sail all day to exotic locations that needed their help.

Right when this story begins, the husband is trying to navigate their way to the country of South Sudan.

“Darling, I think it’s landlocked! Try Uganda!” called the wife from the computer room up into the piloting area.

“Isn’t Uganda landlocked?” He called back to her from the wheel.

All he could hear for a few brief moments was a long chain of blasphemies followed by, “Goddamn at-sea satellite internet connection!”

She kicked their router. “Steer for Kenya!” she called up at him.

He pushed some buttons and set some dials. He hoped their course would not take them through another ocean garbage patch. His loving wife was still on a tirade over the last one they found.

They had left Los Angeles a few days previously, and he had been hoping to spend a few leisurely days with her old friends Verity and Heeatoa on Nuku Hiva. But she had heard the international distress call. If there is anything she hates it is innocents dying, so the middle-aged couple sent their regretful regards to French Polynesia and decided to chug along to Africa.

He left the control room and found her in the kitchen reheating aloo gobi for lunch. It was his night to make dinner that night. He tossed his shoulder length brown hair and laughed to himself.

“What would they say, Honey?” he asked her.

“Beloved, they would say I get cranky when I’m hungry.”

Beloved laughed to himself again, “No wonder you forbid any cameras in the home.”

“Hush, now, Beloved, would you like some aloo gobi?” she asked.

Beloved could not stop laughing at Honey, “You are barefoot and pregnant in my kitchen. What would the feminists say?”

Her mouth was full of cauliflower, so he had to wait for her to swallow. “I am more comfortable barefoot.” Then she giggled and swept her long raven hair behind one shoulder. “What is for dinner tonight? I am ravenous!”

“Don’t you mean ravishing?” It was and old joke between them, and he swept her up into his arms and kissed her.

She giggled, “I must taste like curry.”

“Curry and hot pepper. Yum!” he said and kissed her again.

After lunch, as was their habit when the weather and waves were cooperative, Beloved reduced their speed and leaned back comfortably in a chair on deck with his aging acoustic guitar. This was Honey's favorite time of day. She would stroll out on the deck beside him pregnant or otherwise every day, and in her bare feet on the nonslip surfacing, she would dance.

Dance was Honey's meditation. When the worries of the world would weigh on her, and they always found her no matter who got in trouble where, following a live guitar solo with her flowing frame always cleared her mind. The solutions would just find her after that. Beloved just loved watching her dance.

There was a rumor about Honey's dancing. "Never look directly into the light," they used to say. Beloved knew that warning well.

Today he was working through some spontaneous rockabilly for her. If anything was too preplanned or rehearsed it would not allow for her to meditate. She had to hear the music for the first time for it to work, and their loving marriage had depleted his reserves of memorized music years ago.

So, rockabilly off the top of his head was the tune du jour today. This genre always fared better than his impromptu 70s style glam rock but was never quite as good as his good old-fashioned rock and roll.

The waves lapped at the side of the boat. The clouds rolled past the sun, and soon it grew dark. Much too soon.

Beloved finished strumming a song and quieted his baritone voice long enough to pull his watch out of his pocket. It was only 4pm, but it was dark like the sun had set and night was about to roll in. It was something completely alien to this tropical latitude.

He looked up at the dark sky and thought they should take precautions. "Honey,..." he started, but his words froze in his throat. Her arms we extended in the air in mid dance, the wind was whipping her long raven hair about her head, and she was floating two feet in the air above the deck of their home.

"Um, Honey," he stammered, "you're, um, flying..."

Her eyes opened. She stared straight into his soul, and her beautiful lips said one thing. "Mothership."

And with that, the sky went black. Out of nowhere directly above Honey, a spotlight shown down upon the yacht. Beloved could feel an electric charge in the metal frets of his guitar. And Honey rose into the light. He could hear a hum, a comforting, motherly hum, emanate from above him. She rose past the clouds and up into the light of the mothership.

Well, what am I going to tell South Sudan?Was the first thought that went through his head. Followed shortly by, She always said she was born in Duluth, MN, and If she isn't human, how could I get her pregnant?

Then, after what felt like a lot of questions for him, the sky blasted bright with the afternoon sun, and Honey appeared on deck, arms lifted to the sky, hair blowing about her head, as if she had never left.

Beloved ran up to her, kissed her, and asked, "What the..."

"Hush, now," she soothed him, "they were just some friends of mine passing by."

He put his hand on her protruding belly. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yes, we're just fine."

Then, Beloved's brain exploded. "Aliens!" He screamed, "We just saw aliens! They came to us! They know you! You know aliens!"

Honey giggled. She remembered how giddy she had felt the first time they had made contact with her. "They just wanted to meet our little one." And Honey rubbed her belly. "I asked them if they wanted to meet you, but they said they already had. Apparently, they came in undercover as the crew of your last film just to make sure they could like you. They said thank you for the swag towels."

Beloved was still in shock, "Aliens? I... I've worked with aliens?" He giggled to himself. "I mean, I've always had my suspicions of Hollywood..."

Honey laughed. "Now, Beloved, I am famished. What's for dinner?"

To be continued...

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