Jilted Her on Planet Pandora
I live in a quadrant of the George Galaxy where Intergalactic Enforcement routinely licks their wounds. Thanks to the lawlessness; the dirtiest, grimiest, and cruelest of the known sentient species are offing each other left and right. Trust me, you need all three words to describe these parts! Planet Pandora is the only haven in these crazy light-years. A dame from Xyzm calls the shots. You’re racking your brains about how one gal came to run her own planet. Let’s just say when we came to these wild-wild-spaceways, we weren’t quiet about it. How did we ever survive those gunfights? Dumb luck I guess. She's not fully human, by the way. Neither am I.
She’s a blue-skinned Namow Gorf, six foot five, and can leap great distances in a single bound, Strong enough to lift boulders from the ground and throw people twenty feet away. A large family backs her up. The big bosses fear when that smile turns upside down—my baby-doll can get scary—she’s so darn cute when she gets scary. Obviously, I got to do whatever I wanted.
Yeah, I have fun any time female Sapiens show up. Don’t think twice yours truly is some two-bit chauvinistic playboy. I pulled my weight in the family too. Ah, we call ourselves family because Anura says gang is an ugly word. ‘Family is much lovelier’, she said once. Any punk that tried to cause a ruckus got punished by yours truly Lovely Leo. That’s what my Anura called me.
I was the luckiest guy on the planet, me and Anura had dreams, we were going places. Now, I’m locked up in a cell while my girl is heartbroken. I didn’t mean to do it; it wasn’t my fault. Marriage isn’t in my genes, literally. We Homotheras’ aren’t the single steady-types. That’s why I jilted her on the day of our wedding. She wanted to get married. Stupidly, I agreed. Months the whole she-bang got planned out. Oh, Anura, baby doll, won’t you forgive your Lovely Leo? It feels like yesterday when I was driving…
There’s a big dusky cloud trailing behind me as I speed through the bustling, dusty old colony-town in my Enforcer car. Like most of the old colonies Sapiens abandoned, Pandora had some namby-pamby historical theme to it, the town was built to resemble a city called Detroit Michigan in the 1900. The original Detroit must’ve been a shithole considering the state ours. But hey, we got the fancy Sixteenth Detroit Cathedral, that’s where the wedding was supposed to take place. Oh, baby doll, your Leo is a stupid male. I shouldn’t have agreed to the marriage. When I saw that look on your face, I couldn’t resist it. Stupid, stupid, me. I guess it’s my fault; I’ve always known you didn’t like I slept around. Was our relationship doomed from the start? No! That can’t be true. These ten years were the best of my life. Anura is my girl, the apple of my eye. Then, why am I riding away from the wedding? All I had to do was say yes, and she’d be the happiest gal in the Verity system. Perhaps in another reality… In this one, I’m speeding through our dusty old colony. Sapiens may have left this place, but the memories I’ve made are alive just as the people—soured memories now. Four months. I was so close. Damn.
I want to think this is all a daydream; my subconscious concocted a way to deal with my troubles, as I wait for the wedding ceremony to begin. Whose leg am I pulling here?
Rationally thinking about the situation I put myself in, I wonder why am I running? They’re going to catch me. There’s no hiding place on Planet Pandora, cuz this city has been my home. I’m outnumbered and outgunned. Let’s forget about being outgunned. I couldn’t shoot my family. Not for all the lollies in space; I wouldn’t. I slow down the car and spin it around to face the towering sixteenth Cathedral, a mockery of my dumb action. It’s like I didn’t travel far. You cannot be downtown and not see the Cathedrals looming presence. It was something about God is in the heart of the city. Hokey Sapien faith shit, but hey, at least it was thought out. The colony makes sense. Unlike me, sitting here watching a line of cars come into view. Ain’t nothing I can do now, except smoke one. I pull a cigarette out the armrest, when the butt filter touches my lips, the automatic lighter activates, and a cloud of smoke fills the cruiser after an exhale. Humans been yapping about cigarettes for centuries now, saying it’s unhealthy and all that bologna. This is what I needed. A nice smoke. Now I can face Anura.
It didn’t take them long to catch up, after all our machines are the best in the colony. Top of the line and stolen from the Intergalactic Pigs. While taking another smoke, someone knocks on the window. I turn to see Michael, the only male dressed in a flashy bright blue tuxedo. He’s one of the few Sapiens in the Family. Cool kat, vicious as they come. Still cool. He only gestures. That’s all she wrote in that exchange.
Here I am in the slammer. Anura didn’t want to see me. Nobody spoke a word to me. What else can I expect? We’re criminals, thugs, thieves, and even murders, but we’ve got a code. “We’re a family, we stick together in the end,” she said once. She’s the glue that keeps everything together, why she runs the planet. Now I wonder how she’ll run it emotionally distraught, oh Anura… The good thing about being half-breed, I got the hearing of a Nam Noil. Someone is coming to my cell. Terse, each step done with precision. Ah, probably Michael. Yeah, it’s him just from the afro seen from the small glass in the metallic door. The door opens, I still don’t know how those long-sleeve crop tops don’t rip from his muscles, but he makes it work. The sandals and bell bottoms he wear often fool people, one kick from him can send you to the dentist. Despite his flashy appearance, the fella at times. I thought he was a pig for the first three years after he joined the Family until he put five shells in an enforcers skull. Michael is a stone-cold sockdollager of a man,
“I was told to let you know you’re out the Family,” he told me. He blew out here fast. I ain’t rhatz about it the break up, I ain’t no palooka. I’ll be singing the blues for a while. Ten years, we’re done. All because I was a palooka. Guess I am one.
That’s the end of the ride, kiddies. This story has more to tell, all right! So, you get the anticlimactic ending, if you call it one. Trust me, you’ll get the real ending. It’s full of the fun stuff, explosions, Intergalactic Enforcement, and that melodramatic mushy crying.
—TO BE CONTINUED—
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