Chapter 6
After checking the caller id, James picked up the telephone on the fifth ring. One more ring and the voice mail would have answered. Adopting a graveled voice, he said, "Sam's Mortuary, you stab 'em we slab 'em. Who do you need buried today?"
"James?"
"Okay, so the deceased person is named James. Where can we pick up the body?" James asked.
"James isn't deceased," his agent, Sam, answered taken aback by the question.
"Then why do you want to bury him?" James asked. Nancy was rolling her eyes and having a hard time keeping from laughing.
"Sorry, I have wrong number," Sam said and started to hang up. Groaning, he realized that James was in a mood to play. He caught himself and said, "James! That's not funny!"
Chuckling, James said, "I thought it was."
"You've got a sick sense of humor," Sam said in an irritated voice.
"If you say so," James said, "but I'm sure that you didn't call just to tell me that."
"Right."
"So why did you call?"
"There are a couple of chapters in your book that need to be modified a little," his agent said.
"Just a couple? Modified only a little? Gosh, I don't know if I can do that," James said. If his publisher had his way, he would end up changing the entire book. As far as he could tell, his publisher didn't have much of a sense of humor. He started to explain, "You see, if I start to change things then the whole story will unravel. The next thing you know there will be words spilling out the back of my computer and littering the floor. There would be other consequences besides having a mess to sweep up.
"Little character fragments will get trapped in this reality. They'll only be able to say a line or two in this world before fading out of view. The next thing you know, they would return ten minutes later to repeat it. They'd live forever in an edit loop waiting for some slob to hit the undo button on the word processor, but by then it would be too late.
"That reminds me of something and I've given it a lot of thought. There are a lot of folks who believe in ghosts. They aren't really the ghosts of dead people. Not at all. They are really characters who've been edited too much as a result of picky publishers. The torture their poor souls would..."
"Cut that out!" Sam said knowing that if James really got into it that they'd be on the phone all day. He swore that one day he'd tape record James and publish it as 'The Rants of James Leonard Foster.' It would be a best seller just because of the extremes that James usually took things.
"Shucks. Here I was just getting started. I didn't even have a chance to go overboard, yet."
"You went a little over board with the seven foot tall female cop with the gay short cop."
Smiling, James had known that his publisher wasn't going to like that. He asked, "Really? I thought it was quite humorous. I was pretty sure that he'd get an erection reading that part of the story."
"Like I said before, you have a sick sense of humor. Harvey wants you to change the characters a little," his agent said making reference to the publisher.
"I could make the tall cop a lesbian too," James said in what he hoped sounded like a helpful tone of voice.
"You know what I mean."
"Okay, how about I give the short one a stutter so that when he hits on the hero it takes him twenty minutes to say it," James said.
There was a low growl over the phone. Harvey, the publisher, didn't have the right to force any major changes to the story, but he could request some minor alterations to make it more suitable for publication. Sam said, "Cut it out."
"The whole chapter?"
"Stop making jokes. This isn't funny. Harvey is very upset, particularly since you named the gay cop after him," Sam said. His ears were still ringing from that discussion.
"Oh, so that's the problem. Harvey is always telling me how sexy my heroes are. I thought I would give him a chance to live vicariously through my story a little," James said winking at Nancy.
"Harvey is not gay! He's just a little effeminate," Sam said.
"Okay. We'll change the name of the cop to Poindexter," James said. He always had wanted to meet a cop by that name.
"You will?" Sam asked hopefully.
"Sure, why not," James said. Such a little change meant that Harvey had something even bigger that he wanted changed.
"Now about the love scene where they hit heads..."
"Not changing that for all of the money in the world," James said. He meant that.
"At least give her some breasts," Sam pleaded.
"She's got breasts," James said feeling particularly proud of his description of them.
"Reading that section made me think she had pancakes instead of muffins for breasts," Sam said.
"Sometimes I'd much rather have pancakes for breakfast than muffins," James said. The comment earned him a puzzled look from Nancy.
"Look, you described it as though someone had turned her around and glued erasers to her back. No tits and no aureoles, just large pink nipples sticking up from a broad expanse of skin," Sam said reading the offending sentence.
"Such a way with words -- nipples sticking up from a broad expanse of skin. It almost sounds like poetry. Did anyone tell you that you should be a writer?" he said. Nancy shook her head at the description. She wondered where he came up with things like that.
"Those are your words," Sam growled.
"Gosh, maybe I am a writer after all," James said with a laugh.
"Look, you can leave in the comic relief that you call a sex scene if you give her real breasts," Sam said.
"It's too late for that. She's a little old for them to grow in now. I'll have to give her silicon breasts. Rock hard mountains of flesh supported from within by silicon and topped with aureole like snowcaps -- nipples jutting up to the sky like radio towers signaling her excitement to the world at large."
"You are one sick man," Sam said shaking his head. The sad thing was that he actually enjoyed that description.
As images of John Denver singing Rocky Mountain High flashed through her mind, Nancy said, "That's horrible."
"Just give her large breasts without going to a plastic surgeon," Sam said.
"I can't do that. She has this whole history of going through life flat- chested. If I give her real breasts, I'll have to change the entire story," James said.
Sam frowned and looked over at his copy of the manuscript. He said, "There wasn't anything about that in the book."
"Maybe it didn't make it into the book, but that's her history and I'm sticking with it," James said.
"You're sick," Sam said looking up to heaven wondering how he kept walking into these kinds of exchanges.
"You keep saying that," James said, "Maybe one of these days I'll believe you."
"I'm sure that Harvey will accept fake breasts," Sam said giving up while he was ahead. He was pretty sure that James would suggest that one breast was a full cup size larger than the other.
"I've got an idea," James said.
"I'd rather not hear it," Sam said cutting him off before he could begin.
"So that's it. Change the name of the gay cop and have the heroine visit a plastic surgeon. Anything else?" James asked.
"Just one more little thing," Sam said taking a deep breath.
'This is the kicker, ' James thought. There was always one major thing the publisher wanted changed regardless of what kind of story it was. The only reason the publisher called his agent was because he wanted James to make some major change to the story. His publisher hoped the agent would be able to talk him into it based on career rather than literary reasons. He asked, "What is it?"
"Uh, drop the last chapter," Sam said.
"What?" James shouted a little louder than necessary, "He wants me to rewrite the last chapter? It was the best chapter of the whole book."
There was a long moment of silence on the phone while Sam tried to recover his hearing. He had known that James would react like that. After counting to ten, he said, "He wants you to drop the last chapter, not rewrite it."
"Oh," James said with a grin. He should have been able to predict that. He asked, "What didn't he like about having the hero walk off into the sunset? I even had that in my outline. Don't all heroes walk off into the sunset after saving the heroine?"
"Not when they are standing on the edge of a cliff," Sam said thinking about Sir Author Conan Doyle who tried to kill off Sherlock Holmes. James' hero wasn't a Sherlock Holmes, but he was popular and could probably fill another couple of novels before the audience tired of him.
"I wasn't graphic. I just had two final words. 'Oh Shit... ' It was a merest hint of disaster," James said. The last chapter was less than half a page in which his hero, Dr. Dud, stood on the edge of a cliff admiring the sunset and then walked into it.
"Well, it was just too much of a hint. You do want to keep earning royalties in the future, don't you?"
"What's that got to do with it?" James asked knowing exactly what his agent was going to say.
"You can't kill off a popular hero if you plan to earn money writing sequels," Sam said knowing they had covered this matter on the last two books.
"Really? You mean I can't do a Son of Doctor Dud?"
"You could if he had a son," Sam answered. He wasn't quick enough to mention that there wasn't such a son.
"Well, he did have rather inept sex with the heroine in this book. I thought that getting her pubic hair caught in his watch was the height of literary creativity for a sex scene. Who knows what such a masterful performance in bed could produce?" James said winking at Nancy. She grimaced at the thought of having her pubic hair caught in his watch.
Sam groaned over the telephone. He knew it was too late to stop James.
Getting into the spirit of things, James added, "I'm sure that a son could have resulted from that. I even have a great name for him. I'd call him, Art Dud and make him a painter. I'd even give him a business card with his name on it, A. Dud."
"This is getting ridiculous," Sam said reaching for his bottle of pink stuff.
"All the better, my good man. My readers have come to expect the ridiculous from me. I have an even better idea. Rather than having him do his own painting, he's taught a raccoon to do the painting for him. Yes, the sequel would start off with the kidnapping of his raccoon for a million dollars," James said enjoying himself tremendously.
"What?" Sam asked with a sense of dread. It was too late to take back his question. He dropped the bottle of pink stuff and reached for the pills.
"Yes, and when he rescues the raccoon from the villain, they have glorious sex on the beach," James said. Nancy was rolling on the floor in laughter by this time. He added, "Just imagine what I could do with that. You know that raccoons always wash their food before they eat it? What a great way to start off oral sex. I can't imagine anything better than having your dingy washed by a raccoon.
"Then think about all of that sand getting into the nasty bits. I could devote two whole chapters to that alone. By the way, what kind of sound does a raccoon make when it has an orgasm?"
"Stop it, you're killing me," Sam said resting his head on his desk. Most literary agents had serious authors for clients. This was not the first time that he wondered how he ended up with a squirrel for a client.
"Still taking pills?" James asked in a conversational tone of voice.
James was busy making the changes to the manuscript while Nancy read the draft. She was laughing aloud. Looking up from the page, she smiled at him and, in a sweet voice, asked, "Did you really mean to describe our first time in bed together?"
"Oh, that's cold," James said knowing that she had just finished reading the part where the couple had sex for the first time. He put his hand over his heart as if he had just been shot in the chest.
"It's just that part about bumping heads reminded me of something," she replied.
"Oh, I thought you were referring to the part about mistaking her navel for her nipple," James said.
Nancy stared off into space for a minute and then said, "You did spend a lot of time kissing my navel. Is there something you forgot to mention?"
"No, I just find navels sexy," James answered.
"Really? I bet those episodes where Jeannie showed off her navel used to drive you crazy," Nancy said with a smile.
"You'd be right. I was so disappointed when they made her cover it up," James said.
"I take it the idea of a woman who could grant your every wish by crossing her arms and nodding her head had nothing to do with your excitement," Nancy said.
"Oh, it doesn't require that a woman cross her arms and nod her head to grant me a wish or three," James said moving his eyebrows in a lecherous manner.
Grinning, Nancy got down on her knees and approached him with a grin on her face. She had just reached him and touched his belt when four of the Quatyl ran out of the room with desperate looks on the faces. Noticing them run off, Nancy said, "I think it scares them when we have sex."
"I don't know why. They've each got a dozen or so eggs they're taking care of. They must enjoy sex as much as we do," James said.
"It must be the noises we make," Nancy said while lowering the zipper on his pants.
James groaned and said, "That's too bad, I plan on making lots of noise."
The female Quatyl wanted to put as much distance between them and the humans as possible. They curled up in the kitchen corner as far from the humans as possible. Once there, they shivered in place hoping that the distance was far enough. Between the four couples, they had almost fifty eggs. At the rate they were laying eggs, they'd never do anything except raise young.
The males were left under the chairs well within range of being affected by the activities taking place in the next room. They stayed curled around the eggs suffering from highly charged libidos that were overpowering. It was their hope that the female beast would go out of heat soon and end this torture. All eight Quatyl agreed that the human beasts were the most sexually active species in the universe.
With nothing else to do, James sat on the couch watching the television. The news was on and they showed a picture of the centaur that had been discovered in the southern part of Mexico. It was actually a fairly accurate reconstruction considering the few remains that had been found. James stared at the image and said, "That's the ugliest thing I've ever seen."
From their dens, four pairs of eyes were watching the television as well. They recognized the Gnord. Seeing the picture filled them with sadness. The Gnord had been a good servant and its death had been a major blow to them. Seeing it reminded each of them of the other losses they had suffered. Nearly two hundred servants had been killed in the crash and the time following that event.
Nancy came in and sat down on the couch. While the news reporter was interviewing the person who had found it, she said, "That was found down by where you were, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was," James said. For some reason, the cabin he had been staying in had even made it into a background shot.
"Did you see it?"
James shook his head and said, "No. It was found a mile or so from the cabin I was in, but I didn't explore the area too much. I was busy trying to get the book finished."
"Pity, you could have discovered two new species of animals," Nancy said curling her legs under her body. She was wearing one of his shirts and her position gave nice hints of her nether region.
The comment surprised James, but he didn't follow the thought through to its logical conclusion. He said, "I guess that as finder of a new species, I get to name the critters."
"Hey, that's right," Nancy said turning to look at him. She grinned and asked, "How about cutie?"
"No," he said with an exaggerated frown. He said, "It's got to sound Latin or something like that. How about cutasaurus?"
"They aren't dinosaurs!"
"How about cuta-critter?" James asked with a grin.
"I hate it when you call them critters. It sounds like some sort of hick label," Nancy said frowning and wrinkling her nose in a manner that he found quite attractive.
James thought about it for a minute. He didn't want to name the critters after himself. The idea of a species being known through all time by the name of a hack pulp fiction novelist just didn't seem right to him. He asked, "Okay, how about Qyx?"
"Quacks? Like the noise a duck makes?" Nancy asked. She wondered if he was making fun of her pronouncement of them as duck-billed platypuses. Of course, he wasn't the kind of man who would do that.
"No, Q Y X," James answered.
"Why that?"
"It would be a great word for scrabble," James answered bringing a groan from Nancy. He thought about a moment more and said, "Perhaps, Qyz would be better. A three letter word that scores twenty-four points is pretty impressive."
"Sounds like a test," Nancy said.
How about Quatyl?" He pronounced it so that it sounded like 'cute el'. In time, people would diverge on the pronunciation. A few would stay with the 'cute el' while the majority of people would say 'quat el.'
"I don't know," Nancy said feeling as if they were going back to names beginning with cute. She asked, "How do you spell it?"
"Q U A T Y L," he answered.
"I like it. It has a kind of sweet sound to it," Nancy said. She thought about it for a minute and asked, "What would be the plural?"
"Let's keep it simple and make it Quatyl," James answered.
"Shouldn't it have an 's' at the end?"
"Why?"
"Isn't that a rule for plural nouns?"
"Hey, I made it up. It's my word and I can apply any irregular rule of grammar to it that I want. Quatyl as both singular and plural is a lot better than the man-men, mouse-mice, or moose-meese rules" James said getting a laugh from Nancy on the last example.
"Okay. Even though it is both singular and plural, I like it," Nancy said knowing that at some time in the future some poor kid in third grade was going to get it wrong on a spelling test and curse James for it.
"Quatyl might not be as good of a word for scrabble as Qyz, but I kind of like it."
"So what do you do now? Patent it?" Nancy asked.
"I have no idea," James answered. His investigations on the internet when he was trying to identify the species of the critters had not suggested how a new species came to be officially named. Maybe his agent would know.
"I guess you had better find out before someone finds another Quatyl," Nancy said.
"You're right," James said.
Their discussion was interrupted by a new story on the television. Looking over at the picture that was being broadcast, James said, "Hey, they found some sort of space ship."
"What is that thing? It looks huge," Nancy said staring at the television.
"Let me turn up the volume," James said looking at the images being shown on the screen. He reached for the remote control while keeping his eyes on the television. The couple watched as images of the crash site were shown on television. Despite the fact that the investigators on the scene mentioned that they had found the remains of many different types of life-forms at the crash site, neither James nor Nancy made the connection to the Quatyl.
The Quatyl watched the television from their dens. The aerial photographs of the scene showed just how lucky they were to survive the crash. The environment in which it had landed was truly hostile. It is hard to convey the sadness that came over the Quatyl upon seeing the ship laid bare by the elements. Each of them stared at the television feeling alone and lost in a huge galaxy.
They weren't given a chance to sulk for long. When they heard the
couple start to kiss, the males frantically ran out of the room. They
really hoped that the beast had left the bedroom door open. He hadn't.
Four hours later there was another egg in each of the dens.