Zogdon had become incredibly and some may
argue irreversibly disillusioned with the merits of the everyday monotony of
space cadetry.
As he held the revolver to the head
of his former partner in the agency, Zogdon wondered if he had ever loved
anyone; or if anyone had ever loved him. The traitor counted to three in his
head like he had always done since a young age. One…what should I do? Two…how
did this happen? Three…will they ever get revenge on me?
Thoughts bounced through Zogdon’s
head like enormous meteors ricocheting off the dirt piles of the desert
highlands of Jemoff, his home planet and without question one of the most
breathtaking pieces of land in the history of the galaxy even according to the Simon
Cowell of planet beauty contest judges (which apparently dropped the swimsuit
competition, one of the most highly viewed segments of the annual Planet Beauty
Contest), like they were getting some form of payback in regards to a
longstanding dispute over a shared driveway. His agency, the Department of
Space Security, is located in Yasper which is the capital as well as the
largest city on the orb. In addition to being the former co-leader of the
sector, the most despicable defector in the history of the solar system was
also the most well-known raconteur in the galaxy. Most legends have it that
Zogdon could spin a web so intricate that he himself became entangled in its
grasp, never to resurface to tell the tale of the tale. A few Jemoffians have
claimed that Zogdon has made them grow so weary with laughter from his stories
of yore that they returned to their rock household to sleep for many moons on
end, so many that once they awoke they could not recall what had sent them into
such a spiral of uncontainable giggles.
“Why me?” The other co-leader of the
sector, Keith, cried out in despair as he felt the ice cold metal pressed
against his temple. Keith was bent over on his knees, pushed over to the ground
as if he were about to take in his last breaths. Perhaps, this would be the
case.
“Why not?” Zogdon squawked as he
chortled in delight, looking for appreciation from an unwelcoming audience of
one. Keith never thought Zogdon to have the same amount of wit as the rest of
the galaxy did.
“Remember at Space Cadet School? I
was the first person to be your friend. You were sitting in the corner, eating
lunch by yourself and looking all sad. I reached out to you and came over to
your table to share my peanut butter and jellonium sandwich with you. We were best
friends for years, Zogdon. Does that ring a bell?” Keith whimpered, covering
his ears with his hands as if the whole universe would not fold in on itself
like an interstellar burrito if he could just block the sound.
Zogdon was taken aback by Keith’s
pleas for forgiveness. The two of them had gone through so much together; good
time, bad times, the worst of times. Zogdon worked hard to hold back tears and
keep his composure as memories of their schooling overflowed in his head like
one of the Nine Great Waterfalls of Jemoff. That one of Keith and his favorite
things to do during the lunch period when they were supposed to be studying for
upcoming exams. While the rest of the students filed neatly in an orderly line,
Keith and Zogdon snuck off through the kitchen of the cafeteria as they bounded
past pots and pans with more joy than anyone has ever bounded past a pot or pan
with other than a lunch lady who just got a raise. Once they had made it past
the gauntlet of chefs, teachers, students and the dreaded Principal Clope,
Keith and Zogdon would run as fast as they could to one of the Nine Great
Waterfalls of Jemoff. Upon reaching the base of perhaps the Fourth or Seventh
Waterfall, the two that were nearest in proximity to Space Cadet School, the
two would typically be completely out of breath, panting and wheezing their way
back to life. Then they would scurry up the rock walls of the waterfall, tiny
boulders being flung and caroming down the edge dozens of feet to the water
only to make the most microscopic of splashes. It was as if these tiny boulders
had spent six months training in Colorado Springs of the United States on
planet Earth with Greg Louganis of California, land of the microscopic splash,
and Dive Master for the short-lived ABC Celebrity TV diving show Splash. Even
the Russian judges would give these tiny boulders at least a decent enough
score to advance to the final round.
One time in particular stands out in
Zogdon’s memories like a sore thumb, swollen from years of gardening space
plants. Keith and Zogdon had held back from the crowd of eager future space
cadets, readying to bury themselves in their textbooks for the next hour of
lunch. Once they were free from the scrutiny of the eyes of their peers (who
would most certainly report them to the proper authorities at the drop of an
official Space Cadet-licensed helmet), supervisors and the dreaded Principal
Clope, the two rebels leapt for joy as they hopped and skipped their way to
freedom. Or so they thought.
Meanwhile, in the gardening shed,
Groundskeeper Zon, who had the sorest of thumbs from gardening more space
plants than you could even imagine (while gardeners on planet Earth are said to
have a green thumb, Jemoffian gardeners acquire sore thumbs derived from the
prickly plants that gnash into their hands like one thousand tiny Greg Louganis
boulders being flung into the atmosphere from one of the Nine Great Waterfalls
of Jemoff.)
As Groundskeeper Zon took a daily
inventory of his space tool shed, he heard the familiar, obnoxious sounds of a
couple of rascal students emanating from just outside the creaky door.
Buy Chris's books SPONGE CAKE & WHAT'S IN THE FRIDGE? on Amazon
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