My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

9

I could tell that Jiggs was a bit put out that I'd insisted we use a taxi to to take us to the White House.  He was probably looking forward to a shiny government vehicle with a police escort, but I had sure had enough of that, thank you very much.

And as promised, I’d called that friendly first cabbie for the ride.  His eyes were big as saucers as we saw the spaceship’s shuttle (the captain must have returned) on our approach to the gate. Once there, I added a hefty tip to the fare.(Nelson’s always tip generously). As I got out of the vehicle with my companions at the gate, we were hissed at, literally, by some protesters, which outnumbered the simply curious.

 Told you we should have accepted a limo in the first place,” Jiggs huffed, while the irritating ‘ hell no, make them go’, ‘traitors to humanity’ cat calls lingered behind us as we walked the short distance to the portico, escorted by some agents covering our backs.

At least no rotten tomatoes were tossed.

 I recognized the chief steward from the videophone call with Lee, waiting for us. He was impressive with his White House dinner uniform and service badges.

“Sir,” he said, bowing slightly to me and nodding to Jiggs and Joe, probably not having the slightest idea of their military standing, which was the general idea for tonight, after all.  As we trod through one corridor after another, he asked us if we’d care to join ‘Miss Melody, Lt. Numbers, and Captain 'Al' (which most staff were now calling him, short for Alien) for cocktails before dinner.

“Er, yes, thank you,” I replied for the three of us, then leaned over and whispered. “Lt. 'Numbers'? Captain Al?”

“Yes, sir. The president was weary of just calling them by there numerical names. So the nicknames. They're not offended at all."

“I see.”

“I don’t think the president could think of anything more appropriate for either of them.”

It wasn’t long before we found ourselves in one of the rooms, boasting a bar (with a staff bartender in attendance), leather chairs and an unlit fireplace.

“Ad-mir-ral Nel-son,” Melody said, seeing me, approaching, holding a cocktail of…something. She was wearing a shimmering floor length pink gown which suited her bluish complexion and pink hair.

“Good evening Miss Melody. May I introduce Jiggs Starke, and Joe Jackson,” avoiding any mention of rank.

She smiled at them sweetly.

“And may I in-tr-oduce Lt. Num-bers, and Captain Al, as your people have named him. Short for 'Alien' I believe, ” she giggled. "Your names for us are amusing."

The males were garbed in what looked like a form of alien dress uniform. Highly polished metal bands adorned the almost ancient Roman style of short tunics and chest plates  decorated with jewels of some sort.

The captain and Lt. nodded politely.

Neither had a drink in their hands.

“We would sample your al…al-co-hol-ic beverages,” the captain explained, “but it is best we keep our…our wits a-bout us tonight. As a military man, you can un-der-stand. Yes, we know what you all are. But feel free to sample our…Mur,” he added, indicating the flasks on the bar that they must have brought from his spaceship.

Melody nodded to the bartender to pour some out for me.

“It will only in…in-e-bri-ate  if one has too much.”

“Same as our stuff,” Jiggs said. “Gin, with ice,” he added to the bartender. “How about you, Jackson? Which galaxy would you like to drink from tonight?”

“I’ll pass on both.”

I took a sip of the alien booze.

“Delightful,” I lied, raising my glass. It tasted a little similar to Grecian Ozo, but also like you'd expect  fermented frogs to tastes like.

“Ad-mi-ral,” Captain 'Al' asked, interrupting my musing, “you have assisted the com…comm-i-tee. Can Earth ac-com-o-date our request?”

“We still have a lot to test and consider before we know for sure.”

“Under-stood,” he said and returned to examine a vase of flowers. I could hear them speaking in undertones with their metallic clicks and grunts.

The mantle clock above the fireplace ticked away. Where the hell was Lee?

“Any ill effects?” Jiggs whispered to me.

“Only to my taste buds,” I whispered back.

“Ah, finally,” he said as Lee appeared.

Lee was, as promised, in a white tuxedo, similar to mine, only he had a ruffled shirt and his cummerbund was red. He also had a red carnation. I was surprised he hadn’t worn the eye patch. But perhaps he chose not to in order for his prosthesis eyeball’s iris to be color coordinated.

“Good evening,” Lee said, “sorry to keep you waiting. “Good to see you again. Captain Al? Lt. Numbers told me you brought along some what is it you call it, …’Mur’? I’ll have mine with dinner. Speaking of which,” he added, rubbing his hands and extending his arm to Melody, “shall we? Buffet style. So we can all serve ourselves. I hope you’ll like the green bean casserole. Nothing special but one of my favorites.”

Lee and Melody led our group to the family dining room. The  aliens pushed their way past Jiggs and me to follow right behind them. I had to admit to myself I felt a bit put out. But this was more a ‘family dinner’ than a state affair, so I'd better forget about protocol. Besides, technically, as VIP's of a sort, they did have precedence. 

The family dining room was bigger and more well appointed than I’d have thought it would be. On one of the antique buffet tables, there was a cornucopia of favorite American dishes. Far more than a party of six could possibly consume. But perhaps the chef had insisted, hoping to show off, even if some of the dishes would hardly be served to most White House guests.

In addition to the cheese and fruit platter, there was Indian Corn Pudding and the aforementioned Green Bean Casserole. Also Roast Beef, Asparagus with Hollandaise Sauce and Roast Turkey with dressing and gravy. Jellied Cranberry Sauce (Lee must have insisted), Cranberry Salad with Marshmallows and Fruit Cocktail (again, Lee must have pressured the chef to make the grandmotherly dish).  There were also raw oysters and tail on Shrimp. And for dessert, apple pie and chocolate brownies.

I could only imagine what Chip, stuck minding the Seaview, would think of the menu. Probably drool all over the deck. That is until I saw the alien fare.

The pastel food disks looked harmless enough, but the  live worms and a chartreuse mush of some sort didn't look too appetizing. 

Lee and Melody selected a few different items from each other’s planets to begin with and we all followed suit to be polite.

“Er,” Lee began after we were all seated, he at the head of the table, Melody on his right, the captain on his left, “it’s a custom of many of us to thank God for our blessings…”

“What is G-od?” the captain asked.

“How do I explain. He who created us, and the universe.”

“Ah, the Great Spirit. Yes. Let us give thanks for our being…alive.”

“And fed,” Starke said.

I can’t say that I actually prayed when our heads were bowed. I spent most of the few seconds sneaking looks at the aliens, and they, I noticed, doing the same toward Lee.  Only Lee, Melody and Joe seemed to actually praying or meditating or thinking.

After the moment of silence, Melody took one of the worms off Lee’s plate with her fingers and fed it to him, giggling. In return, he took a spear of asparagus off of hers and did likewise to her.

I wasn’t the only one with a raised eyebrow at that little act of intimacy. In fact, I could see her father’s veins throbbing on one side of his  protruding forehead. On both sides of the Lt.'s

Lee and Melody had considered the flavors in their mouths, but as much as they wanted to continue chewing and swallow politely, neither made it, quickly disposing their  mouthfuls into their napkins.

“I’m sorry,” both said to each other at the same time, apologetic and embarrassed. But Melody began to giggle, followed by Lee and soon the couple had dissolved into hearty laughter.

“Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea,” Lee finally said. “I’ll order more apples and brownies. Melody and Numbers already tried them earlier. No problem with those."

“A dinner of both worlds was a dip-lo-mat-ic idea,” Melody’s father said. “I will sam-ple…more.”

“As we all will,” I said, but none of us, save the aliens tried any of the worms. We managed to be diplomatic with the mush and food disks. Followed by glasses of Mur. And the aliens managed to consume a little of the green bean casserole and corn pudding followed by both cranberry dishes, which  of those foods tried, they liked.

They had said no to the meats, being vegetarian, we found out.

Our duty to sharing done, we gratefully resorted to consume the foods of our own worlds.

I couldn’t help noticing as the meal progressed that Melody had been acting a bit motherly to Lee, wiping his mouth with his new napkin on occasion, especially when he spilled some more Mur on himself, but he hadn’t looked bothered about it.  He wasn’t bothered about anything.

“Powerful stuff that Mur,” Jiggs said.

“My daughter did warn him,” Captain 'Al' said, "would it be im-po-lite to take my leave  now?”

“No problem,” Jiggs said, “I’ll escort you out.”

“Nel-son, will you give the pres-i-dent my thanks for an…in-ter-est-ing evening?”

“Of course,” I said.

He added something in his own metallic tones to Melody who barely acknowledged him. Apparently she was finding it more appealing to run her hand through Lee’s hair and sing to him.

“She has also had too much Mur,” he said shaking his head. “I apologize for her silliness. Tell her that she will return to my ship tomorrow, before she embarrasses us further. I will go now. The Lt. will remain now that he has a better grasp of your language. We assimilate knowledge quickly.”

“Of course, Captain,” I said with a slight bow of the head.

I suppose the White House staff was used to inebriated guests, and perhaps even presidents at times, but I knew the shit was going to hit the fan if the press got wind of this. So I did the only thing I could.

I lied to the staff, some of whom were waiting just outside the dining room doors, telling them that the president felt ill and that Mr. Starke and I would take care of him, if they’d just point the way to his  bedroom.

"Lt.," I said, "I'll leave taking care of Miss Melody to you."

"As you wish."

One lie down, another to go, I thought to myself as Joe and I put Lee to bed. He was barely conscious and singing La La’s from the tune he'd shared with Melody. I was glad he hadn't exactly shared where that tune had come from, especially since he'd learned the coded message from a beautiful secret agent. 

 I’d seen Lee drunk before but not like this.

“I’ll sit up with him,” I told Joe. “You go see how Melody’s doing. Though I’m sure the Lt. is handling it.”

It wasn’t long before both Joe and Jiggs returned. 

“Our guest safely away?”

“Yes," Jiggs said.

"You'll be glad to know," Joe said, "that the Lt. asked the staffers for a female to assist Melody to bed.”

“Lee’s going to be devastated about this evening.”

“Price one has to pay for a moment of indiscretion. I’m surprised," Joe said. "He knew the stuff was dynamite…for awhile I thought he was faking drinking the stuff. An old spy trick…but…I guess it got the better of him…want me to call a cab for us now?”

“Not for me. You and Jiggs go ahead.”

“There’s nothing you can do for him right now," Jiggs said.

“What I can do, old friend, is to be here for him when we wakes up.”

“He doesn’t need a nursemaid.”

“No, but he will need a friend when he remembers or what happened tonight.”

“Well, be sure you’re out of the line of fire.”

I laughed as Jiggs gave me a mock salute and left along with Joe.

“Har..Harry?” Lee called and hiccupped. “She….soooo…sweet….sooo sweet…”

“Yes, son, Melody is a delightful girl.”

“She's a melody…La la la, la la lah…La…”

“Lee…Lee, no need to sing now…go to sleep…”

“Sleeeep…”

“That’s right, sleep,” I said gently and twisted the prostheses out of its socket, and looked around for the glass jar of cleaning solvent, only to find it handed to me by Edwards who must have come in while I wasn't too observant.

“Thanks,” I said and deposited it the jar with barely a splash. "You didn’t see this, Edward,” I said.

“No need to tell me that he's...ill, sir. From something he ate.”

“Ours or theirs?” I asked, in full conspiracy.

“Better make it ours,” I said. “We don’t want to scare the public with alien food and drink.”

And so I squirmed in my chair and dimmed the light, keeping an eye on Lee as he drifted off into his slumbers.

I had to wonder just what kind of hangover he’d have tomorrow. And if there was a cure for it.