The Adventures of Tex & Blae-Lok – 2

I noticed that “Blae-Lok” was speaking much better now, better than before, and I thought, “I wonder if …” Just then, Blae-Lok’s “wife” stirred, shook her head and glanced up at me. She started buzzing loudly while backing away toward the window that looked out over our private lake. I had left it open a small crack to get some fresh air and there was a small tear in the screen from a bird that had chased something into it and missed some weeks ago. Blae-Lok, still hanging in the air, saw where she was heading and shouted to me, “Quickly, shut the widow! I don’t think she can fly yet, and if she gets out, she could fall into that kiddie pool below and drown!”

I did as he asked and he flew to his wife’s side. He spoke quietly, reassuringly to her in some foreign, June Bug tongue. Her eyes, though I could not see them — they’re very very tiny — darted between Blae-Lok and me, or her head did. Slowly, she began to relax. Her wings, which had shot out at right angles, dropped close to her sides. At last she rolled over and got to her feet. I noticed then that there was a hole, smoking slightly, about the size of a quarter where she had lain! “Wow, I thought, and noticed it was slowly expanding. Then the female buzzed something to Blae-Lok I could not understand; it was a very female buzz. Blae-Lok nodded at her and turned to me.

“Sir,” he said, Por-Ke thanks you deeply for saving her life. She cannot speak to others. Only the males of our species can do that. Wives can speak only to their mates and their offspring, until they mature.”

“No problem, I … wait. Your wife’s name is ‘Porky?’” I asked. My head filled with images of pantless pigs. I shook it fiercely. “Re..repida..really?” I said with a stammer that stammered with no help from sanity. Am I really hearing this? I wondered.

“What’s wrong with That?” he bristled.

“Oh, nothing. It’s … very beautiful.” I managed not to smirk, and bowed to her instead. “It was nothing, Mrs. Porky. I am honored.”

“We do not use terms like ‘Mrs’ “ said Blae-Lok. She is ‘Wife, 2^nd of 13.’ I am blessed.”

“That’s one word for it,” I said quietly. I crossed my arms. “Sooo, what do we do now?” Porky was on her feet and seemed nervous, anxious to leave. I didn’t blame her. She kept glancing at the hole she had made, now the size of a half dollar and still growing.

“We must go. There is a meeting of our tribe and we are tasked with providing refreshments.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh? Anything I can help with?” Then perking up I added, “We have some very good honey in the cupboard!”

Blae-Lok grimaced. “Please, Tex. We are not bees. We are the MIGHTY PHYLOPHAGA POTENTIATOR, TEXAS TRIBE! SECOND TO NO OTHER INSECT IN THE WORLD!” I thought I saw his chest puff out, if he had one. But I did see his wings vibrate impressively. Porky looked anxious to leave, too.

And so I escorted them back to the old oak and bade them safe trip. I watched as they flew off to the west to attend their important meeting. Now what could June Bugs possibly meet about? I mused.

It would not be long before I found out. But  as I turned to trot back to the house — and survey the gigantic hole in my imported plywo, er, mahogany table, I did not see their stealthy return to my oak.

———————————————————————————-

June was halfway gone and I had not forgotten my tiny new friends, but I had other things on my mind now. This summer was proving to be brutal. It was already so hot the sidewalks were beginning to blister. A bit hotter than a usual summer, but not unknown nor unexpected. We had been warned, after all, by the people who should know which way the heat was going to blow. It was the politicians who had disputed their warnings and tsk tsked them all the way to the voting booth. The people, of course, had little patience with those who gave them bad news. It is much more pleasant to agree with someone who says you are beautiful than with someone who tells you your ears are too big, even when you constantly trip over your lobes.

Of course,t the heat wave had disappeared now and coolness enveloped my ranch; I was moseying through the pasture of my golf course in the back forty — no, eighty acres — where the cows were busy trimming the fairway before the photographers were scheduled to arrive for the unveiling of my statue, carved by the President himself with his toenails, when the ground began to shake violently  …

“Tex! Tex!” my wife screamed as she shook me awake, “Get up, get up! Someone is in the house!”

“Oh, it must be the President,” I mumbled, “to do a little touch-up on my ears.”

Lor…gosa stopped for a moment, then pounded on my back as I tried to roll away. “Get up get up get up, you lazy XXXXX!” she screamed, “SOMEBODY’S IN THE HOUSE!”

“ W…wha…?” I mumbled. My eyes tried to open but the cows were standing on them.

“Damn it, RRRR,,,alphagon! Get the hell up or I’m going to stuff garbanzo beans up your nose again!”

“I’m up!” She had done that once before when I had stumbled home, er, come home dru, er, ‘tipsy’ one night and threw, uhh, SPILLED my … oatmeal on her FACE, hahahaha! I was suddenly wide awake. Garbanzo beans? One of them had gotten so far up there the paramedics had to use extra-long tweezers to get it out.

”I’m up I’m up I’m up!” I sounded a little nasally because I had both hands clamped firmly over my nose. “What’s going on? Did you say someone was in the house?”

“Yes!” she wailed in a strange whisper. Or whispered in a strange wail? Boy, writing is hard! “ Yes, someone is in here! I just …” And a light came on down the hall in the mudroom.

“Somebody’s in my office!” I whispered, still groggy from all the piña colada’s I had consumed while partying with Marilyn Monroe …

“I told you!” Lor…custs’ claws were digging into the flesh of my shoulders. “Do something, you useless piece of XXXXXX!! Iim going to XXXXX your XXXXX and XXXXX your XXXXX!!” No children should read that! No sentient beings should read that!

I was shaking from the, uh, chill that swept through me. Perhaps a cold front had blown through unexpectedly, and stalled in the mud…dy, muddy office from all those cows … who turned on the light? I shook my head. Still some cobwebs in there.

Then that light blazed down the hall and back again! Then down the hall, then back — “What the hell?” I muttered. I reluctantly slid from the bed, slipped on my, well, slippers, and as quietly as possible, shuffled down the hall. I grabbed the broken pool cue that lived behind the bedroom door for emergencies such as this, reached the mu …, okay, mudroom! It was the damn mudroom, all right? Geeze, can’t a thing be two things?

The light in there was moving again! I made it to the door and peeked in. The bare ceiling light bulb that swung toward me on a thin, worn cord stopped and waited for me to make the next move! I rubbed my tired eyes and stuck my head just enough through the open doorway to see who was inside — and OH MY GOD! It was empty.

I cautiously stepped into that emptiness — not saying I was scared, but the hair on the back of my neck had risen and danced the boogaloo down my spine, all the way through my uh, special underwear. I glanced around, my broken pool cue held high.

“Please put down the stick.” The voice was soft, but I recognized it.

I straightened and released a massive sigh. An animated character which I will not name peeked out of my butt crack and I tiptoed to my rickety table — um, my workbench. The one with a new sh, uh, pl, uh, uh — okay, sheet of plywood for a top! 

“Blae-Lok?” I whispered. “”Is that you? Where are you?” I looked under the bench and thought for a moment that I saw him, but it was only a small scortch mark on the linoleum floor. I turned toward the entry, and from the corner of my eye, caught movement higher up, near the bare bulb. Blae-Lok peered back warily; his fluttering wings kept him in place, a wonderful, tiny, living helicopter! I quickly lowered my “stick” and leaned it against the doorjamb. “What are you doing here? You scared the bejesus out of Lorrrrr…cus.”

“I have news.” said Blae-Lok as he fluttered down to the bench.

“Rxxxxxxxx!” came from my bedroom. And yes, that’s my real name and that’s why it’s crossed out. I’m not stupid, just paranoid.

“Everything’s okay, sweetie puss!” I yelled down the hall. “Some kind of critter found it’s way in and made a little mess but I cleaned it all up , so all is well and nobody else is here, and I’ll check all the doors and windows in a bit just to be safe so don’t worry everything is fiiiine!” Wow! I was completely out of breath and sucked in sweet air harder than an orca who had overslept on the bottom of the Mariana Trench then burst through the final foot of ocean above with a mighty “UNNNNHGGICK”. I shook my head and sat upon my lavishly upholstered uh, … stool. I was admiring my oceanic metaphor when Blae-Lok interrupted.

“You lied to her.” said Blae-Lok. “Why did you do that? How did you do that?” He jumped up on my right hand, which rested on the bench, then crawled up my index finger.

“Wh … uh, how? Well, I just opened up my mouth and said something untrue. Don’t you ever do that?” I pointed my finger skyward and Blae-Lok scaled it to the tip and sat.

“No” said my quizzical bug, “We can’t do that.” He thought for a moment. “At least, I’ve never tried. It never occurred to me. But why did you do it?” He crept down my finger to the back of my hand, then turned swiftly with a buzzing sound, and fluttered his wings madly. “Never mind all that! We don’t have time for that! I have to brief you then get back to my tribe and my wife and our twelve children!”

“Twelve children?” I said surprised. I thought of Groucho Marx. “Wow, I nev…”

“THAT DOESN’T MATTER!” he buzzed loudly. I was afraid that Lor…ganza had heard it and would come rushing back down the hall to see whatever was going on that she was not made a part of (she hates being left out). I leaned back enough to see down the hall and gave it a quick glance.

“All quiet on the Lor…damighty front.” And suddenly, I was very tired. Surely it must be about 4 AM by now. I yawned hugely, then looked down at my tiny guest.

“Can’t this at least wait ‘til I’ve had my morning coffee?” I said half of that through another mighty yawn. “I was having a wonderful dream where…”

“NO!” Shouted Blae-Lok, and it really was much louder this time. I tried a fake sneeze to cover it just in case Lor…lantita was still awake. “This cannot wait, human!” I was a little startled that he addressed me so. He had always called me “Tex,” and had never been short with me.

“Uh, O … okay.” I stumbled and moved my stool even closer to the small table. “What’s uh, what’s going on, Blae-Lok?” I whispered. I was incredibly nervous. I absently picked up a pencil and twiddled it.

Blae-Lok narrow-eyed my pencil. “Please put down the stick.”

I glanced at my hand in surprise. “That? That’s just my pencil. I write with it.”

Blae-Lok cocked his carapace* and said quietly, “A thing can be more than one thing. A thing can do more than one thing.”

I took the pencil, an end in each hand, and held it up for him to see. Then I broke it. “And now,” I said, “this thing is good for no thing,”

Blae-Lok sighed sardonically. “Oh, joy,” he said. “A pun. How cleaver of you.”

“Hey! I’m not cleaver! I’ve never been cleaver!”

Blae-Lok sighed again, jumped atop my hands and squatted there, ready, it seemed, for a long talk.

And talk he did. I learned much about the past – – and what would be the future, if we were not very careful. And that started with the now.

“Remember that big oak tree where you first found me?” said Blae-Lok.

“Of course,” I said. “The most beautiful tree on my la, uh … my lot, I sighed. No use pretending with him. He knew better and would have no patience with my fantasies. 

“Of course I remember. What about it?”

“It won’t be here much longer,” my bug friend said with what must be truth. After all, didn’t Blae-Lok say he couldn’t lie? Then a thought hit me. No, he didn’t say that. He said he didn’t know how to lie. A sudden chill ran up my spine and I squirmed a little on my stool, then jumped up and knocked it backwards; it fell to the floor with a big, clattering sound that drew Lor…delphia down the hall to us. She peeked in, clutching her nightgown close.

“What’s going on in here?” she shouted. “What happened? Are you okay?” Her eyes darted around the room, but she failed to see Blae-Lok, who had a death grip on the back of my right hand.

“I’m fine, nothing’s wrong. I just got tangled in my stool for a moment.” She looked at the supposedly offending object, panned around the room and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“Okaaay,” she said slowly. Then she bristled suddenly and her nose was a gnat’s butt from mine, her eyes were darts, and her hands were on her hips. “What the hell are you doing in here?” she demanded. “What was that sound we heard earlier? And how did the light in here come on if nobody was here?” She shouted . She had suddenly become “Lorzilla,” a name I used sometimes when we were alone, just not together, yet I always said it quietly.

“Uhhhh, I was just sitting here, Sweetie Knees, listening for any noises that might be … noisy. You know, to make sure there was nobody here that shouldn’t be … here. And the light? Uh, a …short!, yes, just a short, I think, you know? I’ll fix it in the morning.”

She squinted her hazel eyes at me. Her eye brows were large, furry brown caterpillars, and the left one had this wild grey hair with a life of its own. If we had been any closer, I’m sure it would have poked me in the eye. I leaned backwards just in case, turned, and placed my left hand lightly over the right one where Blae-Lok rested. I felt him flatten out. Lor…dy looked down at them. “What do you have there?” she demanded.

“Oh, nothing, just a little itch.” I felt Bla-Lok turn over and grab the palm of my left hand. I understood his ruse immediately and raised both hands, the fingers spread, the backs turned toward my nosey wife. I smiled. “See?” Then I turned my hands so she could see the palms and waggled my fingers. “Nothing there, either.” Blae-Lok had quickly scuttled up my arm and under the sleave of my Rick and Morty pajamas.

Lorzilla harrumphed, turned on her heel and marched back to the bedroom. I laughed — very quietly — and looked down my sleeve, smiling. “All clear, she’s gone,” I said softly.’ Blae-Lok buzzed, flew out, and landed on the table. I sat on my stool once more and gave him my right hand; he resumed his fleshy perch again and said, “Good. I don’t think she’s ready for this.”

‘No. She’d squash you for sure, first chance she got.”

“I would not like that.”

“No, I wouldn’t think so. I’ll do my best to keep you safe, but you should be on your guard. She can be vicious when she wants to. I once saw her scare the hair right off a Rottweiler. Baaad News.”

“I would have liked to see that. A Rottweiler ate my first brother.”

“Eeew! That’s terrible.”

“My fourth brother flew into the Rottweiler’s ear, dug in and buzzed him crazy. It wasn’t very pretty. He finally flew back out and the dog ran in circles barking like mad. Some people with big nets came and took him away. They never brought him back.” I couldn’t see Blae-Lok’s mouth, but I was sure he was smiling. Then he sat up on his rear legs and sighed. “We really need to finish our conversation.”

“Why don’t we go out to the oak tree. I think you would be more comfortable there  — and safer.” I glanced toward the bedroom. “And so would I. Just let me get my slippers.”

“I’ll see you there,” said my buggy friend, and he zipped to the hole in the window screen and was gone.

I hurried to meet him.

END CHAPTER TWO