STAR CHOW
It was a bright and stormy night and,
in fact, a little *too* bright, as Saccharose Prime went nova,
crisping its inner six planets and shattering the orbital integrity
of the outer gas giants, causing the Glorp People of Sacc 9 to
reschedule their annual garden party for the middle of winter,
reducing the autumnal equinox on Froompa (Sacc 12) to emerging
on alternate leap years, and moving Halloween into mid summer
on Boo (Sacc 8), to the delight of young Booians forevermore,
but leaving the merchants of Ka-Ching (Sacc 7) with nowhere to
put their white sales, and what a ruckus they made about that.
As dire as these inconveniences were, they were as a ripple in
the transmission fluid of a Komatsu drag-line compared to the
horrific consequences for Sacc planets 1 thru 6, now burnt and
steaming to their molten cores and rendering the inhabitants thereof
an unbearable fondu-like existence where tidal waves of magma
and lava avalanches woefully impacted the skiing, ice-fishing,
and snow-blowing industries, driving them into Chapter 11.
Yes, the Filbertines of Sacc 1, Citroos of Sacc 2, Branians of
Saccs 3 and 4, Molassers of Sacc 5, and Cherrites of Sacc 6 came
to realize that mere modifications of this new environment was
insufficient for their well-being, nay, even survival as ambulatory
Sterno stoves, and with painful, albeit stern, resolve, they set
forth upon a plan to ensure the continuity of their various species
and hastened to seek more temperate climes that did not involve
being encased in liquid nitrogen just to walk the family dog (e.g.,
its equivalent, the most popular breed of which looked much like
a Furby crossed with Fox Mulder, and consistently took Best of
Show at the Casseopean Kennel Club Exhibition).
To this end the assembled Inner Saccharosians pooled their remaining
non-liquified resources and constructed myriad womb-like and sturdy
space-faring pods, capable of sustaining and protecting whole
tribes in reasonable comfort (involving the retaining of HBO but
the deprivation of ESPN), veritable wonders of the cosmic voyager's
craft. Leaving their home planets, the coming loss, the unknown,
was faced boldly with hope, their faith in the tickings and turnings
of the universe unshakeable in its grace and opportunities, as
we humans feel secure in the eternal and ubiquitous tenacity of
William Shatner or Florida recounts, the Saccharosians girded
their collective loins (e.g., its equivalent, resembling the effort
involved in stuffing a convulsive rhino into a bunny slipper),
and set upon the task of searching the galaxies for a peaceful
and stormless port upon a far distant celestial shore.
The launch went without incident, save the Cherrites forgetting
to pack the Playstation, and life in its more clement and expectant
forms prevailed as these pilgrims crossed the great voids, except
for the toll booth at Orion, which inconveniently backed up traffic
for a few eons, but allowed the purchase of local souvenirs such
as bumper stickers ("I {heart} NG39616 beta" and "I
brake for Sigourney Weaver") and t-shirts tailored to various
anatomies, stamped with portraits of Michael Rennie.
As anticipated, the hard vacuum and intense radiation of interstellar
space besieged the millions of pods mercilessly and constantly,
yet, with noble foresight and remaindered hard-back copies of
Danielle Steel's latest tome, the Inner Saccharosians had constructed
ablative shields and impenetrable hulls that kept them safe, though,
did manage to reduce the recreation quarters to the size of donuts,
and the voyagers, crammed together in their oblong ships, adapted
nicely by substituting pinochle matches for ballroom dancing.
It was a tight fit, yet bonhomie prevailed just the same.
Time passed. Ages were born and collapsed, millennia fled by until,
eventually and to the joyful fulfillment of every Saccharonian
desire, they found the ideal, the perfect, the welcoming planet
which was, of course, Earth. Lengthy and robust celebration ensued
as every new immigrant partook of their new home's bounty, including
ordaining Ygywynyth Paltrow as their patron saint, anointing Emmerich
and Devlin as minor gods, and crowning their family crests with
Babylon 5 starships. The Saccharosians terrestrial existence since
that time of landing has been placid and productive, but also
edifying and instructive.
It was not enough, you see, for them to merely share in munificence
with Earth's extant inhabitants (which required constant adjustment
as the indigenous fauna kept rapidly evolving), but to spread
happiness to others whenever possible by making themselves available
when local tasks of merit were undertaken, or vital masterpieces
were commissioned. For example, in ancient Egypt, impervious space
pods that couldn't be scratched with a diamond drill were packed
with Saccharonian engineers and formed the foundation of the immortal
pyramids. When hinged together, the pods formed the necessary
hermetic seal on Imhotep's sarcophagus, thrilling flesh eating
bugs for all time. The Parthenon of Greece, the colosseum of Rome,
the breakwaters off Malibu and even the blast doors at Roswell
were constructed from the hardy and perennial creatures, to our
benefit and enduring gratitude.
However, even these glorious donations did not satisfy them. To
feel completely at home, they wished to attain the exalted status
of being considered a beloved member of the human family, involving
more than just having their own domain name and a line of credit
at JPL, but actual recognition as cherished friends. And so began
the long and esteemed tradition of Saccharonian adoption, lo,
those many years ago, where each family member clasped in awe
to its collective chestal regions a space alien of its very own.
That long ago event was so portent in its enormity, that it has
developed, over time, its own ritual, where each generation handed
its precious crate of stellar creatures down to the next, ancestor
to ancestor, every year at Christmastide where, between the eggnog
and Uncle Frank passing out in the gas-log fireplace, before the
blessed children had managed to drive every adult within screeching
range to envision disemboweling the little darlings with implements
from My Little Pony's Abattoir and Glue Factory, the Saccharosian
was given a place of honor within the family's midst, and showered
with the quivering bewilderment and eerie admiration that was
their due, all assembled people within its warm, wise, and smiling
orbit, the hallmark of our worthy lineage, hurled forth from fire
and decay into beneficent immortality here on Earth.
Yes, how could we ever hope to acknowledge the debt we owe to
our amazing intergalactic friends, now a faultless and essential
part of our culture, a never to be denied nor surrendered presence?
And if you should ever doubt their importance, just consider that,
in the certitude of Saccharosian influence, that no less, the
2001 monolith was, indeed, a giant fruitcake.