Plop Plop, Fizz Fizz

By Bonnie Maisen

It smelled like apricot. Actually, more like an apricot that had been left on the counter for a month, and then shoved in the corner of the fruit drawer, where ethylene gas had rotted a month’s worth of produce.

Dr. Daniel Leslie stood in the science building at Blaylock University after receiving a phone call from Dean Franco. An odd smell was emanating from the science building. No students would be allowed to enter until it was gone. The new semester was supposed to begin in two days, and the school couldn’t afford any more bad press.

A couple weeks ago, an inventory check had revealed three missing bottles of ethanol. Reporters immediately jumped on the story, speculating about drug rings and secret experiments on students. The parade of bad publicity threatened both the enrollment numbers and Dan’s job.

Since then, his brain had been locked in a never-ending dance of fear and determination. One minute he was fiendishly preparing lesson plans for the new class of freshmen, the next he sat paralyzed worrying about the evaluations those same students would be giving at the end of the semester. Any mistakes this year could cost him his position.

And doing a favor for the dean couldn’t hurt.

Dan patted his messenger bag, smiling to himself as he reached inside. His eyes gleamed as he pulled out the E-sniffer. His crowning achievement. The odor analyzer could tell him the exact chemical makeup of hundreds of thousands of smells. He switched it on, ready to put this issue, and himself, to rest.

“Odor unknown.”

Dan frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It hadn’t happened before. He tried again. Same result.

Now curious, he switched the E-Sniffer to detect particle concentration and followed the smell through the main hallway, past the classrooms, labs, and the professors’ offices toward the back of the chemistry wing.

Chemical storage.

He opened the door—and gagged. On the floor was a pile of sludge. A small pile, considering the smell. What was it? The E-Sniffer still read “Odor unknown.”

A sound startled him—like two cats fighting in a vat of gelatin.

He looked up from the sludge pile just in time to see a new gob drop from the gaping air duct. The vent cover was missing. What in the…?

His heart raced. But he couldn’t leave now. More than once, he’d told his students that fear of the unknown was nothing more than willful ignorance. He got a step ladder and a flashlight. As soon as he shone the light inside, another blob of sludge came oozing down from the left-hand duct. It landed in the pile below with a sizzle.

The noise came again, louder this time, just as a head peered out from the duct. A hairy, orange head, with five bulging eyes and fangs at least four inches long.

Dan screamed and stumbled off the ladder, barely managing to keep to his feet. Shaking, he backed into the corner of the chemical storage room.

He had to call someone. The police? Would they believe him? They certainly would if they saw it. But the idea of staying here to make certain it didn’t leave was more than he could bear. He put his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming.

“I say, sir, could you possibly assist me?”

Dan’s eyes widened. He lowered his hand. Was this thing… talking to him? Maybe willful ignorance was underrated. He took a step toward the door.

But if he left now, the smell would still be there, and the students couldn’t come back. “What?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“So sorry about that. I forgot to switch on my translator. I’m afraid my native tongue is quite different from yours. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Wha… Who are you?” No need to be rude to the monster.

“My name is”—an apparently untranslatable squelching noise—“but you may call me… Jeff. Yes, I quite like Jeff.”

“Okay. Jeff.” Dan rubbed his eyes. This was a dream. A dream, or a psychotic break. He preferred dream.

“I’m on an intergalactic cruise, and your quaint little planet was one of our excursions. I was on my way back to the rendezvous point two weeks ago when I smelled something heavenly coming from this building. When I investigated, I found several bottles full of a most exquisite beverage. It’s like what you Terrans call wine. I must confess that I started to put it in my pack when I heard voices coming down the hallway. I climbed up into the vent to hide, but while I was there, I thought I might as well have a drink. Calm the nerves, you know.”

“Naturally.” Dan’s voice shook. The missing ethanol.

“Quite. I ended up drinking all three bottles. The problem is that this chemical has a slightly different structure here than it does on my planet, and I’ve had a bit of… well, a reaction. The body that fit snugly into this air vent has now nearly doubled in size, and I’m afraid I’m stuck.”

Dan took a cautious step. “What do you need me to do?”

Jeff, a scientist himself, explained the chemical process that could deflate him. As the two talked shop, Dan became less frightened of the orange hairy alien. Dan prepared the formula for what Jeff called a Blorzian antacid and Jeff, fascinated by the E-Sniffer, gave him some new refinements to consider.

After a great deal of fizzing and a rather malodorous belch, Jeff had shrunk enough to be extricated and helped Dan clean up the rather unfortunate mess that he had made. Two weeks stuck in a vent had led to some predictable issues.

School started on time, but this semester was a bit less stressful for Dr. Leslie. After all, if he could deal with drunken aliens and their byproducts, he could take anything Dean Franco and a new class of freshmen could throw at him.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bonnie Maisen is a fantasy fiction writer, homeschooling mom of three, and practice manager for a group counseling practice. She spends her spare time (Ha!) singing karaoke, playing D&D with her family, and acting in community musical theater.

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