The Layover

By Taylor Nicolle

Of all the places to be stuck during a layover, he’d been told Earth had to be the worst.

But Garxlix had once spent a Galactic Center year on the gas planet Murlkoqluq waiting for a connecting flight. This was just eighteen Earth hours.

Though he would have rather waited at the landing area for his connecting flight, the attendant suggested he explore the city to avert suspicion of locals from being in one place for so long. Well, it was his first time on Earth. It couldn’t be as bad as his mother’s stories.

He slinked through the crowds gathered at Pike Place Market in Seattle. The lip of his complimentary human-shell disguise curled as the grimy smell of the dark Earth beverage irritated him. Just the coffee stench alone was making him itch. His fingers, all five of them now, twitched as he resisted the urge to scratch under all the clothing. Undergarments, trousers, undershirt, overshirt, and another loose cover on top. What was the purpose of so many layers? Did the humans not feel as constrained as he did under several pounds of fabric?

Of course, his ship had to land at the Needle, where baristas were more prevalent than pesky sliths during hive season. Why did he have to inherit his mother’s allergy to coffee beans?

At least the cloud cover was soothing to his sensitive eyes, but the ever-present odor of putrid fish overpowered the coffee and nearly made him gag. Glancing ahead, Garxlix saw humans pressed around a long counter filled with ice and various aquatic creatures… all dead. Ugh. He clenched his fists to repress the shudder that threatened to consume him, more than thankful to be an herbivore.

And the sound! So many humans talking at once. They had to be the loudest and most intentionally chaotic creatures in the galaxy.

Quickening his pace, Garxlix skirted the crowd, hastened down the road, and turned a corner. Instantly, the number of people dropped to zero. The asphalt path changed to older cobblestone that angled downward. And though the street was wide enough for two cars to drive side-by-side, there wasn’t a single vehicle present. Buildings on both sides cast the road in dark shadow… and a glance at a sign farther down identified it as Ghost Alley.

Bah. Humans and their superstitions.

A breeze blew down the alley, caught his jacket, and swirled it around his head. Then the temperature dropped ten degrees. Garxlix stilled as the breeze disappeared. He adjusted his jacket back into its original position and shuddered.

The alley ended in a left turn, and the sign from earlier was above a door in the corner: Ghost Alley Espresso. Yay, another coffee shop. The one good thing about the human disguise was the ability to roll his eyes. Humans were among the most expressive species in existence.

After passing the espresso shop, he took a moment to shake, trying to alleviate his allergic reaction, worsening with each second he spent on the miserable planet. Once more, his lip curled. On both sides of the alley were walls of gum—used gum. Hardly an inch of brick could be seen between the saliva-sodden, time-crusted balls of disgust.

Though, it was colorful. There were blues, greens, purples, oranges, and some other colors… Yeah, that wasn’t gum.

Garxlix spun to head back to the ship’s waiting area and almost plowed into a man. The human had ragged gray hair, unkempt beard, and baggy clothes.

The man leaned into Garxlix’s personal space. “Want some ice?” He slurred the entire sentence as one word.

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“Come on.” The man scooted closer so his face was in Garxlix’s. His breath alone nearly had Garxlix gagging. “You want some chalk?”

Garxlix leaned back, trying to find air that didn’t smell like the inside of a trash can. “No?”

The man offered crystal next, swaying in his spot.

Garxlix said no again.

The man kept offering different, random items, advancing with each step Garxlix took backward.

His back collided with the wall behind him. Even through all the clothes, he could feel each individual glob of gum, and it took everything in him to not cringe.

Yet the man kept closing in, swaying and slurring his words. When the man’s face stood still for a moment, Garxlix noted his eyes were dilated and wouldn’t stop moving.

Garxlix’s shoulders fell. He had seen those same symptoms before when his seventeenth brother had chugged Shlothlots—highly illegal and ill-advised. The young one was not in his right mind for the three days that followed the event.

Garxlix sighed, his eyes darting to the side. “I’m waiting for…”

“You’re waiting for someone better, huh?” The man’s voice rose as his face reddened. “Waiting for someone better than me? Well, go on then. Go see them.”

He staggered past Garxlix, then turned back to release a string of expletives and insults, at least what could be understood through the slurring. Who knew Earth’s language was so… creative?

When the man was out of sight, Garxlix heaved another sigh and headed back toward the so-called Space Needle to wait for his connecting flight. Better to wait in boredom than be accosted again.

He pushed through a ring of people at the fish stall he had passed earlier, and grimaced at two men shouting at each other. Could it get any worse?

A cold, heavy object smacked into his head. And when he looked down, amid the howling laughter around him, a dead fish rested beside his foot.

The two men started shouting again, then began to toss another fish back and forth.

That settled it, Garxlix swore to himself. He was never setting foot back on Earth, even if his life depended on it.

The smell of coffee barreled into him again. Yep, he would need more allergy meds.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Taylor Nicolle lives with her dog, Nugget, who she lovingly calls her ever-ready-energizer-piranha. When she’s not writing, or daydreaming about writing, she’s most likely pursuing one of her many hobbies and interests. Griffins will forever be her favorite fantasy creature. Her favorite stories always have some element of whimsicalness in them.

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