Singing Pineapples Wear Red Trousers
It's the last day of Camp Nano and I still have 6K to go. Still, there are 9 hours until the deadline -- I can do that. (Even though I do have class this evening.)
I'll relate the full story of my Camp Nano adventure in a couple of days, once I get a chance to catch up on sleep and draw up some handy plot diagrams to illustrate just how far off the tracks this thing went. In the meantime, here's a one-shot I wrote for kicks (and wordcount) yesterday that takes place a couple of years after the actual story ends. It's based off a conversation I had with pencildragon and starbrow the other day in which we made fun of the fact that I tend to cameo ridiculous concepts in multiple stories (In this case, pineapples and red trousers).
Singing Pineapples Wear Red Trousers
Summary: It is Trevor's first time among an alien culture and he is determined not to mess things up. In which the title is essentially the punch line.
------
The meal takes place in a room shaped like a bowl, the benches circling the wall in tiers much like an amphitheatre. After everyone is seated - guests in a position of honour with the highest officials close to the centre of the room - a metal bar rises from the floor. Trevor wonders if a table surface is going to be supported on this bar but before he can lean over to ask Tertia, the head of the ceremony rises to his feet and raises his hands.
For aliens, the Rixloans look incredibly humanoid. They have two arms and two legs and a relatively normal face, even if the head is slightly more box-shaped than Trevor is used to. All are dressed in ceremonious clothes made of brightly dyed leathers. The head of ceremony himself almost seems to be clad in a rainbow, with a green-and-blue patterned shirt, violet sleeves, and crimson trousers.
“Today we meet in welcome of our guests from beyond the stars,” chants the head of ceremony. “Many thanks go out to you for this honour in joining us today.”
The training modules never covered how to react to a situation exactly like this one. Trevor wonders whether he’s going to be asked to sing, too. He’s fairly certain the Rixloans will throw him off the planet if he even attempts a single note.
The head of ceremony goes on at length about the gratitude the Rixloans have to be graced by the presence of their extraterrestrial visitors. Finally, he lifts his hands into the air and proclaims, “Let us now prepare for the feast we have before us today.”
Trevor is quite relieved, as this means he will not be expected to sing - at least before the food arrives. Following Tertia’s lead, he joins the rest of the room in raising his hands beside his head, palms facing back. With a slight hissing sound, bowls begin to slide along the metal bar, travelling the circumference of the circle before coming to a halt in front of each person. Trevor is curious about how the bowl is even attached to the bar in a way that allows it to slide but understands enough to know that to investigate now would be rude. So he waits, his hands held in the air until his arms begin to get sore.
When the last bowl has slid into place, the head of ceremony lifts his hands even further and drones, “Let us consume the feast that has been set before us all!”
Oh good, Trevor thinks. While he hadn’t been terribly hungry upon entering the room at the beginning of the ceremony, this has gone on long enough that he feels absolutely ravenous now. Still, he waits until the others in the room lower their hands to their laps before doing the same. When he glances at Tertia out of the corner of his eye, she gives him an encouraging look. Had they been alone together, she probably would tell him that he was doing very well, all things considered.
And then, finally, the head of ceremony lifts his own bowl and drinks from it. After a pause, the rest of the room does the same. Trevor fumbles to follow suit. He worries that there might be some mechanism he needs to unlatch from the metal bar, but it lifts easily. Definitely something to investigate later, he decides. For now, he concentrates on raising the bowl to his mouth to take a sip of the liquid.
He had been expecting a sort of broth, so when Trevor feels the fire of alcohol mixed with the curious taste of pineapples, he’s taken so off-guard that he almost chokes.
Tertia actually takes one hand to slap him on the back, which is embarrassing even if it does the trick. He blinks hard and tries to smile, his eyes watering from the shock. A few of the Rixloans notice but most are intent upon consuming their - well, he doesn’t even know what to call it. Broth, this certain is not. In fact, the closest comparison Trevor can draw is to wine. Pineapple wine, in particular, an entire bottle of which he had had the misfortune to consume alone in his youth.
Somehow, he finishes the drink and replaces the bowl on the metal bar along with the others. The head of ceremony, who has remained standing this entire time, sings an introduction to the second course as the bowls whisk around the circle and out of sight. A new set of bowls slides out to replace them. This time, Trevor is relieved to see actual food within the bowl, although there is no cutlery to be found.
The head of ceremony leads the room in consuming the contents of the bowl - all finger food pastries, apparently. Trevor is thankful he has no problems in regards to eating any of the course. In fact, the pastries are surprisingly tasty, even if the flavours can only be described as exotic. The course is then followed by another round of what Trevor starts to think of as pineapple wine. He hesitates but drinks this anyway -- even though he can feel a rush in his head at the consumption -- for fear of offending his hosts.
Four more courses slide along the metal bar, each followed by another drink of the pineapple wine. Trevor’s head is getting incredibly fuzzy by this point, and he actually has to concentrate on keeping his vision in focus.
It is on what he decides must be the dessert course that Trevor makes an important connection. The taste of pineapple is still in the back of his throat even as he lifts the bowl of what looks to be a green custard. He brings the bowl to his mouth and sips awkwardly at the custard, focusing carefully over the rim at the head of ceremony as he does so. And that is when the thought strikes him, so clear and sudden that he nearly chokes on his meal a second time that night.
The head of ceremony has a head shaped like a pineapple.
As Trevor continues to sip at the custard, he turns the idea over in his mind and realizes that all of the Rixloans have pineapple shaped heads. It is the type of sight that cannot be unseen; Trevor’s eyes flicker over the people gathered along the benches and sees rows upon rows of pineapples.
Their heads, after all, are longer than a human’s; their faces are more square. As their ears are similar to snakes -- a hole on either side of the head without any outward cartiledge -- there is nothing to interrupt the shape’s outline. Even their hair grows thick and collected in spikes reminiscent of the leaves that adorn the top of pineapple fruit.
And to top this all off, when Trevor replaces his bowl on the metal bar, it is immediately followed by another round of pineapple wine.
The head of ceremony lifts his hands once more. “We drink in thanks for the fruits of the land,” he chants, and that’s when Trevor completely loses control.
-X-
“What happened?” Trevor asks when he wakes up the next morning in the shuttle with a killer hangover.
Tertia turns and frowns. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”
The taste of pineapple lingers in the back of his throat and he almost gags. “I really can’t even think straight at the moment. Why are we in the shuttle?”
She crosses her arms and rolls all three eyes. “Because someone decided it would be a fantastic idea to crack jokes comparing our hosts’ heads to Earth fruit. It was not greatly appreciated.”
Trevor winces. “I did that?”
She groans and turns away again. “And please, never sing that song again. Never.”
He tries to sit up, realizes this is a bad idea, and almost loses the contents of his stomach. “What song? I don’t sing.”
“You did last night. Not that I could understand the lyrics at all. Why would someone live in a submerged pineapple anyway?”
I'll relate the full story of my Camp Nano adventure in a couple of days, once I get a chance to catch up on sleep and draw up some handy plot diagrams to illustrate just how far off the tracks this thing went. In the meantime, here's a one-shot I wrote for kicks (and wordcount) yesterday that takes place a couple of years after the actual story ends. It's based off a conversation I had with pencildragon and starbrow the other day in which we made fun of the fact that I tend to cameo ridiculous concepts in multiple stories (In this case, pineapples and red trousers).
Singing Pineapples Wear Red Trousers
Summary: It is Trevor's first time among an alien culture and he is determined not to mess things up. In which the title is essentially the punch line.
------
The meal takes place in a room shaped like a bowl, the benches circling the wall in tiers much like an amphitheatre. After everyone is seated - guests in a position of honour with the highest officials close to the centre of the room - a metal bar rises from the floor. Trevor wonders if a table surface is going to be supported on this bar but before he can lean over to ask Tertia, the head of the ceremony rises to his feet and raises his hands.
For aliens, the Rixloans look incredibly humanoid. They have two arms and two legs and a relatively normal face, even if the head is slightly more box-shaped than Trevor is used to. All are dressed in ceremonious clothes made of brightly dyed leathers. The head of ceremony himself almost seems to be clad in a rainbow, with a green-and-blue patterned shirt, violet sleeves, and crimson trousers.
“Today we meet in welcome of our guests from beyond the stars,” chants the head of ceremony. “Many thanks go out to you for this honour in joining us today.”
The training modules never covered how to react to a situation exactly like this one. Trevor wonders whether he’s going to be asked to sing, too. He’s fairly certain the Rixloans will throw him off the planet if he even attempts a single note.
The head of ceremony goes on at length about the gratitude the Rixloans have to be graced by the presence of their extraterrestrial visitors. Finally, he lifts his hands into the air and proclaims, “Let us now prepare for the feast we have before us today.”
Trevor is quite relieved, as this means he will not be expected to sing - at least before the food arrives. Following Tertia’s lead, he joins the rest of the room in raising his hands beside his head, palms facing back. With a slight hissing sound, bowls begin to slide along the metal bar, travelling the circumference of the circle before coming to a halt in front of each person. Trevor is curious about how the bowl is even attached to the bar in a way that allows it to slide but understands enough to know that to investigate now would be rude. So he waits, his hands held in the air until his arms begin to get sore.
When the last bowl has slid into place, the head of ceremony lifts his hands even further and drones, “Let us consume the feast that has been set before us all!”
Oh good, Trevor thinks. While he hadn’t been terribly hungry upon entering the room at the beginning of the ceremony, this has gone on long enough that he feels absolutely ravenous now. Still, he waits until the others in the room lower their hands to their laps before doing the same. When he glances at Tertia out of the corner of his eye, she gives him an encouraging look. Had they been alone together, she probably would tell him that he was doing very well, all things considered.
And then, finally, the head of ceremony lifts his own bowl and drinks from it. After a pause, the rest of the room does the same. Trevor fumbles to follow suit. He worries that there might be some mechanism he needs to unlatch from the metal bar, but it lifts easily. Definitely something to investigate later, he decides. For now, he concentrates on raising the bowl to his mouth to take a sip of the liquid.
He had been expecting a sort of broth, so when Trevor feels the fire of alcohol mixed with the curious taste of pineapples, he’s taken so off-guard that he almost chokes.
Tertia actually takes one hand to slap him on the back, which is embarrassing even if it does the trick. He blinks hard and tries to smile, his eyes watering from the shock. A few of the Rixloans notice but most are intent upon consuming their - well, he doesn’t even know what to call it. Broth, this certain is not. In fact, the closest comparison Trevor can draw is to wine. Pineapple wine, in particular, an entire bottle of which he had had the misfortune to consume alone in his youth.
Somehow, he finishes the drink and replaces the bowl on the metal bar along with the others. The head of ceremony, who has remained standing this entire time, sings an introduction to the second course as the bowls whisk around the circle and out of sight. A new set of bowls slides out to replace them. This time, Trevor is relieved to see actual food within the bowl, although there is no cutlery to be found.
The head of ceremony leads the room in consuming the contents of the bowl - all finger food pastries, apparently. Trevor is thankful he has no problems in regards to eating any of the course. In fact, the pastries are surprisingly tasty, even if the flavours can only be described as exotic. The course is then followed by another round of what Trevor starts to think of as pineapple wine. He hesitates but drinks this anyway -- even though he can feel a rush in his head at the consumption -- for fear of offending his hosts.
Four more courses slide along the metal bar, each followed by another drink of the pineapple wine. Trevor’s head is getting incredibly fuzzy by this point, and he actually has to concentrate on keeping his vision in focus.
It is on what he decides must be the dessert course that Trevor makes an important connection. The taste of pineapple is still in the back of his throat even as he lifts the bowl of what looks to be a green custard. He brings the bowl to his mouth and sips awkwardly at the custard, focusing carefully over the rim at the head of ceremony as he does so. And that is when the thought strikes him, so clear and sudden that he nearly chokes on his meal a second time that night.
The head of ceremony has a head shaped like a pineapple.
As Trevor continues to sip at the custard, he turns the idea over in his mind and realizes that all of the Rixloans have pineapple shaped heads. It is the type of sight that cannot be unseen; Trevor’s eyes flicker over the people gathered along the benches and sees rows upon rows of pineapples.
Their heads, after all, are longer than a human’s; their faces are more square. As their ears are similar to snakes -- a hole on either side of the head without any outward cartiledge -- there is nothing to interrupt the shape’s outline. Even their hair grows thick and collected in spikes reminiscent of the leaves that adorn the top of pineapple fruit.
And to top this all off, when Trevor replaces his bowl on the metal bar, it is immediately followed by another round of pineapple wine.
The head of ceremony lifts his hands once more. “We drink in thanks for the fruits of the land,” he chants, and that’s when Trevor completely loses control.
-X-
“What happened?” Trevor asks when he wakes up the next morning in the shuttle with a killer hangover.
Tertia turns and frowns. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”
The taste of pineapple lingers in the back of his throat and he almost gags. “I really can’t even think straight at the moment. Why are we in the shuttle?”
She crosses her arms and rolls all three eyes. “Because someone decided it would be a fantastic idea to crack jokes comparing our hosts’ heads to Earth fruit. It was not greatly appreciated.”
Trevor winces. “I did that?”
She groans and turns away again. “And please, never sing that song again. Never.”
He tries to sit up, realizes this is a bad idea, and almost loses the contents of his stomach. “What song? I don’t sing.”
“You did last night. Not that I could understand the lyrics at all. Why would someone live in a submerged pineapple anyway?”