QM 31 - "A kiss is still a kiss..."
31 - "A kiss is still a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh. The fundamental things apply as time goes by." - 'Casablanca'
What happens when a kiss isn't just a kiss? What happens when it turns out to decide the rest of your life?
See, on Earth, that scenario usually takes the form of Becky Sue Tuttle, a quick grope in the back seat of your Chevy and Becky Sue's father Joe Don holding a very big shotgun against your head as you say "I do". And if you replace Becky Sue Tuttle with a Sebacean princess, Joe Don with Scorpius and the shotgun with the lives and well-being of your friends, you get where this story is going.
I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?
Kiss. Make out. Play tonsil hockey. Snog. Mack. Suck face. Swap spit. All terms for the same thing. A lot of them kind of gross, but that's slang for you. It's pretty damn important in our culture, and on this one particular planet, it's The Big One.
Picture your neighborhood bar-slash-pickup joint. People are milling around, having drinks, a few laughs... and kissing everyone in sight. You see, these folks came up with a liquid that actually can actually determine whether two people are genetically compatible for creating offspring. And while just about any guy and any gal on Earth can theoretically do so, the same thing didn't go here. So if you were on the prowl, you carried around a little vial of the stuff and went to town. If it tasted bitter, then it meant no match. If it was sweet, then you were good to go forth and multiply.
Surprise, surprise, surprise, Aeryn and I were on the outs at the moment. That was more the default state at the time than anything else was. Aeryn said she didn't want to be a slave to my hormones. Chi said that it was because relationships were new to the ex-Peacekeeper, and it was spooking her bad. Whatever the problem was, I was getting brick walled every chance she got. And that's where things sat when we went down on the planet.
Cut to the aforementioned social hot spot, the one with all the making out. I got, um, tried out a couple of times by some mighty friendly local gals, but every time the Yokumberry tonic came out tasting bitter. Then, one more young lady wanted to take a taste, and what with Aeryn giving me the dirtiest looks in the Uncharted Territories every thirty seconds, I figured why not. It was sweet, after which I was immediately taken into government custody.
And you think the sisters of St. Josephine of the Two-Foot Ruler Grade School were tough on kissing.
As it turned out, that last woman to kiss me was Princess Katralla. She was desperately seeking a compatible beau, since without a hubby, she couldn't inherit the throne from her mama. So I was the one they wanted to hitch to the Princess, and again with the dirty looks, not to mention the cold shouldering, so it didn't seem that bad. Of course, all this kissing led to plenty more complications, like me getting turned into a statue and having my head broken off (but I'm much better now...) and hooking up for some non-Yokumberry kissage with a PK Jane Bond by the name of Jenavia.
Maybe that was part of Aeryn's problem: my tendency to gravitationally draw in women. Huh.
Whatever, as would usually happen around that time, Scorpius showed up to gum up the works. He held the lives of everyone on Moya hostage, demanding that I marry the Princess and give up the wormhole technology.
Boom boom boom, bada bing bada bam, I'm not a statue or a prince, all my buddies made it out fine and Moya left the planet with just one vial of the tonic in Aeryn Sun's hands.
Hmmm? What's that you ask?
Well, of course we did.
(647)
What happens when a kiss isn't just a kiss? What happens when it turns out to decide the rest of your life?
See, on Earth, that scenario usually takes the form of Becky Sue Tuttle, a quick grope in the back seat of your Chevy and Becky Sue's father Joe Don holding a very big shotgun against your head as you say "I do". And if you replace Becky Sue Tuttle with a Sebacean princess, Joe Don with Scorpius and the shotgun with the lives and well-being of your friends, you get where this story is going.
I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?
Kiss. Make out. Play tonsil hockey. Snog. Mack. Suck face. Swap spit. All terms for the same thing. A lot of them kind of gross, but that's slang for you. It's pretty damn important in our culture, and on this one particular planet, it's The Big One.
Picture your neighborhood bar-slash-pickup joint. People are milling around, having drinks, a few laughs... and kissing everyone in sight. You see, these folks came up with a liquid that actually can actually determine whether two people are genetically compatible for creating offspring. And while just about any guy and any gal on Earth can theoretically do so, the same thing didn't go here. So if you were on the prowl, you carried around a little vial of the stuff and went to town. If it tasted bitter, then it meant no match. If it was sweet, then you were good to go forth and multiply.
Surprise, surprise, surprise, Aeryn and I were on the outs at the moment. That was more the default state at the time than anything else was. Aeryn said she didn't want to be a slave to my hormones. Chi said that it was because relationships were new to the ex-Peacekeeper, and it was spooking her bad. Whatever the problem was, I was getting brick walled every chance she got. And that's where things sat when we went down on the planet.
Cut to the aforementioned social hot spot, the one with all the making out. I got, um, tried out a couple of times by some mighty friendly local gals, but every time the Yokumberry tonic came out tasting bitter. Then, one more young lady wanted to take a taste, and what with Aeryn giving me the dirtiest looks in the Uncharted Territories every thirty seconds, I figured why not. It was sweet, after which I was immediately taken into government custody.
And you think the sisters of St. Josephine of the Two-Foot Ruler Grade School were tough on kissing.
As it turned out, that last woman to kiss me was Princess Katralla. She was desperately seeking a compatible beau, since without a hubby, she couldn't inherit the throne from her mama. So I was the one they wanted to hitch to the Princess, and again with the dirty looks, not to mention the cold shouldering, so it didn't seem that bad. Of course, all this kissing led to plenty more complications, like me getting turned into a statue and having my head broken off (but I'm much better now...) and hooking up for some non-Yokumberry kissage with a PK Jane Bond by the name of Jenavia.
Maybe that was part of Aeryn's problem: my tendency to gravitationally draw in women. Huh.
Whatever, as would usually happen around that time, Scorpius showed up to gum up the works. He held the lives of everyone on Moya hostage, demanding that I marry the Princess and give up the wormhole technology.
Boom boom boom, bada bing bada bam, I'm not a statue or a prince, all my buddies made it out fine and Moya left the planet with just one vial of the tonic in Aeryn Sun's hands.
Hmmm? What's that you ask?
Well, of course we did.
(647)