The Mail Order Groom
Ryan T. Shaw
“The shortest distance between two points is a straight line,” or is it?
"The Mail Order Groom"
In process
Sample
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that the ride was over before she knew it. The tram doors opened and she stepped out on an empty platform. The doors slid shut and the tram departed living her alone on a sunny afternoon. She started for the exit just as she realized she’d forgotten to call for the car.
She stopped, and looked around to see she was totally alone. Nobody could get to her location without coming up the stairs which she had in complete view. As she rummaged in her purse for her cell phone the wind swirled suddenly, as if the tram had swiftly passed without stopping. It lasted only for an instant and then a thud and grunt met her ears.
Looking quickly toward the noise she noticed a young man attempting to get to his feet. He staggered and held the wall while shaking his head. He looked like he’d just been expelled form a vacuum cleaner hose with dust all around him. Either that or he’d just popped in from a desert climate and hadn't been able to shake all the sand from his hair.
This puzzled Roxie. Nobody could have gotten past her so quickly without her noticing. He was taller than she was, but she wasn't very big to begin with. He blinked and looked like he was trying to recover from a spinning ride. Other than his abrupt odd appearance he looked normal.
His hair cut short was light brown. Twinkling blue eyes blinked trying to clear out the dust. They were set under matching brows and graced a very attractive face. If he were to smile it would melt any young woman’s heart. His arms and chest rippled with muscles that tattled of his athletic conditioning. His legs as he tried to get his balance shown from under his tattered shorts. His shirt looked like the sleeves had been torn off at the shoulder and exposed his strong arms.
“Where’d he come from?” she mumbled watching him. He appeared to be having difficulty gaining his balance and coughed a couple of times. Then he looked up and noticed the billboard. He appeared puzzled until he looked down and noticed her watching. Then he looked nervous.
He looked harmless and lost; curiosity was getting the better of her so she deiced to investigate. How did he manage to get past her? He scanned around quickly and looked like he feared her as she approached. He leaned against the wall as she drew nearer and said nothing, looking like if he could jump through the wall he would.
She stood in front of him like a stone pillar and refused to move. She’d decided to confront this handsome young man and satisfy her curiosity.
“Hello, I’m Roxanne, Roxanne Gabling. My friends call me Roxie.” she said holding out her hand.
It was then he realized he didn't have a name, at least not one this world could pronounce anyway, all they ever called him was “Creature,” and their language consisted of many sounds inaudible to most human ears. He stood frozen in front of her unable to speak with his mouth open. He viewed her face, the eyes dark brown and except for the color, spaced just exactly like his. When he saw them he was jabbed with remorse at remembering how Camacho and the others said his were odd. He’d never had time to study any other than his own in the mirror, and didn't know eyes could differ so much in color. He was getting uncomfortable.
“What's the matter? Cat got your tough?” she asked smiling.
His eyes went wide, a tear tried to escape and he said “excuse me,” and tried to step around her.
“Hey! It’s called manners to introduce yourself ya know!” she growled.
He stopped and looked at her, “my apologies, but I… I… don't have a name,” he said and tried to continue his retreat. The old one had taught him manners well.
She took his arm, spun him around to face her and said in surprise “wait a minute. You’re telling me you don't have a name? That’s the weirdest way to avoid people I’ve ever heard. Wish I’d have thought of it.”
With a polite bow he tried once again to escape, “please excuse me, you shouldn’t be seen with a freak like me,” he said softly.
In total dumfounded shock she gasped “Huh? Who’s the freak? You’re a little weird, but freaky? What do you meant by that?”
He looked anxious “I am told that I am gangly and ugly. My eyes are strange and my coloring is wrong. I think the word is homely, yes that is the word. I am homely freak.”
She started to laugh, “Well I’m not going to call you homely.”
“What would you call me then?” he asked.
Looking thoughtful she sighed “well if you won’t tell me your name, then I guess I’ll just have to call you… Homer! Unless you can tell me what your real name is,” she hoped this would get him to tell her.
“Homer?” he asked.
“Yeah, Homer! And if you don't like it then tell me what your real name is,” she pressed.
He shrugged with palms up, “I have only been called Creature since I can remember.”
“Creature? You can't be serious?” She asked.
He shrugged again looking ashamed.
“Okay Homer it is then!” she crossed her arms.
“What means Homer?” he asked.
“I’ll have to research it and let you know,” She smiled.
“Homer is male? And Roxanne is female? Yes?”
She gasped “well I certainly hope so!”
“Please forgive, I wish not to offend. I do not have a schematic on females,” he respectfully bowed with arms crossed and open palms on the base of his neck.
“A schematic? You need a schematic? Can't you operate without one?” She chuckled thinking she’d found a very polite yet handsome geek.
This small female confused him; he’d seen the schematic of one on the billboard across the tracks. But he’d just stepped through the portal and didn't have time to study it. He felt if he’d been able to, he would know how to interact with one. But as he was learning, the children’s tails in the books were in no way close to the truth of this world. Any schematic he could have obtained and studied wouldn't have yielded much information, other than to point out the anatomical differences in the sexes.
“You’re not from around here are you?” she asked.
He looked puzzled and shook his head. No he definitely wasn't from around there, not by a long ways. Like a couple of hundred million light years.
“Didn’t think so, your accent gives you away. It’s different, where you from?”
“The inhabitants there call it Galdova,” he said.
“Galdova? Never head of it. Is it near Russia? Your accent doesn’t sound Russian.”
“What is Russia? Is that what you call this blue planet?” he asked.
Roxie looked puzzled, “we call the planet Earth, what do you call it?”
“I only know it as the Tara blue planet; Gunter didn't tell me what it was called.”
“You look confused, are you lost?” she asked.
“I think so, what is lost?”
She laughed, “When you don't know where you are you’re lost. Do you know where you are?”
He shook his head, “I fit the example of lost then.”