Chapter 2

Seated in front of his computer, James Leonard Foster was busy working on his latest novel. He had a week to finish it and had fallen behind on his schedule. As much as he hated it, he had to write almost two chapters a day to get finished in time to get the manuscript to his publisher. It wasn't really that difficult of a pace since each chapter was fairly short. The contract under which he was working dictated he deliver the manuscript in ten days. That gave him seven days to write, two days to travel, and one day to overnight the manuscript to New York.

Although he was ashamed of it, he considered this story to be a light piece of trash that would bring in lots of money and a little fame, but no self respect. It wasn't the Great American Novel and he knew it. He didn't even pretend that it was. He didn't even try to pretend that any of his other novels were great pieces of literature. He produced light-hearted popular pulp fiction that attracted lots of readers. Attracting lots of readers brought lots of money.

The novel he was working on was the latest in a series of stories about his famous character, Dr. Dud. He had never made up his mind as to what Dr. Dud was a doctor of, but he worked in a little of this and that through all of the stories. For the most part, he portrayed Dr. Dud as a psychic of modest talent. In the first story, a scientist had declared that his psychic talent was so modest that it was statistically insignificant; a fact that Dr. Dud proudly announced to any who would listen. In short, Dr. Dud was a bumbling idiot with more luck than any human could possibly possess. It was lame, but people loved the character.

On this particular morning, James Leonard Foster was working on the first great love scene of the entire story. As was his habit, he was talking to the computer while writing. He felt that part of the creative process was talking through the story even if there was no one present to talk back to him. Frowning at the monitor, he said, "I guess I better describe her breasts. I'm tired of writing about big breasted heroines, I'll make her have very small breasts. She'll have breasts flat as pancakes; flatter than pancakes would be even better. Hmmm, should the aureole be puffy or flat? I'll make them flat. What color? How about brown? I've been using pink too often. Okay. Now what about size? In the last book, I made the aureole large. I'll go with small aureole this time, but she'll have big nipples. I like that; big nipples standing tall above small aureole on flat breasts."

He typed his decisions concerning the breasts of the heroine into the computer. It wasn't a pornographic novel so he had to find a delicate balance between being too graphic and providing enough of a description to allow the reader to visualize the character. Sitting back, he said, "Maybe I ought to just find a picture of a woman and describe her. Nah, that's too easy. Besides, that would require some writing ability on my part."

He leaned forward and finished his description of the heroine's body. Deciding that it was still too attractive, he added bony knees, sharp elbows, and a nose like an eagle's beak. Once he was finished, he stared at the screen for a minute and then scrolled upwards to read what he had just written. He snorted in disgust and then said, "Hard to believe that people will want to read this crap. I hate writing sex scenes. I mean, how many ways can it turn out? The hero fondles the woman just a few times and before you know it, she starts coming like winter in January. Like that is ever going to happen."

James laughed and then started typing. For the next five pages, he described the most humiliating sexual encounter he could imagine. Heads bumped, hair got pulled, and lips missed when they went to kiss. The insertion of one body part into another didn't go well; she was dry and he never got fully inserted into her before coming. The heroine didn't come and the hero felt like hell when he had finished. It ended with him snoring while she was staring at the ceiling wondering about the future of their relationship.

Sitting back after his most productive writing experience of this novel, he laughed and said, "I should probably take that out. No, I'm going to leave it in. I can't do that; it'll ruin the rest of the story. Ah, what the hell; it is my story and I can write it however I want it."

Having come to that important decision, he stared at the computer screen for a full minute. He scratched the back of his head for a time and then said, "I wonder what I should write now."

That James would find himself in the position where he had no idea what to write next was not unusual. He had a writing style that drove his publisher crazy. Rather than being a structured writer who had detailed outlines of his stories, James had an outline that consisted of a single descriptive sentence for each chapter. He allowed each character to develop and then act in a manner consistent with that character. Sometimes he really surprised himself with the direction his stories took. When he had mentioned the surprise he felt to his publisher, the man had immediately reached for a bottle of pills.

After rummaging through the small stack of papers on his desk, James found the outline he had submitted to his publisher and read it. He checked off the current chapter and read the sentence for the next chapter aloud, "The hero goes off to take care of his business before it is taken over by the villain."

He sat there staring at the sheet of paper trying to remember what he had told his publisher. For a minute he couldn't remember what kind of business Dr. Dud owned in his previous stories. Shaking his head, he said, "That sounds dull as hell. I wonder what I was thinking when I wrote that down. I remember now; he owns a chain of coin operated Laundromats. What did I call it? Hmmm, Dud's Suds."

He sat there for a minute thinking about the story and said, "You know that you are dealing with a real evil villain if he wants to take over a Laundromat chain."

"I suppose I could have the villain own a laundry detergent company and wants to single source his low quality detergents in Laundromats," he said. That wasn't even worth a snide snort much less a chuckle. He was quiet for a second and then snorted. Sarcasm rolling off of his tongue, he said, "Right!"

He said, "I guess I'll have to change his business. What kind of business should it be? I know! I'll have him own a male model agency called Dud's Studs for this book. The evil villain is in love with one of the models and wants the agency so that he can blackmail the worst male model of the year into being his love slave."

If his publisher had been present, then that last statement would have had him reaching for his valium. That was part of the reason why James liked writing well away from civilization and, most importantly, a telephone. His publisher would have been calling him everyday trying to get more information about the novel. James didn't like having to tell the poor man that he had no idea how the story was going. He didn't feel right contributing to the man's pending drug addiction. Of course, reading about the Dud's Studs business would have him reaching for the pills.

Outside the small cabin, eight Quatyl were busy debating what they should do next. It seemed obvious to them that the occupant represented the dominate species on the planet. It is highly likely that they would have been very disappointed if they had first encountered a chicken coup. The structure gave them hope. If they could control the occupant, then they would be safe.

After a short discussion using the last Slathern alive, they turned their attention to the occupant. They could sense the single individual inside the cabin, but their attempts to influence it to leave the cabin were failing. It wasn't a good sign.

To say that the Quatyl were feeling very despondent would be an understatement. On the verge of dying from starvation and exposure, the eight of them were desperate. None of the plants they had encountered were fragile enough to be eaten. Eating the plants was like chewing sandpaper. Outside of the few rodents they had helping them, they were practically defenseless. Even worse, the last Slathern was about to die and none of them had a clue how to save it. They knew that soon they wouldn't even be able to discuss their situation.

Atac came to a decision and used the last gasp of the Slathern to say, 'I'll go in and see what happens. If the fluffy tailed ones try to pull you away, then you'll know it is not safe.'

His mate, Atar, wanted to go into the cabin with him, but held back. The time for argument was over and he was the commander of the mission. She nuzzled him and watched with sad eyes as he turned to head towards the door of the cabin. For all she knew, he was headed off to his death.

The sound of the screen door rattling attracted James' attention. Looking over in the direction of the sound, he saw a cat-sized animal trying to get through the door. Turning in his chair, he watched the animal struggle with the door. Having a wild animal loose in the cabin might be entertaining, but could end in disaster. After debating the pros and cons of being chased around the inside of the house by a wild animal, he decided to scare it off. In a loud voice, he shouted, "Get out of here!"

The animal didn't flee. Surprised by the unusual behavior, he leaned forward and looked at it a little more closely. Of course, closing the distance from sixteen feet to fourteen feet didn't reveal any additional features of the animal. He didn't recognize the species. His surprise turned to curiosity. Not expecting an answer, he asked, "What kind of critter are you?"

The animal couldn't answer, but just continued to struggle to get through the door. James laughed at the desperate antics of the animal. He asked, "Could you use a little help with the door?"

He rose from his chair and went over to the door. Once there, he bent down to examine the animal. The screen door tended to blur its features, but he could tell that it wasn't a cat or a dog. Hoping it wasn't a baby badger or something equally nasty, he decided that a quick wild animal chase around the house would be a good break from writing. He hoped that he would end up being the one doing the chasing and not vice versa. With a small push of his hand, the screen door swung open and the animal moved into the cabin. It fell at his feet.

Looking down at the animal, he took in the small size, the otter- like body, and face that reminded him of a baby seal. He said, "I've got no idea what you are, but you are definitely the cutest little critter I've ever seen. You're cuter than a kitten. If I recall my cuteness scale correctly, that's pretty high up there."

The animal just stayed at his feet looking up at him with the most miserable expression on its face that James had ever seen. Scratching the back of his head, James had no idea what to do. Although he wasn't afraid that it would attack him, he wasn't going to bend down to pick it up.

It definitely looked like it wouldn't enjoy a wild animal chase through the house. The poor little animal looked hungry and exhausted. He knew that if he fed it, that it would probably never leave. After studying it for a minute, he decided that having it hang around the cabin wouldn't be all that bad. He asked, "Would you like something to eat?"

It didn't answer. Of course, he hadn't expected it to answer. He went over to the refrigerator and removed some lettuce and a slice of bacon. He didn't know if it was an herbivore, carnivore, or omnivore and figured the choice would be a reasonable test. He put the food down in front of the animal and watched it. The animal crawled over to the lettuce and sniffed it. It chewed a little on it, but found that it was too tough to chew.

James watched the animal test the lettuce and said, "Well, it seems like you eat vegetables, but don't like lettuce. Let me see what else I've got."

James returned to the refrigerator and looked through the motley assortment of items in it. Like the refrigerator of most men, his was rather bare in terms of vegetables. Reaching in, he said, "Let's try some watermelon."

The animal gingerly tasted the watermelon. The watermelon was wet, it was cold, and it was easy to eat. It was the best thing the animal had ever tasted. The animal tore into the watermelon with a vengeance. Unable to control itself, the animal's rear end danced while it ate the melon. James laughed at the antics of the little animal and said, "You really like that. I'll get you some more."

He went over to the refrigerator to cut off a large slice of the watermelon. It took him a minute to prepare. He put the melon on a plate thinking that it wouldn't be good to get the entire floor sticky. The small piece of melon was gone by the time he returned to the animal. He put the plate with melon down in front of the animal and then stepped back to watch it eat.

There was another noise at the screen door. He turned to look and saw that a squirrel had climbed up on the screen and was watching the scene. For some reason that had been lost to him, James couldn't stand squirrels. He didn't remember getting bitten by a squirrel when he was a little lad of three. Frowning, he said, "Damn squirrel! I'm not feeding you. You're nothing but a rat with a fluffy tail!"

The squirrel climbed off the screen and disappeared. Shaking his head, James went back to his computer to write some more. He figured the animal would either leave or stay. There was no sense in standing over it and he was under a deadline for the novel. He had one week to finish the manuscript and that was going to require him to work fulltime.

Confused by the actions of the beast, the Quatyl watched the huge biped return to the desk. Atac couldn't believe that it had fed him even though his attempts to control the beast had no effect on it. The beast looked large, clumsy, and dangerous despite the fact that it didn't have fangs. Atac looked at the plate of watermelon and then back towards the screen door. The other seven Quatyl had gathered at the screen door to see what was happening.

Trying to decide what to do, Atac looked at the beast, the other seven Quatyl, and the watermelon. Making what had to be the most difficult decision of his life, he went over to the screen door and leaned against it. For all he knew, he was leading them to their death. The door opened enough to admit the other seven Quatyl. They entered the room and made their way to the watermelon.