Out of the watcher in ‘I’, the following story is a continuation from, What’s it like there tomorrow?, but starts here.

February 21, 2019

When we arrived to order our food, she mentioned we’d been here. I was sure at that point we both were on different pages in our relationship. Female type others know what they’re saying better than us males, but this one smacked of ignorance.

The others, who travel out to the unknown and back, don’t comprehend time. They have pockets of memory intended to stay bliss. Meaning, they’re here, but not quite. Breathing in the outer environments to later transmit information back to our people on earth, as an Ambassador, Jessica understood that her lack of time comprehension would show sooner or later.

“When did we eat here last?” I ask.

“The year was neveryear, you must not remember—” she responds with the tales of a true Buzz-lightyear, and a tone of insult to earth’s time.

“I understand you’re intergalactically jet-lagged, but please, I’m starved, so order,” I beg.

“I’ll eat salad.”

The drudge registers her order onto the screen and looks up to me for mines, “the usual.”

Unsure where that response came from, my instinct was just that. Maybe I’d been here but refusing to agree with her. Having to prove my weight, she’s a tough Ambassador. Her confident walk and candor talk is why we’re here. Teammates appointed her head captain of the softball team at Mathara College. Not only was she a natural born leader, but a herding beast.

Women of the intergalactic Ambassadors are magnificent, intimidating, and how I ended up on a train with her back to the others’ land is extraordinary.

I met Jessica Bush at the Freshman’s Athletic meet and greet banquet two months prior to students moving into campus dormitories. The Blotsburg native wore her confidence as well as her uptown crim de la crim khaki suit. Girls never talked shit behind her back, nor judge her because they knew she was a bitch, too. For the men she dated, she’s the one that ran away. As a well understood tri-racial girl, she’s born into the best of our worlds.

Upon first eye contact she tucks my tail between my thighs. Showing her duende in a way I couldn’t piss straight, it led to our honeymoon stage lasting as long as the train ride back to Saint Laurent’co Circle…

-Budd

Continued here…

Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes because no one can 'read' him. And it's a great way to hide public thoughts...

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