"It's funny, I don't think I could ever get enough of this Liz," said Michael.
Liz was giggling again. "So you're addicted already, huh?"
"You bet your cute little buns!" Michael growled.
Max was becoming increasingly more worried and angry by the second. Wait, was that a growl? Why would Michael be talking about my beloved's buns? How does he know they're cute? What… His thoughts were cut off by a shriek from Liz.
"Oh Michael! I'm so glad to hear you say that! There are so many ways! Possiblities! We could go so far. The positions are endless!
There was another growl from Michael. "Hmm…why don't you show me some of those…positions…now, Liz?"
With a little moan escaping her mouth, she replied, "Sounds…good to me…very…very good Michael."
At this, our most high and exalted 'leader' became extraordinarily angry. I was still otherwise occupied, so I didn't see the energy ball forming in his hand. He was ready to break down the door and stop whatever was going on in there. Imagine my displeasure when I found out later, what he was thinking…
Tess must be mind-warping Liz again! he thought frantically. There's no way she would go for Michael of all people! And Michael! I can't believe he would take advantage of my pure, unblemished, untainted, spotless Liz! I have to stop this before it gets out of hand!
Now…had I been watching, I would have seen Max take a step forward and trip over his gargantuan feet, (Which might I add, are only proportionate to his big floppy ears - Soooo unlike other parts of his anatomy – but that's another story. Believe me, Liz didn't miss much!). Anyway, as he fell, he dislodged the aforementioned energy ball that he held in his hand, and zapped himself into unconsciousness.
By the time the sunset, Alex and I were just beginning to stir, in the backseat of his dad's Lincoln. I was aware of nothing outside of his arms. He began to thoroughly ravish my mouth with his own, and time stood still. All thoughts of our 'King' went out the window…again.
The first thing Max realized, was that his head hurt, and so did his neck…and backside, Am I laying on a rock? not to mention his back, Yep, definitely a rock! Not understanding why a king's bed would be so uncomfortable, he decided to sit up. Whoa! There's that headache again! The 'mighty king' rose to his feet, passed his hand over the doorknob, and entered the dark apartment. Afraid that turning on the lights would make his head ache more, he opted to wait and let his eyes adjust to the dim interior.
For some reason he could not remember anything. Why was I laying on a rock outside the door? Did I pass out? Did I get too hot? I was really hungry, and royalty should never be deprived of food. Did I faint? Then, like molasses dripping from a tree trunk, he remembered…a laugh, a growl, hidden potential picking up speed not, bit's of conversation flew through his brain…'won't go easy on you,' 'deeper…much deeper,' 'you've got me hooked Parker,'
'your…alien constitution,' 'so you're addicted,' 'cute little buns,' 'oh Michael! The positions are endless!'
Max put his hands to his head, trying in vain to block out the endless tirade. Liz and Michael? There's now way that… Suddenly his vision cleared, and he could make out a lump on the couch, which upon further inspection, was actually two lumps and although they were fast asleep, one could tell the two were locked in a passionate embrace.
Now, our freakishly large-eared alien 'king' did the only thing he knew to do…he screamed. I know, I really do know what you're thinking…it was a scream filled with rage and pain, a guttural basic instinct, but this, this can only be compared to…how shall I put this? Do you remember the movie Roger Rabbit? In the end, Judge Dread is sprayed with his own killer concoction, the 'DIP'. Or perhaps in The Wizard of OZ, when the Wicked Witch of the West was doused with water? In each of these scenarios, there were high pitched shrieks, bulging veins and protruding eyes, then melting. Well, all of that happened, but in this case, instead of a big puddle of goo for the janitors to clean up, there was just a neat little pile of dust.
Yes, Maxwell P. Evans imploded. His screams were heard for miles away. Only a select few knew that they weren't malfunctioning tornado sirens.
Liz and Michael were jolted from their sleep in just enough time to see the dust fall, followed immediately with Michaels reception of the Seal.
Diane and Philip had to be told of the existence of aliens, in order to explain the sudden disappearance. They took it pretty well, considering, and although they grieve for Max, they have closer to understanding his erratic behavior.
Isabel was understandably devastated, but somehow, I think my Buddha loving quasi brother will make the loss more bearable.
Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I bear all of this knowledge, why I got to tell his lovely little story. Well, due to some…reincarnated…former spouse-type, alien bond-thing, that I couldn't care less about, I became the recipient of our dearly departed boy-king's memories. Yep, that's me, bearer of the memories, keeper of the thoughts. Every nitty-gritty little detail of his last days, all given to me…at exactly the wrong moment! Yay me! Just when Alex and I were trying out something new, I get bombarded with his icky memories! Talk about 'killing the mood'!
So now you know how our 'king,' and I use that word very loosly, with the eyes of a dog, ears of an elephant, and brain of a chicken, left this life. I hope your questions have been answered. I'd love to stick around, but since Michael and Liz have already snuck away, I think I'll take my leave. Oooh! I think I hear Alex calling me. Bye!
fine
