Page 61 of Space Daddy and a Boy Called Twink

It was an odd time to be aroused, but I liked the idea that whatever we had done had left the scent of him on me.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said as I finished filling the frothing pitcher and turned back to her, holding it between us in case she tried to make any sudden moves.

It was hard to make out what she was thinking when she had a mask on, although, having seen Daddy’s Vorcon face, maybe I wasn’t going to have much luck reading Sheila at all.

She set her purse with the dog on the counter, then hunched forward.

That can’t be a good sign.

“You’re fucking my mate.”

Oh yeah, I’m a dead man.

She spread her arms out before unleashing an ear-piercing sound, then lunged into the air, practically flying over the counter.

Just stay alive.

That’s what Daddy said.

I tossed the scalding coffee at her mask, uncertain of the effect it would have on a Vorcon, but it must’ve breached through the eye holes because her scream grew even louder as I moved to the side.

As she crashed against the espresso machine, I started to make my escape, but she recovered quickly, and before I could get out from behind the counter, her tail was in front of me, a sharp spear-like end coming at me, forcing me back into the corner with only the door to the back room as a possible escape.

23

TWINK

Customers cried outas the yappy Chihuahua made sure everyone in the building was aware of its existence.

I hurried through the swinging doors, along the wall, into the back room. Since there wasn’t a lock, Sheila wouldn’t have any issue coming back here and tearing my head off.

This was a horrible idea.

Not that I had much choice. If I’d tried to go the other way, she would have likely speared me with her tail, but still, rule number one in any true crime doc or podcast is neverevercorner yourself in a building. In my defense, in this particular case, with an alien on my tail, I felt there wasn’t adequate representation of alien murder content to help me prepare for this moment.

As I fled past the back-room shelves, I searched for anything I could use as a weapon.

This was the moment I realized a bookstore café wasn’t equipped to take on extraterrestrials.

Sheila released a war cry behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder. She stood inside the doorway, having removed the mask, wig, and gloves, so now she was all bulbous head and gnashing teeth as she extended her claws, thrashing about. Even though she’d lost some of her disguise, she was still in that creepy dress, so it was like someone had dressed up their alien action figure in an American Doll’s dress.

I screamed out for my life as I rounded the corner into the cleaning supply closet, where I figured I’d have more luck withsomething I could fashion into a weapon. The hot coffee had been a success, so chemicals might work against her too. I found the purple spray we used to clean the equipment. It smelled toxic, so I hoped for the best. By the time I spun around, she was maybe three feet from me, clawing at me. I blasted her with the spray.

As it misted before me, I turned away to keep any from getting in my eyes—that, or not being interested in seeing the moment she snatched me by my throat and ended me. Like with my coffee assault, she screamed, then dropped to the floor, writhing like a hornet sprayed with Raid.

I started past her to make my escape, but Sheila’s tail tossed and turned, the spike at the end moving in a stabbing motion, puncturing cartons of oat milk on a shelf. As she reared her tail back, milk spraying across the floor, I was sure this would be my only chance, so I had to brave it. I rushed from the closet, and her tail came right for my chest.

“Whoa!” I leaned back to avoid the attack, and in the process, I lost my balance, tumbling back into the closet, which I realized was for the best when I felt her tail nick the front of my shirt. A millimeter more, and she would have drawn blood.

I recovered from the fall quickly, pushing back to my feet. Sheila did the same, spinning around to face me, having recovered from my attack much faster than would do me any good. Though I didn’t know how to read a Vorcon’s expression, the way her lips spread, exposing more of her sharp silver teeth, her yellow eyes brightening, I was certain this wasn’t to convey a truce. She screamed again, this time so loudly, I had to cover my ears.

This was it. I was a dead twink, for sure.

Sheila was about to charge when I heard a muffled, “Hey, you!”

Roger?

She turned just in time to catch a barstool in the face, which knocked her back against the wall.