The Unsuitable Girl
Author: Jessica Pickard
Once again Sam asked himself why he was standing here, in this field, miles out of town, staring into an increasingly dusky sky.
Well he was here for the money of course. God knows he could use that right now. But he was also here, if he was honest, for the girl, this extraordinary creature standing just a few feet away. Sam had known many beautiful women in his years as a Private Eye. But this one? My God! Those cheekbones! And the greenest eyes he’d ever seen.
Unfortunately she was also quite mad.
It was sad really. The field called for a picnic; a blanket spread on the grass; chilled wine in tall glasses the colour of those eyes. But instead they were here to check out her parents who would apparently ‘arrive from the sky’.
“Yes. They’re coming!” The girl was hopping from foot to foot and pointing upwards.
In his head Sam began the report for his client, the unpleasant Lady Matthews. ‘I am afraid after three days’ close surveillance your suspicions seem correct. This girl is an unsuitable match for your nephew.’
“There! Look!”
Sam followed the line of the girl’s arm. There was indeed something, a black shape, oddly solid against the flimsy clouds. It was moving towards them, travelling fast. Sam experienced a flutter of fear. How far was it back to the car?
The shape, now huge as a warehouse, settled nearby with a soft sigh and started to unzip, turning inside out as if giving birth to its own insides. Light poured from the widening crack. Then something like a tongue slid out and extended stickily towards them.
Sam’s legs no longer connected to his will.
The tongue came to a stop in front of the girl, its tip bouncing up and down. The girl patted it.
“No Anwar, you silly ship. Go play on your own. I need to talk to my parents.”
The tongue slid away with a huffy noise reforming into a perfect zig zag of steps down which descended two enormously tall figures, the height of church pillars.
“Mother! Father! I said humanoid!”
The one called Mother looked down on Sam. “Is that normal size for here?”
“Yes, for the males.”
“And is this the one you want to combine with?” They continued down the steps.
“NO!” the girl was laughing. “Sam is here – well to report on you! The man I want to marry is Algenon. Mum you’ll love Algenon. He is so kind and so …..”
“How long do they live?” interrupted the one called Father.
“About seven Alticars.”
“Well,” said the mother turning to her husband. “If it IS a mistake it will be over in a flash. Then she can recombine with something better. ANWAR STOP THAT!!!” This last was directed at the tongue which had moved away and was now wrapping itself around and through an old tractor. Rusty bangings came from that corner of the field.
“If you are quite sure? Then we give our blessing”. With this Father stretched a hand over the girl’s head. In the orange light Sam could see right through, through to the delicate tracery of a second skull, a forehead that sloped backwards. Like a deer. Like a squirrel.
The girl turned to Sam.
But he had already mentally recomposed his report for Lady Mathews. ‘The girl is no gold digger. The parents come from high places. They even arrived on their own ship! I therefore submit this report in support of the marriage, which I am sure will be a happy one.’

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