TAPS

(This story contains mild substance abuse, violence, and gore.)

My designation is DEBR81N of Casprius 8. My species is predatory, feeding on neural matter in carbon-based lifeforms. A friend told me the primitive primates of this weird smelling planet had the richest gray matter in the galaxy. Word is they are sentient but only use about ten percent of it. How pointless. Sounds delicious though.

These humans aren’t very perceptive. I have been hiding on the underside of this desk surrounded by these beings for hours. No one has noticed me. The miniature humans left for something called recess. It’s weird they would get excited and squeal about an indentation. Hopefully I can get my meal before they return. My target is the teacher, Miss Ruiz.

After they left, I used my limited telepathy to peer into her mind. Her thought was, I can’t deal with these bastards another minute unless I’m high. Second grade pains, they are. I wonder what altitude has to do with these little humans or her mental state. If she comes back to her chair soon, I don’t care.

Using my six short strong feet, one under each of my radial hemispheres, I move from the desk to under the seat of her chair. Meanwhile, a pair of my six eyes keep track of her. My sight is movement sensitive covering 360 degrees. It is hard to surprise me.

Miss Ruiz is leaning outside of the window. An odd odor hung in the air. For some reason, she is burning something and filling her internal air bags with the smoke. These primates are stupid. How could their brains be such a treat? This better not be a joke.

After a couple of minutes, she tosses the small remainder of the burnt item out the window. After closing it, she began filling the air with an aerosolized chemical sprayed from a can. What is she doing? Has she detected me? Is it a chemical defense?

Come here human. Come sit and relax. Shouldn’t you be doing your job?

She straightens her blouse and skirt, as if it matters how those fake skins lined up. Then Miss Ruiz walks to a cabinet and retrieves a small vial from a leather bag and sprays it on her neck. What is this human’s fascination with spraying chemicals? Maybe it’s some kind of synthetic pheromone. Could it be mating season? There aren’t many mature males in this building from my observations, but she may have one targeted. That could be interesting if I was here for research, but my intention is a meal.

Maybe I can get away with another mental intrusion. My mind shunts outward to contact hers. That should cover up the smell, she thought. She sounds paranoid, but her thoughts have a strange ring that wasn’t there before.

The teacher finally approaches her desk. I quiver with excitement. She pulls out her chair and sits down. My six thin tentacles and feet pull my small body up to the back of the chair. The attack is swift. Tentacles wrapped around her neck and head. The thorns along the tips ease holding. My bloom-looking mouth with six hooked claws latches onto the base of her head. They inject paralyzing venom.

Why is her fur crunchy and stiff? Yuck! Another chemical! What is this species’ allure to toxic chemicals?! They saturate the air with them and slather it on their bodies. Oh, the bitterness! This brain better be worth it. From the center of my mouth my proboscis penetrates her skull and begins predigesting the organ and sucking up the fluid.

Delectable.

This brain is better than I was told. Her memories added to the richness of the nourishment. Miss Ruiz went limp, so I relaxed my grip on her head. I am devouring all of who she is. The memory of learning to ride a bike and the falls prior. Delicious. Her first mating. Scrumptious. I am ingesting every memory and neuron

How wonderful this meal is.

What is that?

A strange feeling begins spreading across my body. I am still attached to the woman, but I feel like I am floating away. My tentacles grip tighter to Miss Ruiz’s head and the back of the chair. My tentacles are numb. I should be alarmed, but I feel so good. As my eyes shift, everything seems to have to catch up to where I am looking. How weird this is.

For some reason, I wish I could giggle.

With the brain ingested, I slowly release Miss Ruiz. My body has plumped with my stomachs swollen. Somehow, I fall onto the cold, hard floor. My chiton shell easily absorbs the impact. Something tells me that if the fall had done damage, I would not have felt the pain. My plan should be to escape into a hidden place. The desk is right there. I just want to enjoy this moment, this feeling.

Miss Ruiz is residing within me and this euphoric state has me in a mental state unlike anything I have ever experienced before. How is this stinky mud ball of a planet not swarming with my species feasting on this simple, stupid species.

Wait!

This is what the teacher meant by “high”. Now I understand how this state would help inoculate her mind against the stress and irritation of the little “bastards” with their high pitch voices and crazy actions. Could they be that bad? Other than being loud and making high frequency sounds, they seem harmless. Why am I repeating myself? My thoughts are running into each other.

Ha! Thoughts colliding. That’s funny.

My distracting thoughts prevents me from noticing the approaching stomping footsteps.

“What is that?!” A human male child yells as he points at me.

“What’s wong wit Miz Wuiz?” A young female asks. Her light-colored fur has been tied into a thick twisting pattern.

Another child says, “I think she’s dead.”

The first boy and a few others approach me. In a threatening show, I raise and flail my tentacles revealing the small thorns along the ends.

“Ew! It wooks gwoss!”

“Get me that pointer, Brad.” A larger male child commands the first boy. He looks mean. For my own defense, I read his thoughts. For the first time since I was a young spawn, I am scared. He has recent memories of killing and mutilating small animals. The boy is cruel and dangerous. Now I wish I had brought my psionic pulse emitter.

My feet begin carrying my body toward the desk. If this floor was something other than waxed tile, my speed would be much faster. A heavy textbook lands with a sharp crack between the desk and me.

The large boy, now armed with a long-pointed weapon, begins poking my thin shell. I must defend myself. My tentacles, which are as long as his weapon, get lucky and scratch the child’s hand drawing a thin line of blood.

“Ouch! That thing just cut me!”

That’s what you get for messing with me, I attempted to insert into his mind.

“DIE!” The boy thrust with the point of the weapon.

The pointer penetrated my chiton shell. Of my six stomachs, one ruptures, and a neuron cluster is disrupted. With the point still inside me, the boy pulls the weapon upward. My body flies from the floor and hits the wall behind the desk. When I land, my body is upside down.

This is bad.

My tentacles desperately push against the wall, and my body starts to flip. The boy charges.

“Weave it awone, Cwyde!” The girl with the twisted hair yelled. Her voice carries her fear.

Meanwhile another voice called, “I’ll get help.”

The point penetrated me again. My belly has a thinner shell than my dorsal side. The strike was true and paralyzed two of my radial sections. I had one chance to possibly survive this and halt all movements. If he thinks I am dead, he may get close enough for me to strike with my proboscis and venom.

Clyde comes closer, reaches down, and flips me over.

Another child says, “It looks like a weird starfish.”

Clyde responds, “It feels squishy.”

My mouth launches toward his hand. Five of the claws sink into his skin. One fails due to the compromised nerve cluster. The claws transfer my paralytic venom. It causes Clyde’s arm to weaken. The pointer falls to the floor. The boy screams in surprise and pain as my proboscis plunges into his hand, completely piercing through both sides.

His scream is joined by several others.

Now they will back off, and I can escape.

My error becomes evident. An older human enters the room just as Clyde launches his foot forward. The impact cracks my shell. My mouth falls from the boy’s hand, and I lose control of my body. Some of my tentacles spasm uncontrollably. The “high” Miss Ruiz referred to is gone. For me it was not enough to deal with this young human.

His foot slams into me again. My endoplasm begins oozing onto the floor with some of the delicious Miss Ruiz. My sight is dimming.

Another kick. How do I escape?

There has to be . . .