Women Are From…


Captain’s Log 041220.A

I took a trip to Venus recently. It’s a planet that can easily draw you in and hold you prisoner to its pleasantries. During this particular surface excursion, I was greeted by one of the loveliest Venusians you’d ever want to see.  She wore a beautiful sheer, long-flowing, multicolored gown that shimmered whenever she moved because of the gold flecks sewn along her sleeves and collar.  She appeared to float toward me, as her feet were hidden beneath the layers of puffy cloth that settled lightly upon the ground around her.

She smiled and spoke to me in a subtle Venusian dialect I’d only recently begun to study and could barely understand.  I was immediately captivated by her soft spoken demeanor.  Her voice was just above a whisper and her lips would slowly curl into a smile whenever she paused between sentences.  She had me mesmerized.  My resistance was shattered.  Had she asked me to bite off my fingers, I would’ve done it without a second though.

This particular Venusian was from the Delta region.  I could tell because they tend to speak with such verbosity that they can talk all day and never say the same thing twice.  This also means that they can convey the same point 15 different ways.  Because of this, I immediately ran into problems when I tried to express my most heartfelt appreciation for her hospitality using only a few words. This is commonplace to most Martians.  Unfortunately, this foreign concept caused her to mistake my simplicity for an insult.  That one blunder cost me most of the morning, well into the afternoon…

I could see it on her face.  She just could not fathom how I could simply offer her a mere Thank you very much.”??  Did she not greet me properly??  Is she unworthy of a lengthy explanation of how I am most gracious for her unselfish demonstration of warmth in welcoming me to her homeworld??  Does she not warrant the type of dialog that would befit someone of her stature and status in society because her gown had only 4 colors, not 6, her complexion a bit pale and her butt rounder than most?

It wasn’t until 9 hours later that I realized her diatribe was merely a means to engage me in a more fulfilling conversation for her.  When all was said and done, she took a deep breath, kissed me with a smile and floated away.  She’d been satiated.  I, however, was more confused than ever as I hobbled back to my ship feeling completely drained. Yet, I knew I’d be back because I couldn’t shake the desire. I wanted more… more time to explore, more understanding of her world, and most importantly, more of her.

An Exercise In Allegory
by Myxl Dove
© 2012 Browel Publishing

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Categories: prose, writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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