Cowboys and Dinosaurs - Chapter 16

16. Long Live Enver Hoxha

"Depressed?"

Steve nodded glumly.

"It doesn't matter if they come back." Liz stretched out on her bed in post-coital satisfaction. The temperature in the flat was tropical. Triple glazing had been installed in all the windows. Real seal fur carpeting covered the floors, bedspread, and toilet seat. This had seemed inconsiderate to Steve until he realized that fur seals, to Liz, were upstarts usurping the evolutionary niche that should rightfully belong to crocodiles.

"That was a particularly single-minded mating session. You have almost certainly impregnated me now, thereby passing on your gametes to the next generation. Your selfish gene is now at its destination, and has no further use for the vehicle it travelled there in."

"OK." Steve rose, with difficulty, to his feet, his groin protesting. "I'll just pop upstairs and pack my stuff, then."

"NO!" The power of her grip surprised him. "Stay here awhile."

"But I'm not needed in the birthing process. You probably heave yourself onto a beach somewhere and lay your eggs in a pile of rotting vegetation and then abandon your young to the whims of fate when they hatch -"

Her cheeks coloured endothermically. "That's a lie! Many dinosaurs were loving and considerate mothers."

"Ah, but as you say yourself, you are not a dinosaur."

"The male sea horse", she said, "is also a considerate parent, taking on almost all child-rearing tasks apart from initially giving birth to the young. And it's a fish", she added. "Not a mammal. I mean, it's not a real horse."

He folded his arms and looked at her steadily.

"I don't know", she admitted. "I've never done this all the way through before. I don't know what we're supposed to do. You can eat the young when I give birth to them if you like. I just need you around." She looked into her lap, wringing her fingers. "It's probably hormonal. You probably give off some sort of powerful male musk."

Steve, who had never envisaged himself giving off a powerful male musk, was simultaneously flattered and horribly disturbed.

"I've got to get ready to go", he said. He sighed, breathing out his last hope of succeeding in the cut-throat world of slot machine sales and watching it blow away on the wind. Not that there was any wind in here. The room was a cube of stagnant tropical air, its curtains sellotaped down over its windows to keep in the Carboniferous humidity. Steam had condensed on every wall. A dehumidifier sat in every cupboard, working overtime. A hot tap ran constantly in the bathroom, the plumbing in the wall behind it hissing in protest like a wounded serpent. "I'm going to, I'm going to", I'm going to be sick, "I'm going to move back in with my Mum and Dad, if they'll have me. And look for another job."

"Stay down here. They might not look for you down here."

"Liz, it's another room in the same building. Of course they'll look for me here."

"Then you should face them. Inform their mammalian police. What do you pay your taxes for?"

"I take it you don't pay your taxes."

"I do not. Spending good money on collecting their foul synapsid bum waste and birthing their sweaty milk-swilling children? I'm self-employed."

A sudden sound struck them both dumb. The sound of knocking downstairs.

"Steve? Steve, are you there? You haven't left the building, I've checked the screens. It's me, Gonoroid."

Steve exhaled and relaxed.

***

Gonoroid turned round suddenly, sensing a presence behind him.

"Oh, christ, it's you. Thank god, I nearly bust my stitches."

"I reckon the next step'll be to firebomb the place", said Steve. "I'm leaving."

Gonoroid was crestfallen. "But that'll leave me here alone."

"Mr. Botham will be here. He can talk to them. He's very persuasive."

"So are they. What if they want to know where you live?" Gonoroid looked past Steve at Liz, who had emerged from her front door in a fur coat and leggings. "Oh my god. You had sex with her, didn't you."

"Repeatedly."

"Did you use a condom?"

Steve leaned in close and whispered: "Is anyone else likely to have sex with her?"

Gonoroid nodded. "Ah. Ah yes. Yes, I take your point."

"I'm going to have to leave and not tell you where I'm going, to protect you. If I am in constant contact with loved ones, my enemies can use that against me." He hunted for an analogy. "Like Superman."

"I see", said Gonoroid. "Gosh. Am I a loved one?"

"Platonically", said Steve hastily. "This is Liz", he said, indicating Liz.

"Pardon me if I don't shake hands", said Liz. "I would hate to be covered in mammal sweat."

"Liz is a reptile", said Steve.

Gonoroid nodded. "I see. And how does that work out for you?"

"Adequately." Liz sniffed the air. "I smell blood. You have been injured."

"Um, yes", said Gonoroid. "Does it excite you?" he added miserably.

"No. You are thinking of dinosaurs and crocodiles. I am predominantly ichthyivorous."

"It's true", said Steve. "She has a freezer full of smoked salmon."

"Have you taken your pills recently?" said Gonoroid. "The, uh, lady from Social Services said you got violent if you didn't take them."

"I never take them. They hurt my head."

"Aren't you going to invite us in for tea?" said Steve. Gonoroid's mouth moved into the For Fuck's Sake, Steve position. Instead, what eventually came out was:

"Uh, yes. That would be lovely."

***

Gonoroid tapped in the access code to the door rapidly.

"Three Eight Five Seven", said Liz instantly. "Is that your mother's birthday?"

Gonoroid swallowed hard and opened the external airlock door. "It's the birthday of Chuck Q. Eulenspiegel", he mumbled to the floor.

"I see", nodded Liz. "The producer of Space Cruiser Invincible."

Gonoroid looked up. "You've heard of it?"

"It is one of my favourite pieces of science fictional hokum. It presented a very positive view of an alternative reality ruled by reptiles in The Original Syndicated Series 7, And What Is The Meaning Of Love?"

Gonoroid swooned with rapture. "If I weren't outrageously homosexual, Steve", he said, "I'd be jealous."

"Mind you", said Liz, "It was quite easy to see the actors were mammals in rubber masks. It contrasts well with the cladeist depiction of reptiles as mammalivorous Nazis in V, however. I dislike the taste of mammals. I tasted one only yesterday."

"I bet she did", said Gonoroid, jokily nudging Steve. "You dirty devil."

"I'm afraid not", said Steve, poker-faced. "I hate to break this to you, but I am a reptile too."

"You're a -"

Stumm, stumm, mouthed Steve, hoping against hope Gonoroid was able to lipread in Yiddish.
"Pressure Equalized", said Chrissie Hynde as the inner door clanked open. Gonoroid stood stunned as Steve and Liz strode out into the flat.

"You also seem to have heard of Space Cruiser Invincible", said Liz, turning round expressionlessly, taking in the LED-festooned walls.

"Uh, yes", said Gonoroid. "And it'd take an age to dismantle all this stuff. So I can't move away easily, you see", he continued, collapsing miserably back against a plastic workstation set with meaningless illuminated schematics. "I'm a sitting duck."

"They won't do anything more to you", said Steve. "They already carved you up once, and that was a case of mistaken identity."

Gonoroid nodded down to the Chief Astrogator's console. "They sent me a Get Well Soon card. And flowers." He spat the word like an expectorating cobra. "No doubt they know I'm gay. They're taking the piss."

Liz turned her nose up at the flowers. "I dislike flowers", she said. "Most of them evolved after the Mesozoic."

"We have to do something", said Gonoroid. "We have to stand up for ourselves."

"Like you did?" said Steve. "And where did that get you?" He pulled out his keys. "I'm going upstairs to get the essential core of my stuff. My mobile phone, my Oyster card, and a pocket-sized copy of Bukkake Milkies #119. And then I'm going to work. Without shaving, showering, or brushing my teeth. Uh, if you'll open the door for me."

Reluctantly, Gonoroid operated the door.

"This place", said Steve, "has every modern convenience we need save phasers."

He left.

"SONIC LASERS", yelled Gonoroid after him. "IT'S BLOODY SONIC LASERS. PHASERS ARE - oh, what's the use."

Liz, meanwhile, had found the room's remote control, and was flicking through dinosaur websites on the big screen.

"This is very impressive", she said. "The work of an intelligent, tool using species. I may have misjudged your evolutionary branch entirely."

She dipped a hand into an open packet of biscuits.

"Make yourself at home", said Gonoroid.