[The Galaxy Express is excited to present a series of posts by a Very
Special Guest. Her name is Maybelle and she's here all the way from sweet home
Alabama to give us her take on archetypes in science fiction romance. This is
the second installment of a ten part series. Maybelle's posts will go live
Saturday 9 am EST). Part I]
So what are they like?
Inquiring minds want to
know. Inquiring dirty minds.
First off, you'll notice
in the SFR stories Heather’s always going on about, the alien dudes who want Earth
women can make whoopie and babies with us, no problems. Earth’s a lost colony
or genetic bibble babble Deena A something. I usually skip that part in books—and
trust me, when you hear it for yourself out of a Martian’s integration
counselor’s Venus pie hole, it don’t get no better.
Let me just add before
we get to the dirty part that some Martians are elitist snobs, and there is
such a thing as stupid questions on Mars. Questions like, “When do we get to
the dirty part?” Now with me and you, that ain’t a stupid question! And the
answer is... NOW.
Yes, my friends, Martian
males got big schlongs. Diane
Dooley figured this was true too, and I don’t think she got herself
kidnapped to do it.
But you can never tell
with people named Diane. She might be related to that Deena A gal who I guess
is a fertilimity doctor. Then Kimber Vale in Diane’s comments pointed out
Vienna sausages ain’t high on editorial “want” lists, so yeah. Martian wiener
size is the same as regular romance novels—big—and Vienna sausages are nasty.
Is there an archetype
for Mars or romance heroes where he’s got a big schlong? Answer: they all do.
Next question.
Tentacles? Some do. Most
don’t. Next question.
Seriously, I already
answered about the tentacles. Wait, how many wieners? And where?? Not in THIS
galaxy, sister. I think you want the Horse Head Nebula. But it’s harder to get
abducted by tentaculars. They think we don’t have enough arms.
Look, I’m going to quit
answering questions about wieners now. I’m here to tell you about Martian guy archetypes.
For starters, no galaxy is any galaxy without...
TYPE 1m: The King of
the Galaxy (aka the Chief): Every galaxy needs an empire. Or a federation
or a—you get my drift. In SFRs and during a real abduction there’s gotta be a
King.
King-dude may not be on
the women snatching expedition, but you'll meet him sooner or later if you get napped.
He's got to be the boss of everybody, he knows everything, and he ain’t never
wrong. He thinks this one Earth girl with a bad attitude is his destined mate,
fated by the Traxian Seers, so the rest of the abductees just gotta hope the
gal gets caught kissing someone else or runs off so they can get their shot.
The King’s got plenty of
trillium coins and a fancy spaceship, plus if you make it alive to the royal
wedding, you get to be Queen of the Galaxy. Also, this guy might not come home
much on them long Alpha Centauri nights, but it's because he's working late writing
planetary laws, not working on his stellar secretary.
Even when his secretary
is a really hot Earthling named Bellenmay who sneaks away from her assigned
spaceman and offers to show the King of the Galaxy how to "take
dictation".
About
the author