Greegs & Ladders - Zack Mitchell, Danny Mendlow (book recommendations based on other books .txt) 📗

Zack Mitchell, Danny Mendlow

BookRix Edition

Copyright 2013 Zack Mitchell & Danny Mendlow

DBA: “Mitchell Mendlow”

All Rights Reserved

Cover Art By: Ian Adams

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Short Stories by Mitchell Mendlow available at

http://wattpad.com/mitchellmendlow

Discover other titles by Mitchell Mendlow at

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/mitchellmendlow

of Greegs and Things… but mostly of Greegs

the First Chapter

Hmmm, where to start?

Not on Earth, that’s for sure! It is true I am writing this book for publication on the planet Earth in an Earthling language. But all I really have to say about the planet Earth is this:

Not a great place to pop by and fuel up your space ship.

The ship I first came to Earth on was fuelled by investment bankers. Generally agreed upon as the most useless organisms ever to exist in the vast history of time and space, it’s common knowledge the only thing they are good for is fuelling space ships.

Common knowledge isn’t very common on Earth.

You would think this abundance of investment bankers and lack of common sense would make Earth a damned fine place to pop by and fuel up your space ship.

If you had the same experience I had, then you would not think of it as a great place to pop by and fuel up your space ship.

If you had a space ship.

Which you don’t.

Now, many millennia of Earth stories have trained your brain to believe that for a story to truly be a story, it must start with one character (a protagonist), and that person must be followed on a journey in which they will encounter various obstacles in order to arrive at their destination. Without meeting this singular character early on in a story, you may be curious if this is even a story at all, rather than just a random assortment of descriptions of silly creatures on silly planets. Don't worry. There is a story to be told here, but there’s no point in telling it until you understand the setting in which the story takes place. Since you know absolutely nothing about this place, it's going to take a little bit of time. Imagine how little you know about the hair follicles in Julius Caesar’s left nostril. Double it, dip it in chocolate sauce and then multiply it by a quintillion or two. That’s how little you know about this place. This is how we tell stories in the rest of the universe. Time to catch up.

The main trouble I will have trying to describe the world in which this story takes place is one of tense. To me, from my perspective, all of these events have happened in my past. But I am acutely aware that much of it does not occur in your past. There is a tense in many alien tongues for this exact literary dilemma. Alas, no such luck with English. Please bear with me in the opening chapters, as I appear to jump between the present and past tense. On the simple, linear time-line of your average human, all of these events have actually happened in what you would call 'the future.' But from the perspective of me, it is the past, and from the perspective of the actual story it is the present. So whatever it is, whenever it is... just be happy knowing that it is. Or was. Or will be. Kind of.

This story begins (began, will begin some day)on a planet you've never heard of. This isn’t saying much, considering most of you can only name nine on a good day. A fairly pathetic feat, when you imagine the mind-blowinglyinfinite sea of planets there are out there, but every species has to start somewhere I suppose. (Pluto is a planet by the way, not sure what it did to your astronomers to deserve being demoted.)

This planet exists (existed, will exist) in a solar system quite unlike your own. There are fifty-nine suns in this one solar system. (Or at least there will be some day, and definitely was when I was there). There are as many as forty-seven planets revolving around each of these suns. Four suns have no planets at all doing anything around them. Near the middle of this vast network of gaseous orbs and rocks there is one sun about five times the size of your own. This sun has thirty-eight planets performing gravitational hula-hoops around it. Eleven of these planets support ‘life’ as you would define it. In truth, everything is ‘alive’ (and dead for that matter) but I won’t try and persuade you otherwise. You seem fairly set in your ways. Fairly certain of your definitions. Fairly resilient in your steadfast determination to continue believing in your institutions, your corporations, your religions, your political leaders, and most astonishingly… your investment bankers. So I shan’t attempt to convince you otherwise. Instead, I will just tell youthis little story.

Once upon one of these eleven planets there existed a population of Greegs.

Greegs are a mutation, much like yourself. Not a rare group by any means, you’ll find them many places in the vastness of space... unlike yourself.

However, it is extremely rare that Greegs will actually find themselves the most intellectually evolved creatures on a thriving planet. In most scenarios Greeg populations would be kept under tight control for fear of wreaking havoc on their planet and the other species on it. They are used primarily as carnival attractions. In small numbers they are harmless and amusing. Sound familiar?

Completely oblivious to this universal normality, The Greegs on this planet found themselves to be dominant and unchecked. They were indeed running the show. Without a multitude of other species keeping their population under control and letting them know how inferior they were, these particular Greegs found themselvesblissfully suffering from delusions of grandeur and overdosing on self-importance.

Imagine this!

Even though they were sharing a solar system with 59 other suns and could plainly see several, habitable planets with the naked eye… they were quite certain that their planet was the only one that ever did, ever would, and did currently contain life.

To really make things almost sad, The Greegs believed something else: That all of the other suns and planets and galaxies and universes; all the big things, all the small things, and everything in between that ever did exist in the whole entirety of everything and anywhere… were put there just for them. A kind of mobile for The Greegs to look at and go ‘Well, isn’t that nice and pretty… thanks for that.’

To make things infuriatingly, impossibly, really just plain difficult to comprehend even a little bit, The Greegs also held another collective opinion. They actually, genuinely believed (with a straight face nonetheless) that they were the smartest and cleverest creatures to ever exist. What a laugh!

Above all though. Above all of their beliefs and primitive understandings of their place in the grand scheme of things, The Greegs suffered from one delusion greater than any others.

Everything The Greegs did, every action they took, every decision they made, was fuelled by one insatiable desire. They desired to obtain and retain large amounts of schmold. Schmold was a green, glowing, sticky, gooey substance that was found deep in the core of the planet. Schmold mining and preservation was the number one priority of all Greegs. They couldn’t possibly even consider doing anything without first thinking how much schmold it would cost or what effects it might have on the schmold trade.

Schmold served no actual purpose whatsoever, except that Greegs thought it looked really neat. The ultimate sign of wealth and status and accomplishment was to take a schmold bath. The poorest Greegs would never have, nor could they ever logically hope to obtain, even a little bit of schmold. But they would dream.

“One day, I’m going to make it so big. I’m going to be so successful that I will take a schmold bath every week,” they would say.

Clearly no one could ever be so lucky.

the Rebel Groolfh and the Planet Garbotron

Only once was there a Greeg who did not dream of taking a schmold bath. His name was Groolfh, and he had the shockingly original revelation that one was much luckier for not taking a schmold bath, as to bathe in schmold is to make oneself filthier than the bottommost layers of Garbotron, an uninhabitable planet used only as a dump for countless millennia. Garbotron was well-known as the worst smelling place in existence. I can attest to this fact, having seen Garbotron with my own eyes; that is to say, having seen the noxious green vapours surrounding Garbotron from 8 light years away. The planet itself is only visible while actually standing on the surface, yet to stand on the surface is to die within seconds. No mortal creature is exempt from this rule. Even if you’re a life-form that is biologically incapable of the sense of smell, your mind will instinctively know that you are standing in a place that smells too awful to comprehend, and not wanting to take the chance that through a miracle you suddenly acquire the ability to smell, will shut itself down in a manner best suited to the occasion.

Another important fact about Garbotron is that one doesn't even need to go remotely near it to experience its danger. A dark day in Galactic history was the time an interstellar wind had the unfortunate timing to pass directly through Garbotron’s Diaper Mountain. The name Diaper Mountain is slightly deceiving. It isn’t really a mountain. More a sort of hemisphere. Defying the logic of space