Summary:Rxill, an officer of the Pan-Galactic Council Police who dreams of only culinary fame, ends up on the run from the law after a SPAM-mat accident causes him to switch bodies with Sam, the illegal alien he had been attempting to arrest under the Invasive Alien Species Act.

Chapter 4

Or

In Which Rxill Learns that Mothers are a Universal Plight and Sam Wonders Why Texting Had Not Occurred to these People

Sam looked down at her upper left arm in confusion.

"Your wrist appears to be vibrating. Is this some physiological adaptation of your species?"

Rxill jolted upwards in excitement, launching himself across the table to grab his old body's arm-

Only to feel the burning hot soup soaking into his shirt and the cool lazer gun pressing against his jugular, making gulping nervously particularly difficult.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you wouldn't make any sudden movements. Now. Would you care to explain your enthusiasm, Sam, darling."

Rxill shot Sam a look of annoyance, but the effect was lost when using Sam's own face to do so.

Rxill did not feel particularly inclined to explain that the wrist band was his only means of communication, as the last explanation he had provided ended up with him on the wrong end of his own weapon.

Sam watched in interest as Rxill turned her arm over, pressing his finger against the band around her wrist.

Nothing happened.

"If that was meant to create absolutely no change whatsoever, you've done remarkably well."

Rxill sighed.

"Would you mind terribly pressing the fore finger of your right hand to the same location?"

"Would you mind terribly explaining why?"

"The device only responds to my fingerprint." Rxill ground out between his teeth.

"You mean my fingerprints now, don't you?"

The situation was beginning to look even more dismal from Rxill's perspective.

From Sam's perspective, this was an extremely positive development, albeit she did not know why this unfashionable bit of jewelry was important, only that it caused her old face to scrunch up in the most dejected expression.

Did her joyful appreciation of that pained expression make her sadistic or masochistic?

"Please?"

"You make my voice sound incredibly whiny, it's unpleasant. Upper or lower hand?"

"Upper."

Sam pressed her finger to the band and watched as several illegible symbols flashed in the air like a hologram.

She did not understand what the words meant, but Rxill seemed to find them most unfortunate.

"Should I press it again?"

"No!" Rxill blurted out in horror.

"Then tell me why I shouldn't?" Sam dangled her finger over her wrist threateningly, using her lower left arm to press the laser into Rxill's throat more convincingly.

Rxill honestly did not know what he had done to deserve having this stupid alien foisted upon him and then to have this stupid alien's body foisted upon him. He was a law-abiding Zelklian. He watched every PC political broadcast studiously and patriotically. He did not drop out of the academy and attempt to pass himself off as a Prilinill so he could learn to make fried zomsqualish the way his old Prilinill in-house chef had made when he was young.

"It's my mother calling."

Sam pulled her hand away quickly in shock.

"Well, bloody hell, why didn't you say? No one should have to suffer through a telephone call from their mother."

"Telephones have not been employed in centuries. It is barbaric, unreliable technology. These bands are specifically programed for their owner to bend the fabric of time and space about their person, transporting them to a desired location.* "

"Ugh! Why would someone invent such horrible technology? Why not just text the person? Then you don't have to see their ugly mug or listen to their grating, annoying voice."

*The BBB- Body Broadcasting Band- must register each new owner with the PCP. Furthermore, the PCP requires each owner to submit their BBB for tri-monthly maintenance checks. This policy was instated to cut down on costs of searching for missing limbs across the infinite expanses of time and space, and to stop the all the bloody letters complaining about the tragic Roondund beheading, demanding the PCP take action.**

**Several rather recluse individuals had gone to use their device after an extended period of time and had found that the BBB's personalized dimensions to be lacking. For example, an older Crymnian had gained quite a lot of weight over the course of one year and, deciding to start anew, called a self-help hotline only to leave behind a large chunk of her stomach which had not fit inside the old force field parameters.*** An unpopular adolescent Roondund had undergone a rapid growth spurt*^ and had finally gotten the courage to call the Roondund he liked, only to have his head lopped off by the inadequate dimensions.

***If it hadn't caused such excessive bleeding, many entrepreneurs would have marketed programs for reducing BBB force fields as the fastest form of fat reduction available to consumers.

*^Roondunds grow up to five inches a night over the course of one week directly after birth, and then during their fifth, fifteenth, and thirtieth year. Some Roondunds even manage to reach twelve feet in height.

"It is quite nice when it's someone you wish to see."

"Like a lady-friend?"

"Lady-friend?"

"Boyfriend then?"

"I am a fully matured male Zelklian, why would I be associating with young boys? That sort of behavior is not befitting of any Zelklian, especially one, such as I, who is in a position of authority."

"Nevermind, Rixell, you poor virgin."

Rxill did not comprehend what 'lady-friend' was meant to refer to, nor was 'virgin' a part of his, should he boast, extensive vocabulary (which was not quite extensive as his extensive ego seemed to believe), but he could glean from the alien's tone that it was quite a pathetic, pitiable and yet amusing thing.

"I do not understand your coarse, savage tongue."

"Oi! This savage is currently your only protection from your mother. The bloody phone-

"BBB."

"BBB is still vibrating. Is there no voicemail?"

"There is that option. My mother usually chooses to stay on hold for at least an hour."

"How does that work?"

"She is transported back within her proper dimensions until I am feeling inclined to answer, she gives up, I hang up, or she has to make another phone call."

"Can you tell me how to put it on silent, then?"

"If you will allow me to go clean my shirt off in the excretion room."

"Oh, that is such an unpleasant name."

"But is its primary purpose not for the excretion of bodily wastes?"

"Alrigh, alright. Are these excretion rooms as discriminatory as your Council's policy on aliens?"

"Those laws have biological basis. Invasive species often cause total devastation of the local populations, leaving ecosystems of entire planets in disarray."

"Are there no such things as passports, visas? The innocent tourist? You know, like people who are, after inspection, allowed to travel through sectors or to visit a sector for a short time while abiding by all local laws, and then must leave after undergoing another safety inspection. That sort of thing?"

"I think such a thing used to exist a long time ago, but then some war broke out because of it and an entire solar system was demolished."

"Oh. Well, then, let's hope we don't cause something like that to happen again, eh Rixell."

Rxill eyed Sam suspiciously, the possibility of political uprisings or a rebellion becoming more and more plausible.

Then again, the alien was so dense it did not even understand basic BBB usage.

"Alright, now turn this stupid bracelet off so I can help you use the potty."