When creating a fictional world it is important to hash out what happens to dead bodies.
What? You  say you're not the sort of author to kill off any of your characters? Well okay. But what about animals? Insects? What happened to your characters great-great-grandfathers? 
What is the religious significance of the event of death?
For other worlds how does the decay process work? 
How do people react when they see a dead animal?
Do transportation routes result in dead animals (roadkill) in your world? 
Who is in charge of disposing of dead animals?
Is there a taboo about touching the dead insects that coat vehicles? 
It is a fun world building exercise to dispose of a few bodies. 

Humans are Weird – Here There Be Dragons
The humans on the base were excited. No one was particularly concerned about this fact, yet. The planet they were on was mild even by the standards of the Undulates who found a mere two degrees of temperature drift uncomfortable. The base was well build and meant to provide comfort and protection in equal parts. Most importantly the base commander was a Shatar with half a lifetime of experience dealing with human madness. All factors considered the inhabitants of the base were interested and watchful.
Gr’ska had not yet determined what the humans were excited about but the general emotional expressions were smiles and laughter and light steps so he was hopeful that it was to be a pleasant surprise. Still hope was one thing, evidence was another. Which was why he had sought out the apparent source of the expectation.
“Friend Helen,” Gr’ska called out as he skittered up to her, all six of his motile legs working overtime to keep up with her bipedal stride. “May I speak to you?”
“Sure thing Grits buddy!” Helen called out.
 There was bright energy in her voice and Gr’ska felt his own spirits lift at the sound. He leapt eagerly into the hand she proffered and perched there as she brought him up to her face.
“What do you want to know?” She asked.
“It has been noted that the humans seem to be expecting something,” Gr’ska pointed out. “I would like to know what you are anticipating.”
“Well Grits!” Helen said, her voice interrupted by a giggle. “We weren’t sure it was going to work out so we didn’t say anything but my request for a new pet finally came through.”
“Ah,” Gr’ska said bringing his primary manipulators up to his mandibles. “A pet is a companion animal yes?”
“Yep!” Helen said brightly. Her head nodded eagerly and her brilliant gold head covering bounced entrancingly. “We don’t dare bring any Earth creatures to this world. They would muck up the ecosystem pretty bad so one of the domestication crews went out to the southern seas to look for something pet-worthy. Well they found a nice little warm-blooded lizard thing that fits all the criteria and because it needs to be tested out on-planet before they go off world this base and me!” Her voice rose and she skipped a little, “gets to test out the first pet-forms!”
“And this creature is arriving when?” Gr’ska asked cautiously.
He knew what humans considered suitable pets.
“Now!” Helen nearly squealed out. “The crate is landing now.”
Gr’ska realized that Helen’s steps had taken them to the transport bay and indeed there was a carrier drone approaching with a crate about the size of an Undulate. A low hiss came from the crate as it settled onto the reception platform.
“Uppsie!” Helen called out as she set Gr’ska on her shoulder. “I can’t wait to see my new baby.”
Gr’ska watched as she opened the crate and tenderly pulled out a horrifying creature of the abyss. Twin pairs of forward facing hunter eyes blinked at him. At him. It seemed to be ignoring its new master as she cooed over it. It’s well defined, human like muscles tensed and relaxed under its shimmering opalescent skin. The scales that covered the skin gave the beast a dark blue coloration that shifted as Helen stroked her hands over it.
“Isn’t he adorable?” Helen crooned.
“Adorable,” Gr’ska automatically agreed.
The animal flicked a forked tongue out of his mouth and pulled its lips back to reveal dozens of razor sharp teeth.
“Adorable,” Gr’ska whispered as he slunk back under Helen’s hair. 

Or rather  the Astounding Chris Hadfield clarifies some science. 
Myths:
Busted
Proven
Oh no, its much worse than that.
Sure
Yup
​Oh boy, you don't even know! 

Coworker #4: "I do not want to see a picture of a dead mole."
Me: "Okay, how bout a live frog?" 

Boss Lady: "You don't need to fill out an injury claim?"
Me: "Nah, I just took it easy."

What my crew lead said: "You just take it easy!" 
What my crew lead was thinking: "Please don't do anything that would make you need to fill out an injury claim." 

Me: "Oh, how clever! He put the body in the crawdad trap!" 
Coworkers #1-3: "...."

Crew Lead: "Nice farmers tan!"
Me: "Ha! This is nothing. Last week I looked like Neapolitan ice-cream!" 

Humans are Weird – Fist Bump


“I doubt the trade agreements will change much in the next two days,” Tra’sk said as he adjusted his perch on his human friend’s shoulder. “It is a holiday for the Shatar and the human offices are going to be focused on restructuring their computer servers.”
“You are probably right,” Damian muttered,
After this short response he went back to chewing gently on his lower lip. A fascinating habit that Tra’sk was glad he had a chance to observe closely. It was amazing how the gleaming opalescent teeth caused no damage to the soft flesh of the lip. Tra’sk noted another human approaching, Wilma he thought her name was, but neither she nor Damian had lifted their directional eyes to note the other’s presence. Tra’sk assumed they would not greet each other and returned the majority of his attention to the conversation.
“I think it is safe to say that,” Tra’sk began, but just as Wilma passed Damian she raised a fist.
“Yo,” Damian said, freeing one hand from the datapad he held to slam his own fist into Wilma’s.
“Hey,” Wilma replied.
The shock surged up Damian’s arm and jarred Tra’sk’s body. He gripped Damian’s shirt, barely remembering to not grip his claws into the soft mammalian skin beneath. Both humans continued walking without breaking their odd two-beat stride and without once raising their eyes to each other. Tra’sk flicked his attention back and forth between them in shock.
That couldn’t have been a display of anger, or any other passion. Damian’s pulse, so clearly visible on the flesh of the neck beside Tra’sk, hadn’t even changed its pace. How each human had even been aware of each other in the noisy passageway was a mystery. Their binocular vision was notoriously narrow.
“Tra’sk!” Damian called out waving his hand for attention. “What do you think?”
“What was that?” Tra’sk demanded.
“I said,” Damian replied. “So do you want to go to the deep forest with me?”
“No! I mean yes,” Tra’sk began. “I would love to go to the forest but what was that?” Tra’sk waved in the direction of Wilma’s departing back.
“That?” Damian asked with a frown, slowing to a stop.
“Your fists!” Tra’sk clarified, mimicking the action with his two primary manipulators.
“The fist bump?” Damian asked, ruckling his eyebrows.
“Of course you have a name for it,” Tra’sk said, slumping down onto Damian’s shoulder.  
“That? Just a greeting,” Damian said with a shrug. “You know, for folks you’re cool with.”
Tra’sk pondered the complex calculations necessary to near instantly react to the raised fist of a friend glimpsed out of the humans’ narrow vision, the minutely controlled force required to not injure the other human, and the concentration needed to maintain their bipedal stride at the same time. He walked over to where the pulsing veins radiated mammalian bio-heat from Damian’s neck and pressed his primary eyes into the comforting warmth to dim the overstimulation.
“You okay Tra’sk?” Damian asked in concern.
“Oh I’m quite fine,” Tra’sk said waving one leg dismissively. “Yes, yes the deep forest sounds wonderful: just you me, and no other humans.”
“Okay,” Damian said slowly.
 “Fist bump,” Tra’sk chittered. “How many of your greetings involve simulated assault?”
Damian chuckled but seemed to consider the question rhetorical; he shrugged and slipped the datapad under his arm before setting off whistling. 

One of the fun bits of seasonal work is meeting everyone again. Sometimes they recognize you, sometimes they don't. So planned outings can become surprise meetings. 

Apparently there is an acceptable upper limit to the number of carrots and eggs it is socially appropriate to request when someone says;
"I'm going into town, Do you want anything?" 
Apparently five-dozen eggs and ten pounds of carrots exceeds that limit. 

Parasite Paracord

​
Sometimes you really have to wonder how the human brain works.
I don’t remember how the dream started, but there I am standing on my uncle’s back porch gripping the head of my sleeping bag. A life sucking alien parasite has camouflaged itself as a thirty foot length of paracord and has attached itself to the foot of my sleeping bag with the clear intent of sucking the life out of me while I sleep. I rush around the house to a large ornamental fire pit. The kind that is a satellite shaped metal grate with metal art of deer and elk and such around the base. I toss the parasite-paracord alien into the grate still attached to my sleeping bag and search my pockets for a lighter.
The alien is doing a really good impression of paracord all things considered. Only it is about three times too thick, a little worn in places and changes from color to color along its length. Also it keeps moving a little.
I find a battered blue lighter in my pocket. I frown. I am worried it won’t light. Firstly I am not skilled at getting the kind with the traditional metal thumb switch to light. It hurts my thumb. Secondly I seem to remember that this is either the lighter I found under a snowbank or the one that went through the washer.
I glance nervously at the coiled paracord-parasite in the fire pit. When I glance back at the lighter it is not only lit but the entire top is in flame and it has set some surrounding flammables on fire. I suspect I should be concerned about a possible explosion but decide that the still moving parasite is the larger concern. I hold the flaming lighter under the grate and catch the coiled body of the paracord-parasite on fire.
It lights easily and burns like any nylon would. I watch it burn with relief until I feel the searing pain in my left hand. (Whoever says you can’t feel pain in your dreams is crazy.) I glance over and to my horror the other end of the paracord-parasite has latched itself onto my hand. I go to knock it off but there are a few problems. First of all my right hand is still holding the flaming lighter. I don’t want to just get my right hand trapped against the parasite as well.
I should find a stick or something to knock it off of my hand because not only is it sucking the life out of me it is on fire.
Then my alarm clock went off. Just a dream. Right, no problem. Except this is the first time in weeks I actually slept till my alarm clock went off. I usually wake about ten minutes before. Then my arms and legs felt like lead. I was utterly exhausted at the start of the day. I made it (late) to work and laughed about it with my crewmates. Then because of the type of shirt I wear I got a tan line across my hand in the exact place the dream paracord-parasite had grabbed me.
The human brain is a funny thing. 


Paracord: Parachute cord, paracord, para-cord or 550 cord are all names to describe a lightweight nylon kernmantle rope originally used as suspension lines of U.S. parachutes. The 550 cord consists of a 32 strand woven nylon outer sheath with an inner core of seven, 2 ply nylon yarns.

Note: These are all from today.



“You try getting a receipt from the Communist Party of China!”

“Hey, buddy, what shape are fruit bat teeth?”

“How is it possible for a human to produce that volume of mucus?”

“Now, for the sake of efficiency, we just walk up and give the reproductive organs a good pinch.”

“Oh yes! In fact, I’m all sloshy.”

“Then he pulled out a Big Mac.”
​
“I knew this day would come. I just didn’t expect it to be today. I’m not ready.” 

Humans are Weird – Contagious Behavior


​“The humans are a terrible influence on the Undulates!” Forty-Seven Clicks spat out as he fluttered to a landing beside Quilx’tch.
“Oh really?” Quilx’tch asked as he adjusted his foot coverings over locomotion legs for the fifth time that day. “I hadn’t noticed.”
The Hellbat glared at him though narrow eyes.
“How can you not have noticed!” Forty-Seven Clicks hissed out. “I know for a fact that those contraptions are for keeping that surfactant off of your skin!”
“Exoskeleton,” Quilx’tch corrected him. “And I was attempting to use sarcasm.”
“Oh please don’t,” groaned the Hellbat. “I don’t think I can stand any more human madness spreading to other species today.”
Quilx’tch didn’t bother apologizing. Both he and his colleague were all too aware of the general rule that strongly dissuaded them from actively discouraging play between the species after work and there was no doubt that the humans and Undulates were having a blast playing with the new toy the humans had introduced.
“I am going out to observe the situation,” Quilx’tch stated grimly. “Do you wish to assist me?”
“There is no way,” Forty-Seven Clicks hissed. “That I am going out there until this is over. You land-bound folk cannot understand.”
Quilx’tch whished for a moment he could roll his eyes. Having eight of them would no doubt make the gesture even more meaningful but satisfied himself with bristling his hair and stalking out. It was a fairly long walk from his office to the ponds where the Undulates and humans recreated but long before he got there the foot coverings were serving their purpose as he avoided the sticky patches on the ground. He flinched back as his eyes caught and magnified the glistening ‘bubble’ that floated over his head, but he soldiered on gamely. Soon the sound of laughing and trilling met his ears and he hurried forward to the safe tree that had been set up near the ponds for his use. The grips were mostly sticky with the residue of the humans’ game but he managed to find a secure perch as he observed the game in progress.
A few of the humans stood at one end of the pond using the directional force of their mammalian lungs to ‘blow’ atmosphere through soap covered loops. This formed the ‘bubbles’ that drifted on the wind over the pond. In the water the majority of the Undulates were frisking about at their maximum speed chasing the bubbles. A few Undulates had taken up the bubble wands and were vigorously waving them over their bodies in an attempt to form the bubbles. The crowd rumbled with every known sign of delight and pleasure for the two species.
Quilx’tch shuddered and crept closer to the trunk of the tree as one of the bubbles drifted close to him. He saw his own eight eyes reflected in an opalescent ghost and fought the urge to flee in panic. Understanding differences is why I am out here instead of with my home swarm, he reminded himself firmly. The humans are enjoying themselves and I will figure out why.