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Humans are Weird – Tumble

12/12/2025

Humans are Weird – Tumble

The woofing sound of human laughter chased Lungesup down the hill again and caught up with her as Human Friend Susie’s mass flopped over her in a mass of confusing, but joyful movements. The comforting weight of a smaller than average human pressed Lungesup down into the soft soil the humans called turf. The bright green ground cover cushioned the force of the dryland gravity and off-gassed delightful chemicals as their weight crushed it.
“Again!” Human Friend Susie called out as she gathered her four main appendages under her and sprang up to her usual bipedal stature.
Lungesup gave a hum of agreement and took a further moment to stretch and watch Human Friend Susie leap up the hill, against the gravity, with long, bouncing strides.
“What fantastic strength,” Lungesup observed.
Just then a Shatar, elderly by the graying at the edges of her long frill and seemingly shortened antenna, stepped out of the nearest building. Her broad triangular head was tilted to observe her data pad, and while the display was not clear to Lungesup at this distance it did seem to be displaying some kind of tracking display. Lungesup lingered at the base of the small hill in case the Shatar was tracking her. It was possible the tall inscetoid was looking for someone else but there were few resources on this side of the University wall to attract students or researchers.
As the Undulate had expected the Shatar quickly approached and soon turned her attention cone away from the tracking display and began trotting towards Lungesup with confident speed in her four legs.
“Greetings First Astronomer,” the Shatar called out. “I am Second Grandmother Segunda Proxima Hive.”
“Greetings Second Grandmother Segunda Proxima,” Lungesup replied. “Can I assist your drift in some way?”
“Yes,” the Shatar said, her short antenna relaxing, “I have just arrived to test for the position of Fifth Astronomer. I was informed that there would be an observatory located in a garden for me to use with Second Grandfather present.”
“Oh yes!” Lungesup said when she paused. “The one Human Friend Bertram built. He then grew a rose maze around it for the ‘romance’ I believe he called it. Do you find it meets your needs?”
“We do not,” Second Grandmother Segunda Proxima said with a grim set curling her antenna. “For one these ‘rose’ vines hardly reach over our antenna, and even in the places that they do meet in high enough arches they hardly block out a tenth of the solar radiation.”
“I sound your problem,” Lungesup said with concern. “Perhaps the thorns are a problem too now that I drift with that current.”
“Yes,” the Shatar said in what might have been a dry tone, Lungesup wasn’t quite certain, “the wood-hard spikes as long as my finger is thick with needle sharp tips are perhaps a problem.”
“Well,” Lungesup said. “That is our only garden with a built in observatory. However it will be fairly easy to modify one of the – what is wrong?”
The Shatar had suddenly gone stiff with horror and then sprinted forward a few unds, and then danced sideways, her frill straight out from her neck and her antenna arched with attention.
“The human has fallen from the top of the hill!” Second Grandmother Segunda Proxmia burst out. “She falling down- I can’t help her – too much mass-”
The Shatar paused and her abdomen expanded.
“I will apply first aid as soon as she stops falling. You call the medics to come quickly from the clinic-”
“No, I don’t think I will,” Lungesup said, trying not to wiggle with amusement at the display of stress, which was very touching after all.
The Shatar paused and rotated her head so far that Lungnesup was genuinely worried it might fall off.
“The human is in no danger,” Lungesup explained. “It is a controled decent. We have both done this several times already today.”
The Shatar turned to observe the human who was making good times down the hill towards them, and the Shtatar rotated her head just as far the other direction.
“Her vertical axis is horizontal!” Second Grandmother Segunda Proxmia finally managed to speak. “She is rotating around it! Her limbs-”
Lungesup waited politely until she was sure the Shatar had finished speaking.
“Her limbs are quit sturdy enough for this,” she said, shuffling over to pat the Shatar’s leg reassuringly. “Humans are quite sturdy you know.”
The human in question had ceased her rotational motion several unds from them and gave one final flop to land on her back. She then lay there laughing up at the sky.
“Sound that laugh,” Lungesup said, feeling her appendages curl in delight. “That is a happy human.”
“Human bodies are not supposed to move like that,” the Shatar said with faint horror.
“And yet they do,” Lunges up said. “And they put thorns in gardens so they can bask in solar radiation. Now, shall we sort out getting you and your mate a proper garden without those things.”

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Humans are Weird – Spooky

12/6/2025

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Humans are Weird – Spooky

Twistunder shuffled his appendages against the dry, dry curve of the shuttle and tried to ignore the chrono-display on the cabin wall. The steady rotation of the central sphere and the subtle alteration in the light only served to remind him of how long it would be before it would be responsible to take his next soak. Even then the water on the shuttle tasted of sterile ionization, but it was water. Twistunder reached out and switched the readout in front of him to the next page. The information was more than interesting, it was tide-turning news in the Survey Corps’ understanding of the migration patterns they were studying.
Twistunder shifted again and wondered why Human Friend Mack Dodge had left the main cabin. Having even one human present was enough to raise the ambient moisture in the air significantly, but this was the only room where it was warm enough for that to be useful. With another irritated prod at the dry floor Twistunder shuffled away from the interesting report and began hunting through the shuttle for the human. Of course he could have just commed Human Friend Mack Dodge, or asked the system where the human’s comm signal was coming from, but it was going to be a long acceleration back to the base and a hunt was a sort of entertainment. Sort of.
Twistunder far too quickly, found Human Friend Mack Dodge sitting cross-legged in the open observation deck at the top of the shuttle. The human appeared to have paused halfway through stripping out of his drift-suit and was staring out at the space ahead of them. Twistunder happily noted that the surfaces of the shuttle were noticeably more moisture rich hear and shuffled up beside the human.
“Beautiful,” the human said in a low tone but there was something uneasy in the sound that drew Twistunder’s attention out, away from his own discomfort. The human’s half dressed state left enough of his skin visible to give Twistunder a good look at how the human’s internal light danced over his stripes and the Undulate gave a concern hum.
Human Friend Mack Dodge was a very, very particular species of frightened. It was a kind that Twistunder had observed just often enough to recognize, though he had hardly begun to sound its depths. The human was seeing, or might be perceiving thought any sense really but seeing made the most sense in the context of the observation level, something that resembled on of his particular culture’s superstitions. Such situations gave the human lights a strange pattern, will and focus overpowering often genetically driven fear. Twistunder gave himself a shake and climbed into Human Friend Mack Dodge’s lap.
The human dropped a hand and gave him an absent pat, but did not change the vector his eyes indicated. Twistunder spread his leading appendages and absorbed the light of the nebula. Ahead of them the orange golds of the nebula gasses were cut through the the transits of hundreds of spacecraft. There were none on the sensors now, this was a slack time for travel, but enough passed this way on a regular basis that the path was visible as a corridor of thinner gasses. At the moment their own shuttle was passing through one of the sections where the lesser space whales’ migration path crossed this corridor. It was unquestionably visually interesting, with the twisting clouds of excrement catching the light in opalescent shapelessness, and there was a very real, if statistically improbable chance of a collision with a space whale. However that was a simple physical danger, and Human Friend Mack Dodge’s nervous system barely seemed to register those.
Though he knew their vastly different visual systems made it a difficult task Twistunder focused on what would be the most striking visual in the scene to the human. Of course he could just ask. Their relationship was close enough that Twistunder was confident that Human Friend Mack Dodge would be at least as honest with him as he was with himself. But where was the fun in a simple question when you might startle your friend with your observational abilities.
The most interesting thing in the otherwise empty corridor of space was the clouds of space whale ‘poo’ as the humans called it. The space whales excreted their waste in long, fibrous strands from two glands on the lagging ends of their bodies. A very recent discovery in fact. This resulted in two, closely spaced tubes that evaporated and gradually separated over time in the stillness of space. As the waste matter aged, much of it caught the gentle solar winds of the region and spread out in an effect not unlike the thin fog that formed over water on a cool day. The main two strands expanded and separated from each end, remaining attached at the center. Those same solar winds catching the loose ends and causing them to sway gently. The resulting shape was, Twistunder noted with a sudden trickle of inspiration, of a very similar shape and ratio to the bilateral symmetry of a human body. In fact…
“If you discount color and density,” Twistunder observed out loud, causing Human Friend Mack Dodge to jump slightly, “The space whale poo bears some resemblance to a human body.”
“You see it too?” Human Friend Mack Dodge asked, his heart rate accelerating and his colors flushing with relief and increased uneasiness both. “You never heard a humans say it first?”
“I have never heard a human say such a thing no,” Twistunder affirmed.
Human Friend Mack Dodge gave a laugh and made a weak attempt to adjust his position.
“Spooks is what they look like,” he said, still staring out at the scene.
“What are spooks?” Twistunder asked.
“Imagine,” Human Friend Mack Dodge said softly, “imagine if you took all the energy of a person. Their thoughts, their will, their actions and after they died you all that energy just, escaped the body and went wandering. That is what those spooks would look like to us.”
“Fascinating,” Twistunder said, taking the thought in his appendages and rotating it. “And when your explorers came upon the first space whale spoors it caused the speculation of these ‘spooks’?”
Human Friend Mack Dodge gave a short bark of laughter.
“No Twist, we brought the spooks with us from our home world. The idea was already there when the first poor spacer caught sight of one of those giant, body shaped figures moving past his port.”
“This idea is not pleasant to you,” Twistunder observed.
“Spooky is kind of by definition not pleasant,” the human admitted.
“They why do you choose to be here in the cold observation nook while we pass through the spooky area-” Twistunder paused as a memory drifted down to him, “and why did you choose this corridor through the nebula. There was an equivalent route available?”
Human Friend Mack Dodge laughed and unfolded his legs.
“Because sometimes something a little spooky is just what a man wants,” he said.
Twistunder processed that through the distraction of the movement.
“You enjoy being frightened?” he finally asked.
“When it’s like this,” Human Friend Mack Dodge said gesturing out the observation bubble. “Opalescent figures dancing along a black road studded with diamond stars and the softly glowing orange of the nebula laced through with the ebony of deep space beyond. It’s beautiful, eerie, I like it.”

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Humans are Weird - Reaction

11/28/2025

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Humans are Weird - Reaction

Humans are Weird – Reaction

Excited clicking flowed down the pathway ahead of the youngest members of the wing. The gliding thermals of the homeworld forbid any officer call them fluffy, but they were, Wing Commander Eighth Trill mused as the speakers swept forward and landed around him, bouncing with eagerness.
“Do you want to see the human jump?”
“He’s obviously terrified.”
“But there’s no threat!”
“Did it to himself!”
“Might share the food with us if he notices us!”
“But he can’t notice us before the alert!”
The speakers paused for a beat and Wing Commander Eighth Trill sighed and carefully placed the paper notes he was examining in his satchel.
“Very well,” he said. “Let’s go watch the human jump.”
There was a wave of trills as the youngsters took off, and an equally intense wave of sighs as many horned elders behind him stretched off of their perches.
“How did we ever get in a stream with this big of an age distribution gap?” the Wing Second muttered as he took off.
“That is for the university to determine,” the Wing Commander replied. “And be honest, aren’t you a little curious to see what makes the human jump?”
“Maybe a little,” the Wing Second agreed in a grumbling tone.
They exited the pathway and flew out into the cavernous reaches of the human communal spaces. Which human the youngsters were talking about was immediately obvious. There were three humans in the space, but two of them were sprawled out sleeping on the ‘couches’. The only currently mobile human was a male in the center of the food preparation area. The absurdly long mammal was bracing the fatty portion of his center point against the lip of the preparation surface. Every muscle in the human’s body was stiff with tension. His eyes were flicking back and forth over the various items and foodstuffs on the preparation surface, but kept coming back to the light display that was blinking on the surface of one of the heating units.
“Fifty-five seconds left!”
“Watch, watch, watch!”
“He should know!”
“He does know!”
“He set the timer!”
The youngsters were chittering deliberately too high for the human to hear and the medic scolded them for rudeness. They argued the point long enough that Wing Commander Eighth Trill thought he might actually be the only one who was watching the human directly when the timer-countdown reached zero. As predicted the human twitched violently,, his arms coming up as if to protect his hears from the sound, which was rather harsh, before he lunged at the heating unit. The human’s thick finger fumbled the the first touch and then jabbed at the control surface a second time before successfully silencing the alert. The sound eliminated the human heaved a sigh of relief and glanced over at his sleeping companions.
“Maybe he is concerned about the quality of the other humans’ sleep?” the medic suggested.
“It’s not their sleep cycle,” Wing Commander Eighth Trill replied, truly curious now.
“Besides, we’ve seen him throw boots at sleeping wingmates!”
There was a ripple of laughter as the flight watched the human remove his food from the heating unit.
“Oohh, is that?”
“That’s meat!”
“Juicy meat!”
“Fluff your fur! It’s time to beg!”
The youngsters, apparently not minding being sen as fluffy when there was food on the offer, flitted down to catch the eye of the human. Wing Commander Eighth Trill felt his ears twitch.
“Why does the human find the timer so stressful?” the medic grumbled.

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Humans are Weird - Bigger

11/17/2025

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Humans are Weird - Bigger

“The extraction process is very involved,” Second Sister explained as she pulled out the beautiful little canister.
Second Father and the first three Cousins had spent the entire growth season designing the shape, the patterns, and the scent profile of the containers to be pleasing to both humans and Shatar. They had decided on a shape roughly the size of the seed pods that produced the products the containers held, with concessions for making it able to sit evenly in the flat surface of a human cupboard. The surface was etched with representations of the leafs and flowers of the plant.
“Oh! This is nice!” Sift exclaimed and she heaved herself up on her hind legs and sniffed at the container. “And you say you managed to distill the volitiles without sacrificing the nutrient profile?”
“It is not a distillation process per se,” Second Sister corrected her. “It is more a-”
“What is that smell?” a human voice suddenly demanded, “It is delicious!”
“Mary!” Sift called out, “Come flick your tongue over this! The Shatar have developed a simply delightful scented nutrient blend just in time for harvest gifts!”
Mary came over, balancing her single hatchling on her wide, round hips. She looked eagerly at the items that Second Sister showed her, but visibly lost interest when it was explained that the fluid was meant to be applied topically.
“This looks interesting,” Mary said as she swayed her towering form away from them with an apologetic bob of her very round head. “But I came to get the snacks I stored in the community fridge.”
“Is your little one eating solid foods yet?” Second Sister asked, tilting her triangular head in interest even as she carefully placed the container back in the basket.
“Nope!” Mary announced as she bent herself around both the very, very plump baby on her hip so she could reach into the low refrigeration unit provided for day use in this community space. “These are snacks for me! I have the nursing munchies you know!”
“Yes,” Second Sister observed, falling silent a moment and resting her hands on her basket as she examined Mary, tilting her head this way and that.
Mary happily munched down on the layers of bread, protein, and leafy greens she had brought from her home-nest, seemingly unconcerned with the scrutiny. Granted most of the human’s attention was given to preventing her little one from snatching the snack for himself. Finally the Shatar straightened and gave an attention click. Mary glanced at her with a smile rounded by the food in her mouth.
“Are you larger by mass than you were last time I was in this area?” Second Sister finally asked.
Mary paused in her chewing and blinked rapidly.
“Oh!” Sift exclaimed. “Yes, Shatar don’t really understand proper chewing. Don’t worry Mary I can answer this one for you, just focus on enjoying that bread!”
“You smell,” Sift said turning to the Shatar, “When a female has to carry their offspring inside of them, the joined zygote stage you know, well that takes a lot of energy. We reptile types don’t do that nearly as long as a mammal but we still have to prepare, our bodies I mean, metabolically.”
“How do you know so much as to answer for a human?” Second Sister asked.
“A reasonable question,” Sift commented, “and that is actually why I have been spending so much time with Mary and her family. I wanted to observe the process of, well I think you Shatar would say watching a First Sister become a First Mother.”
Second Sister curled an antenna to show she was following.
“The point is that in order to reproduce inside yourself you need a lot of stored energy, just in case something goes wrong an you can’t eat because of localized food shortages or even gastric illness,” Sift went on. “The solution is to build up fat deposits. Very easy if you don’t have an exoskeleton to worry about having to shed. My mother, at least my father says so, though he is biased naturally-”
“Naturally,” agreed the Shatar with an amused set to her mandibles.
“He says she had the fattest tail in the colony by the time my clutch was laid, and it stayed that way so that she had to deliberately exercise it off after we were walking!”
Sift felt her throat puff up a little in pride at the memory.
“But isn’t Human First Mother Mary finished with this reproductive cycle?” Second Sister asked.
“No, no, no!” Sift exclaimed. “She is a mammal remember! She is burning copious calories producing all that milk from her mammary glands! Her body won’t let her mass go down until that stage is well over. Until then her thighs are going to be round and plump! Humans have no external tail you know, so they can’t store it there.”
Mary finished chewing the sandwich and gave them a smile as she arranged her child on her hip.
“A fine explanation,” she said to Sift. “Caio friends!”
Second Sister watched the human leave and her frill rippled uneasily.
“Did we offend Human First Mother Mary?” she asked.
“Not that I saw,” Sift replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Her pheromone profile shifted dramatically during our conversation,” Second Sister said. “I am not very familiar with human pheromones but hers did seem offended.”
“Well if she was, it almost certainly didn’t have anything to do with us,” Sift assured her. “Personal knowledge informs me that Mary is very open to my discussing her biology, and why would any thinking person be offended by a discussion of how successful her body was at supporting her offspring?”

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Humans are Weird – Touch Down

11/8/2025

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Humans are Weird – Touch Down

“That is the seventh,” Third Sister said with a satisfied click as she marked the video feed on her screen with a timestamp.
“Show it to me! Show it to me!” First Brother cried out, all four feet dancing with eager delight.
Third Sister clicked with amusement and squatted down so he could see how she was marking the time and occurrence.
“He twitched and frowned and brushed it off!” First Brother stated eagerly.
“Quite, and as proof I am now saving it to upload to the hive network here,” she explained as she demonstrated.
“So all the Sisters who wanted to can do their bets?” First Brother asked.
“No,” Third Sister corrected him, “the Sisters and Aunts placed all their bets before I started this recording. That makes it fair.”
“Oh! Because it’s already been seven times!” First Brother exclaimed. “Everyone would want to change their bets to bigger numbers.”
He paused, rocking back and forth on his legs, before titling his pale green head to the side.
“What did you bet?” He asked.
“As an official I cannot ethically participate in the betting,” Third Sister stated.
“Second Sister made you do this so she could bet?” First Brother asked.
Third Sister’s antenna coiled in annoyance.
“Be still,” she said, “the detritavore is approaching Human Brother Unicus again.”
First Brother made a valiant effort to be still as they both turned their attention, and Second Sister turned her recording tablet on the massive male human who was sprawled out across a rock, basking in the weak solar radiation available in this hemisphere at this time of the year. He had shed over half of his usual clothing to more efficiently catch the radiation he needed for critical nutrient formation displaying the fact that the majority of his body was covered in thick, black sensory hairs. While most humans had such hairs in Third Sister’s experience she had never seen such density.
Fortunately for her purposes Human Brother Unicus had felt the time pass heavily and was reading to
amuse himself. His focus on the reading material left him not only unaware of their presence but particularly susceptible to the events they were here to record.
A local flying insect, as large as Third Sister’s thumb and sporting a brilliant iridescent sheen was slowly circling its way through the air towards Human Brother Unicus. The “winter flies” a the humans called them, were carnivorous detritavores, waking in the cold portions of the hemisphere feed and breed.
“When do you think he is going to scream though?” First Brother asked.
“I do not think he will,” Third Sister stated. “He is much to large a human to emit a scream in a non-life threatening situation. He will grunt loudly. It is all a human with such a massive chest cavity can manage.”
“Why are humans so freaked out about the winter flies anyway?” First Brother asked as Third Sister timestamped the creature’s final approach.
“It is an instinctive avoidance of disease transmission,” Third Sister explained. “One of us responds much the same way if the coating on our outer membrane starts to fail.”
First Brother paused his near constant movement and tilted his head at her in perplexity.
“They are afraid they will get sick if the winter flies touch them,” Third Sister tried again, “and it is a smart thing to be afraid of.”
At that moment the insect touched down on the particularity dense hairs on the human’s thick arm and every visible muscle on the human seemed to undergo a spasm. He leap up from his perch, slapped the patch of skin the insect had touched, and gave a loud, high-pitched distress sound.
“Looks like it was good you didn’t bet!” First Brother said, dancing sideways in his amusement.
Third Sister didn’t dignify that with a response as she dutifully logged the response.
“He is getting the portable insect repellent field generator out of his bag,” she said. “We can gather no more data here.”
“Why didn’t he get out the generator when he first got to the rock?” First Brother asked as they trekked back to the main hive.
“I do not know,” Third Sister replied.
“Why didn’t he get the generator out after the first time the winter fly landed on him?” First Brother pressed.
“I do not know,” she said again.
“Why didn’t he slap at the fly any of the previous times it touched-”
“First Brother,” Third Sister interjected abruptly. “Are you genuinely asking me these questions or do you just want to ponder into the canopy?”
First Brother paused and pondered over that a moment.
“Ponder into the canopy!” he finally decided before skipping along the trail again. “The hive knows that humans don’t make sense so I know you can’t answer.”
Third Sister watched him trot down the trail with amusement before following.

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Humans are Weird – After

10/29/2025

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Humans are Weird – After

The alarms always would go off just as one’s scutes molded nicely to the sleeping rock. Commander Pulp heaved a sigh and began the laborious process of peeling his eyes open. He had been reasonably sure he had washed all the grain dust out of his scales before settling down for the short night, but as he began twitching his limbs in preparation for sliding to the floor he could swear he felt grit in his seams. He wished the alarms could be a less annoying sound, but that thought was cut short by a distant twang and following thump that had him instantly awake and on the cold floor, blinking wide open eyes rapidly as he scrambled for the comm unit. He hovered his forepaw over it hesitatingly as a massive series of thumps vibrated the floor.
“The night watch will have this,” Commander Pulp grumbled to himself as he turned and darted for the door.
Answering an unnecessary comm call in the middle of an emergency would not help whoever was dealing with this, a moving body might. Commander Pulp made it to the largest storage annex before he located the source of the sound. The massive storage bags of blood grain, the ones being prepared for shipment to the more distant colonies and space stations in this solar system were currently being dried. They were suspended in a vast, climate controlled barn, on thick cords. It was a primitive method, with obvious hazards, but the more explosive dangers of using repulsor tech in enclosed environments with dedicated grain dust were deemed the grater risk. All this ran through Commander Pulp’s mind as he took in the scene of the tumbled bags of grain, the tangled rigging cables, and the human with his back pressed against one bag, a long leg trapped under another, and his hands holding a taught cable off of his exposed neck.
Commnader Pulp bit his tongue as the urge to bellow out orders bubbled though his gut. The night watch was doing a wonderful job, had already responded just as Commander Pulp would have. His interference as commander would only confuse things. It came as a palpable wave of relief when the night watch officer roared out that it was safe and whoever was closest should go help the trapped human escape.
Commander Pulp dashed forward across the floor, the grain dust catching in his claws. He had never really realized, never thought about how utterly fragile a human neck was. They didn’t even have scutes to protect that thin tube of cartilage that served as both oxygen exchange and feeding tube. He reached Grimes and the human rolled his eyes to give him a grim smile. Commander Pulp quickly shoved his snout under the straining cable and wriggled forward until it rested on his shoulders.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Grimes whispered as his hands relaxed and he slumped back against the grain bag with a grimace.
Commander Pulp gave a confused snort as two more lizard folk arrived and began shifting the other bag off of Grimes leg. The statement was clearly a humorous attempt to ignore the discomfort of the situation but it was also simply factual.
“I don’t think I want to do this again either,” Commander Pulp agreed.
Grimes gave a gasp of laughter as his leg was freed and he slid down the larger bag to land on the floor. The human began the always delicate process of determining if his leg was too injured to walk as Commander Pulp eased back from his position, keeping tension on the cable so it didn’t snap down until he was out from under it. Grimes was on his feet now, clearly putting experimental pressure on his injured leg. While the human grimaced, he didn’t ask for assistance to return to his sleeping quarters when the night watch declared the situation under control and ordered all off-shift personnel out of the way. Commander Pulp gave a look around and satisfied himself that it was in fact under control before following Grimes out of the room.
“Is this what humans call limping?” he asked.
Grimes blinked down at him and grinned ruefully.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “My ankle hurt when I stood up, but it can take all of my weight without much pain now. I think it just got a little twist, but I’ll make sure to check in with the base doctor tomorrow morning.” The human added hurriedly when Commander Pulp began to squint at him.
Satisfied. Commander Pulp trotted back to bed. It seemed that he had barely gotten comfortable when his comm unit buzzed. He slapped it with his tail and grunted.
“Commander Pulp Can you come assist me…in my quarters?” Grimes’s voice was tense with pain, but the mere fact that the human had asked for help was enough to, once again, wake up Commander Pulp instantly.
He scrambled out of his room and tore down the corridor to Grimes’s room. He burst through the door and saw Grimes sprawled over his sleeping surface, various long limbs still under his blankets and one leg dangling over the edge.
“Please lift my injured leg back up on the bed,” Grimes gasped out. “Push up from the bottom.”
Commander Pulp digested that a moment, then eased forward and carefully braced his forehead against the soft arch of Grimes’s foot.
“Like that.” Grimes confirmed with a pained grunt.
It was fairly east to get Grimes’s limbs back on his soft sleeping surface, and slightly harder to get him into the supine position that humans favored when injured. The soft, spongy material of the sleeping surface did not help but eventually they got all the long limbs arranged and Grimes heaved a sigh of relief.
“It was my understanding that your limb was not injured in any significant way,” Commander Pulp said cautiously.
Grimes gave a harsh bark of laughter but his body was visibly relaxed.
“That was my understanding too,” he said. “My ankle barely hurt last night, but when I tried to get up this morning, well-” He waved a hand at his leg.
“It does not appear to be swolen,” Commander Pulp observed in confusion.
Grimes squinted at his ankle and nodded in agreement.
“What kind of injury is this?” Commander Pulp asked.
“Search me if I know,” Grimes said with a sigh. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore if I don’t move. It doesn’t hurt that bad if I put weight on it. It only hurts when I lift my leg.”
“Shall I call the base doctor for you?” Commander Pulp asked.
“I don’t know,” Grimes said thoughtfully, twisting his torso to look at his personal bathroom. “I think I can just wrap it and -”
Commander Pulp heaved himself up and dropped across the human’s chest pinning him down.
“Shall I call Doctor Drawing for you?” Commander Pulp asked again, making aggressive eye contact with the human.
Grimes stared at him defiantly for a long moment before heaving a sigh.
“Yes, please send Doctor drawing,” he muttered.
“Wonderful,” Commander Pulp said cheerfully, dropping down to the floor. “He will be here shortly. And who can ferment it, maybe he will know how and why your weird, lanky body decided to hide an injury from you.”

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Humans are Weird - Giggles

10/23/2025

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Humans are Weird - Giggles

The spider walks in this part of the colony were doubled tiered and massively reinforced. Spacestation grade carbosteel beams wrapped around the lower levels of the massive human rooms at about a third the height of an average adult human. The dark carbosteel beams of the upper tier were replace by clear tubes with communication windows. The humans had formally named it sub-adult interaction access, but everyone called it the ‘petting zoo’.
Fff’sss trotted happily along the tube and gave an idle thought thread to wondering if she wanted to know the source of the faint, oddly unpleasant smell that lingered in some places. Human Friend Susie and Human Friend Bobby were leaning their heads together examining the dark surface of the ‘sandwich board’ the human young used for writing practice. They were alternately reading out something they had written on the board and then making that high-pitched sound that was something like an amused chitter.
Fff’sss reached the point where they could reasonably be expected to hear her and called out to the two small humans.
“Hello children!” she called out.
Both humans gasped as if frightened and gave startled jumps. Then, instead of turning to greet Fff’sss Human Friend Susie spread her arms as if to hide the surface of the sandwich board and hissed at Human Friend Bobby.
“’Rase it! ‘Rase it!”
Human Friend Bobby obediently snatched up the rag that was attached to the sandwich board and scrubbed frantically as something written in the soft powder markings. Presumably when they thought the marks had been well enough effaced they spun and ‘grinned’ widely at Fff’sss, both of them still chittering.
“Hello Friend Fizzy!” they said together.
Then they glanced at each other and chittered more intensely.
“Greetings small human friends,” Fff’sss said, “what is that sound you are making.”
They increased the sound for a moment and then grinned at her.
“Gigglin’,” Human Friend Bobby finally said.
“With a g,” Human Friend Susie corrected him.
“I said the g,” Human Friend Bobby protested, only to get ‘thumped’ by Susie.
“At the end,” Human Friend Susie explained. “There’s gotta be a g sound at the end.”
“Giggling?” Fff’sss asked, striving to enunciate the depth of the g sound that human language required.
The two small humans burst into intense laughter at this.
“And what was making you giggle?” Fff’sss asked.
She wasn’t sure if they little humans simply weren’t aware of how Trisk eyes worked, or if they were simply bad at ‘erasing’ things written on the sandwich board, but she could clearly see the short series of numbers they had written.
However instead of answering her they both turned to look at the sandwich board, burst out giggling louder, and sprinted to the far side of the room to burrow into the pile of pillows there. Fff’sss patted her paws on her forelimbs in amusement. Clearly these young sapients were being ‘naughty’. Though how writing a few numbers could be considered naughty she didn’t know. Nevertheless they were clearly done interacting with her so she trotted along the spider walk until she reached the exit and moved up to the adult level so she could speak with the parents of the little ones who were currently sitting around a table drinking mild stimulants heated to almost dangerous levels.
“Hey Fff’sss!” Human Friend Megan called out, waving the drink at her.
“Greetings Human Friend Megan,” Fff’sss replied. “Might I ask a question about your children's behavior?”
Human Friend Megan emitted a groan and began the precarious operation of unfolding her full length to stand.
“What’d they do now?” she asked.
“Nothing harmful,” Fff’sss assured her. “They were simply ‘giggling’ at some apparently random numbers they had written on the board, and they apparently made some attempt to hide the numbers from me. As if the numbers, or the act of writing them, was transgressive in some way.”
Both adult human laughed and Human Friend Robert nodded his head.
“Yeah, the cousins visited and one of the older ones brought word of the latest funny numbers from the main colony,” he explained.
“What are the funny numbers?” Fff’sss asked, interest ruffling her hairs.
“Oh, they change every few generations,” Human Friend Robert explained, leaning back as if he expected the explanation to take some time. “It’s always a cultural connection of some sort that associates the numbers with something , mostly something vulgar or forbidden.”
“Sometimes it is a code used by law enforcement,” Human Friend Megan offered. “Sometimes its a bodily function.”
“Yeah, good old number two has really fallen out of favor as a funny number the past few generations,” Human Friend Robert said with a mournfully sigh and a thoughtful silence fell over the humans.
Fff’sss waited the polite six seconds and asked.
“What do these new funny numbers represent?”
“No clue,” Human Friend Robert replied cheerfully.
Human Friend Megan shrugged her shoulders in confirmation of their ignorance and then their conversation and attention drifted back to the topic they had been discussing before. Whatever the imagined transgression the little ones thought they were preforming the adults of the species clearly found it of little consequence other than amusement.

Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - On Again Off Again

10/17/2025

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Humans are Weird - On Again Off Again

Taps-a-lot hummed happily to himself as he set the large flat rock carefully back in its place and gently released the little amphibian that tasted of confidence and irritation back to squirm under it. Above him the sound of Human Friend Ryan singing an accompaniment drifted down through the water of the straight. Tabps-a-lot took a final image of the amphibian’s micro-habitat, with the dense algae poking out of every nook and cranny, then pushed off the rock he was resting on and swam out over the deep crevice that formed the center of the narrow strip of water between the hard granite walls.
“...would you rather swing on a star? Carry moonbeams home in a jar?”
“And be better off than you are?” Taps-a-lot called back.
Ryan tried to keep a straight face but after several long moments of the colors on his face flashing with his internal struggle he burst out laughing and the stripes on his face glowed with delight.
“You are doing great Taps!” Human Friend Ryan assured him. “Your rhythm is perfect!”
“And my articulation and emotional tone?” Taps-a-lot pressed as he swam up and came to rest on the transport that floated conveniently a third of an und below the surface of the water.
Human Friend Ryan paused with his lips peeled back to reveal his only protruding bone structure for a long moment before laughing.
“Your rhythm is perfect!” Human Friend Ryan said again. “Now it is break time and it turns out that these so called waterproof boots weren’t after all.”
“That is odd,” Taps-a-lot said, nudging the flexible shields the human wore to protect the soft flesh of his feet. “They are very much praised by other humans for prolonged times of work in the narrows. All said their tootsies were toasties.”
“You probably don’t want to use that phrase in casual conversation with adults,” Human Friend Ryan pointed out as he shifted his mass to guide the transport down the narrows towards where they had left the excess of their tools. “Tootsies were toasties. That is considered baby-talk.”
“It was in official documentation,” Taps-a-lot pointed out.
“Product reviews have very different grammar standards than academic sources,” Human Friend Ryan replied as they glided up to their pile of tools. “There is even an incentive to be funny so folks are entertained by your reviews. Because outright lying would be counterproductive, using humorously inappropriate language is a frequent occurrence.”
Human Friend Ryan guided the transport right up against the edge of the narrows, then let it sink down just far enough that he could sit comfortably on the bank. Taps-a-lot checked that their samples from the day were secure in their isolation cages and then scrambled up the humans legs and back out into the grip of gravity, unalloyed by the welcoming embrace of the water. Human Friend Ryan then rotated the rest of his body up and out of the water and walked over to the rock he used as a sitting surface. Taps-a-lot saw that the shielding, the ‘boots’ were releasing water with every step.
“I hope your tootsies were not abraded due to water exposure,” Taps-a-lot said, feeling a wriggle of delight when Human Friend Ryan gave him the ‘side-eye’ humans were so famous for.
“My tootsies are not,” Human Friend Ryan confirmed as he peeled off the boots and gave them each a vigorous shake to get the water off of them. “I was wearing socks, just in case.”
“I sound that perhaps you aligned the straps incorrectly,” Taps-a-lot pointed out helpfully. “The instructions said that the thinner straps must wrap-”
“Over tab B and into slot A, yes, yes,” Human Friend Ryan muttered as he peeled off his socks, a soft, protective layer to prevent abrasion and retain warmth, and wrung the water out of them. “Now, snacks for me and rest for you.”
Taps-a-lot felt no need to argue the point and happily scrambled up beside Human Friend Ryan to rest in the sunlight and maybe absorb a few dropped crumbs. Of course if he asked Human Friend Ryan would give him a whole snack of his own, but the dry travel snacks the humans seemed to prefer were best absorbed in small quantities when on the land. Once Human Friend Ryan was thoroughly rested and snacked he stood up and gave a long stretch. Taps-a-lot mimicked the gesture. Human Friend Ryan’s face lit with a smile, and then darkened with genuine distress as the human looked at his socks on the rock beside him.
“What wrong?” Taps-a-lot asked in concern, shuffling over to examine the socks.
“I forgot to bring a spare pair of socks,” Human Friend Ryan said, a deep groaning sound in his voice and colors of stress washing over his stripes.
“Why that a concern?” Taps-a-lot asked, nudging the socks with his gripping appendage. “These dry.”
“Remember your helping verbs Taps,” Human Friend Ryan said with a sigh as he bent to pick up the socks. “They might be dry, but they’re crusty now.”
“Crusty is?” Taps-a-lot asked.
“If you don’t mind touching my crusty socks feel for yourself,” Human Friend Ryan said, holding out a sock.
“I feel,” Taps-a-lot agreed as he turned the sock over in his appendages. “It does have a different feel than in the before time when I felt it.”
Human Friend Ryan took the sock and as he slid it over his bare foot his skin flushed with disgust.
“This is more unpleasant than when you were standing in water for several hours?” Taps-a-lot asked.
“No?” Human Friend Ryan said as he put both socked feet into his boots, this time being careful to attach the straps carefully.
“You are not confident, that was a state of being verb, not a helping verb,” Taps-a-lot pointed out.
Human Friend Ryan snorted with laughter and his colors started to even out.
“It’s not worse than before,” Human Friend Ryan said, “but before I was used to it. Once you aren’t used to crusty socks, or wet socks, it’s way worse putting them on than keeping them on.”
Taps-a-lot sounded those thoughts out as they moved back towards the water.

Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - Sneaky

10/10/2025

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Humans are Weird - Sneaky

“This is a vine you can grab,” First Father was saying to the human female beside him while gently patting her hand.
Gathers in the Gloaming rustled a nearby communication heap to let the pair of sapients know another awareness was active in this area and blearily tried to figure out what had called attention here. It was unusual for the local First Father to come this far from his hive, but there had been a deep friendship maturing between the human settlement and the Shatar hive for several generations. The two spaces were connected by a network of tall vineyards that gave Gathers in the Gloaming a rich source of sugars as well as deep shade where sensory appendages could lift out of the soil without fear of solar radiation damage. The vineyard corridors also allowed the small male Shatar to visit with confidence of safety, so First Father’s general presence was hardly surprising enough to draw attention.
Gathers in the Gloaming tasted the air and the tang of human stress pheromones manifested. Now rather interested Gathers in the Gloaming turned attention to visual information, debating a moment between exposing photosensitive fibers or simply using the local leaves. Deciding that precision was important Gathers in the Gloaming extended enough photosensitive fibers to bring the mobile sapients into focus.
The human, a younger but breeding age female was standing with her muscles tense staring with grim determination towards the arrival area for the settlement. The Shatar male, who barely came up past the human’s knees was continuing to speak and touching the human with soft, reassuring gestures. Gathers in the Gloaming noted that most of the phrases were reassurances that the human had high status associated with successful reproduction, and that she had a duty to protect her offspring. Gathers in the Gloaming was about to ask to join the conversation with a transport pulled up to the arrival area and the human female flexed her limbs and pulled away from the Shatar.
“You got this! As you mammals say,” the Shatar male said with a final pat of the human’s hand.
She grimaced down at the bright green Shatar and strode towards the transport, which was releasing several elderly humans, with determination.
“Did you wish to speak to me Gathers in the Gloaming?” First Father asked, angling his triangular head at the communication heap.
Gathers in the Gloaming hummed in confirmation as the tendrils of thought coiled around the question building.
“Who is Human Liea going to confront?” Gathers in the Gloaming asked.
First Father gave a wordless click and reached up to stroke an antenna in a thoughtful preening gesture before replying.
“Can’t you identify the arrivals on your own?” the Shatar asked, his pheromones tasting of mild amusement and perplexity.
“The arrivals are Human Liea’s First Father and Second Mother as well as several of her more distant relatives,” Gathers in the Gloaming confirmed. “I wished to know which of them Human Leia has a conflict with.”
First Father gave a click of amusement and turned to begin trotting towards the vineyard corridor where a small cluster of his mate’s sisters were waiting for him. As he moved he spoke.
“Before I tell you you must promise not to interfere. This is not something one can understand without the benefit of having both hatchlings of your own and present Grandmothers and Grandfathers.”
“I assume I can be trusted not to interfere having been given such a warning,” Gathers in the Gloaming assured him.
“Very well then,” First Father said. “Human First Mother Leia is preparing to restrict the amount of treats Human First Grandfather can give First Sister.”
First Father seemed to think this an ample explanation and continued towards his mate’s Sisters. Gathers in the Gloaming framed another question.
“Human Leia was releasing many stress pheromones, does she expect her...Human First Grandfather to defy her wishes and continue supplying Human First Sister with these treats?”
“I suppose,” First Father said, pausing to angle an eye back towards where the humans were greeting each other, “that depends on how well this confrontation goes, and how ‘sneaky’ was the word she used, Human First Godfather turns out to be.”
“I understand that you are suggesting that Human First Grandfather is going to attempt to subvert Human First Mother Leia’s attempts to maintain her child’s diet. However I do not understand the stress she is experiencing,” Gathers in the Gloaming admitted as First Father resumed his walk. “Is it likely that a Grandfather would do something that would cause harm to his own genetic branching?”
First Father gave a click of amusement.
“It is not about harm,” he said with a dismissive flick of his antenna. “It is, what is the word Second Aunt used? Social authority! When a Grandfather or Grandmother isn’t pulling the same vine as the Father, or I suppose the Mother in this case, it can make the hive unnecessarily tangled, but don’t worry about Human First Mother Leia, she might be small for a human but she has a stance to her hind legs that would surprise you for all that. This is just a natural grove in the garden of life.”
First Father reached the Sisters and they began chattering with him about his visit.
Gathers in the Gloaming followed their conversation with mild interest. If understanding was growing correctly First Father was suggesting that not only was there some sort of social competition between human generation for social control of developing offspring, but the concept was similar enough for the Shatar to not only sympathize but to offer useful advice and support.
That still left the question, what possible underlying harm could there be in a Grandfather, covertly or not, gifting too many treats?

Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - Flats

10/1/2025

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Humans are Weird - Flats

Sift gently held the ‘tart’, a tangy thing with lots of citrus, between her teeth and nudged it with her tongue. On the floor in front of her the small human was ‘chasing’ the family pet around the human dwelling. Most human snacks were distressingly soft, lasing only moments if you gave them any kind of bite at all and this one was no exception. So Sift divided her attention between not crushing the pastry and grunting out encouragements to the small human who had only just managed to get all four limbs to work together enough to crawl.
Mary, the human’s mother was busy rearranging the seasonal decorations that represented the current state of the majority of the domestic plants in the colony. The general trend Sift had seen so far was a change from bright yellows and greens to a more subdued soil and orange color pattern. At the moment Mary was crooning a song all about the ‘harvest moon’ while arranging some flowers in a vase.
The human had prepared a confined space for her child that was essentially a hyper clean scoop. The floor was flat and smooth and Mary was constantly examining it for any small thing the child might put in its mouth. Just now the little one ‘caught’ the animal began squeezing its face. The animal wrinkled in annoyance. Sift was about to warn Mary of the behavior but the animal took the situation into its own paws and leapt over the short fence Mary used to isolate the space. The little human sat up and watched the animal retreat with a wide, toothless grin. Mary laughed softly letting Sift know she had been watching.
The last of the tart dissolved and Sift smacked her teeth appreciatively.
“Would you like another lemon tart Sift?” Mary asked, already stepping towards the refrigeration unit.
“If you insist,” Sift demure. The human expression really was exactly right for accepting more treats.
“I do!” Mary replied opening the refrigeration unit.
However before she could isolate one of the tarts a horrific shriek of pain came from the isolation area. Sift snapped her head around but knew that she could never make it over the fence in time to offer aid. Mary however, had already set the container of tarts down beside her with a thump, and had stepped over the fence as if it wasn’t there. Those long legs did come in useful now and then. Sift mused and the human snatched up her child.
Oddly Sift could see nothing wrong. The child was in exactly the same position he had been the moment before. On it’s knees staring after the retreated pet. Even Mary seemed perplexed by her offspring's sudden distress. She was turning the baby this way and that,thitched mammalian cries were difficult to interpret. Finally the little one gave a sad little coo, and dropped his round, round head against Mary’s shoulder. Mary gave the flat, open surface of the floor a perplexed look and set the child back down. Seeing that the human was now mentally out of the fermentation vat Sift waved her tail for attention.
“Any theories on what caused your little soft-scale’s distress?” Sift asked.
“I was hoping you saw something,” Mary admitted, pushing her hair back from her face with a rueful smile.
“I did not,” Sift admitted. “I am sorry. I am being a bad hatchling guest.”
“No. no.” Mary said with a laugh. “Kiddo was on a soft, flat, clean surface. It should have been fine to look away a moment.”
“And yet you feel guilty,” Sift pointed out, more of an educated guess than an observation. “Why shouldn’t I?”
Mary’s skin flushed red and she laughed before letting her body suddenly fold down into a chair with a gusty sigh.
“How do fresh humans manage to hurt themselves on, on nothing?” Mary demanded.
“I have no answer,” Sift replied, as the last pit of tart dissolved on her tongue. “My littlest brother would never have hurt himself on such a surface, however give him a nice smooth gravel scoop?”
She clacked her teeth in exasperation at recalling how the supposedly ‘safe’ scoop she had prepared had failed the soft little hatchling.
“He still has that mysterious scar.”
Mary gave her a grateful smile and Sift watched the now happy infant scrambling across the floor.
“A universal mystery,” Sift declared, “may I have another tart?”

Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - Reaction

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Humans are Weird - Bigger

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Humans are Weird – Touch Down

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Humans are Weird – After

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Humans are Weird - Giggles

Humans are Weird - Giggles

Humans are Weird - On Again Off Again

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