Chapter 27, "Killing Wemjox"
The problem with killing off Wemjox is that it turns out they were born with a forcefield protecting them from harm. Not as cool as laser vision or sweating poison, but certainly more convenient. (I hadn't bothered to check into the whole crapping rainbows thing. Wemjox could keep that one to themselves.)
I found this out pretty quickly, when I tried sneaking up behind them with an axe. First of all, given their ridiculous cadre of worshipers, ones that used to be my worshipers, getting an axe that close to them proved a pretty impressive task. But once I tried to swing it down and chop their creepy little body in half, a huge, iridescent blue dome whooshed up around them, stopping the axe mid-swing. And then they turned around to glare at me, and do some yelling, which was the worst part, if you ask me.
Over the next few months, it became a quest. What could I do to break that forcefield? There had to be something. So while Wemjox and crew were entertaining guests and forming allies for whatever stupid "purpose" they were supposedly here for, I spent my time concocting ways to murder them without triggering their natural protection mechanism.
Xlormp got a little worried about me once he figured out what I was doing.
"I don't believe that killing our spawn is the best way to present a positive role model," he whispered to me one night when I was getting his opinion on whether a flame thrower could trick the forcefield or not.
"I don't want to be a good role model, Xlormp. The thing is evil and needs to die."
Xlormp sighed. "What makes you so sure they are evil, and not just misunderstood?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "Seriously?"
He didn't seem to pick up the encyclopedias of implied information in my single word reply, so I went on with, "They told me I don't matter. You can't get much more evil than that."
Xlormp squeezed me with his flippers and rubbed his slime on my head. "Aw, my silly Friglepop, you matter to me!"
"Yes, but you're my husband. It's your job to care about me, so you don't count."
I'd discovered something about being married. It made everything a lot more boring. I mean, it was really exciting when Xlormp was a mysterious alien dude I had just met. And it was interesting when he came back after that time I thought I would never see him again, and I didn't know if he'd leave again for no reason so I better get all of my wriggling in while he was right there, you know? But now it was like he was around all the time. And he was all pumped about us having a baby together, and things were getting a wee bit predictable. I found my only joy came from my attempts at killing off said baby.
I did have one ally in this whole ploy. Christopher was more than willing to provide me with access to the weapons room, and give me detailed instructions on how to use each one.
"This is the creepiest baby I've ever had the misfortune of laying eyes upon," she confided in me one day as we dug through a pile of weapons that needed small repairs.
"Isn't it?" I agreed heartily. "Last time I ever have a baby, I'll tell you that much."
"Good. If every baby you have turns into some bizarre cult leader, maybe you should just have your uterus removed and save the world the trouble."
I hit her, just for the sake of impressing upon her that despite my lack of desire to ever reproduce again, marring any inch of my perfect body would be absolutely ridiculous.
"Sorry," Christopher apologized, aware she had foolishly said something foolish. "I'm just glad I'm able to keep Jessica out of all of this craziness. She seems content staying in her room most of the time, or going to the mall and stuff instead of catering to the baby's every whim." She stuck some pieces into some gun and cranked the whole apparatus around itself a few times, then she opened it again to examine the inside.
I thought about something with my thoughts, and I decided to bring it up to her. "Yeah, so, um, Jessica seems pretty nice these days. That's kind of different."
Christopher shrugged, cramming something shiny into a hole in the weapon. "She's been really helpful to me. You know. While you were going crazy and turning into an alien and we didn't think you'd ever come back."
I felt a little bad, but then I stopped, because that involves caring about someone other than myself. "Yeah, I guess. I'm surprised she's still hanging around, though."
Another shrug from Christopher. "She's got nowhere else to go. Apparently her family sucks and she has more freedom here. And free rent." She snapped the weapon shut and handed it to me. "There. The Wemble-Dysfunctioner scrambles molecules, maybe it can screw with the forcefield long enough to get a good shot at Wemjox."
I'd gotten pretty desperate for a little while, and asked Xlormp if I could use his interstellar communicator to call Schmeertz, who spent most of his days hanging with Mr. Leader and being irritated with the rest of us.
"Hey, Frig, good to hear from you," he said, which was always weird to hear from someone who had spent the past few years trying really hard to kill you. But that's precisely why I wanted to talk to him.
"Hey, Schmeertz, listen, I was wondering, you know how you used to try to kill me all the time?" I asked politely.
"Sure," he replied with surety.
"Well, I'm trying to kill this pair of babies with a forcefield around them, and I was wondering if you had any ideas for me."
I could almost hear his eyes rolling over the communicator. "Frig, please, I just got out of rehab. I can't go telling you how to kill people!"
I sighed obnoxiously. "Schmeertz, it's only half person. It's also half alien."
"Oh, well, that's okay, then. Have you tried poisoning its drink? That way you don't have to penetrate the forcefield, just leave the drink somewhere for the kid to find."
"That's brilliant!" I screeched. "Thanks so much!"
We chatted a little more about how Klaxie was slowly going crazy and how he really needed to find himself a new girl-slave and move on. Schmeertz agreed with me that Xlormp was pretty boring, and seemed pretty surprised that I hadn't noticed it earlier. He told me a little about how he and Mr. Leader were working on some ground breaking blowing-up-Earth plans. Then we said goodbye and I went to find some poison.
That didn't work either. Apparently, Wemjox can't sweat poison, but Jox can smell it. Super nose or some crap like that. Whatever.
In case you were curious, the flame thrower didn't work, either. Didn't fool the forcefield for a second.
Getting rid of my child was turning into a time-intensive project. What happened to the days when you could just drown them in the river, or leave them in a dumpster in a back alley somewhere?
Oh, well. I'd figure this out eventually. The thing had to have some weakness. And I'd find it.
Sometimes, you just need a chapter or two in your life.