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Read Ebook: Goma's Follicles by De Courcy Dorothy De Courcy John
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Ebook has 141 lines and 7316 words, and 3 pages
GOMA'S FOLLICLES
Captain Webster crumpled the message into a ball and threw it on the floor.
With obvious distaste, Captain Webster gathered his dignity about him like a cloak and started across the gangway. His feet had no more than touched the plastic tread when he stopped abruptly. A wild apparition came charging up the stairway, long, unkempt hair streaming in the wind. Down the gangway it ran and propelled the Captain violently backward into his ship.
Puffing and gasping for air, the Captain half lay in the arms of two spacemen who had caught him just before he reached the decking. Nothing of what the Captain said was understandable except the word "outrage" which he repeated often and vigorously.
"Now, now, now, please Captain," the long haired apparition pleaded. "Compose yourself. Don't get excited. I can explain everything. I'm Mr. Thurwinker of the Office of Colonial Development."
"Oh, oh," the Captain grunted. "The OCD, huh?" His anger evaporated and he struggled to his feet trying to look dignified again. "Well--I'm sure--ah--that is--no doubt you have a good reason for your actions, sir--ah--"
"Oh yes, indeed," Mr. Thurwinker replied, hastily, "but I can't stop now. I must impress on you, Captain, the urgency of your ship leaving as soon as possible. Yes, yes it's imperative! And you must remain out of sight. Don't show yourselves under any circumstances! I'll get your passenger now." Without another word, Mr. Thurwinker scurried out of the ship. He turned at the end of the gangway. "Remember Captain, don't let anyone see you. Keep out of sight. Yes indeed, out of sight!"
The open-mouthed Captain watched the OCD man scramble down the steps and reappear a moment later carrying a suitcase. He was followed by another man whose hair was also streaming down over his shoulders. The Captain's mouth sagged open an additional half-inch as the strange looking pair entered the ship.
Mr. Thurwinker set the bag down and shook hands with his companion. "Good-bye, Mr. Purcell. Have a nice trip home. We all regret seeing you go, yes indeed, regret it very much." He darted out of the ship for the second time. At the end of the gangway, he turned to face the Captain. "Oh yes, Captain. I must tell you! It's imperative--"
"I know!" the Captain roared. "And don't worry, Mr. Thurwinker! We're leaving this asylum immediately!"
Sam Purcell brushed his hair out of his face and extended a friendly hand to the Captain. "How do you do, Captain. I'm Sam Purcell, your new passenger."
Captain Webster stared at the outstretched hand as though it were a specimen from an anatomical laboratory. "Procyon IV's gain is my loss!" he snarled.
As the Captain stomped away, Sam turned his hand over to see if anything was wrong with it. "Unfriendly cuss," he observed to the spaceman beside him.
The spaceman smiled. "Just be thankful he isn't your boss."
Sam nodded. "I see what you mean," he replied.
"Shall I take your bag to your stateroom?" the spaceman asked.
"I'd be much obliged," Sam answered. "Is there a barber on this tub? I want to get rid of this mop as soon as I can."
"Yes sir," the spaceman said. "But wouldn't you like to go to your cabin first?"
Sam smiled. "No. I've been dreaming about this haircut for ages. Just tell me where my cabin is and take me to the barber shop!"
The spaceman nodded and picked up Sam's bag. Sam followed him down the companionway to the barber shop.
"Your stateroom is L-14, sir," the spaceman said. "It's the last cabin on the left at the end of this companionway."
"Thank you," Sam replied as he stepped into the shop.
The barber closed the book he was reading and jumped up. "Yes sir. What can--" He broke off in mid-sentence and gawked stupidly.
"I don't want a manicure," Sam chuckled as he slid into the chair.
The barber smiled sickly. "Ah--no, of course not," he agreed. He busied himself bundling Sam up in a transparent apron and then stepped back to view his client artistically. "Shall--I take--a little off the top?" he asked, hesitantly.
"Cut it off!" Sam snorted. "I want to look human again!"
The barber set to work chopping off great chunks of hair. Several times he opened his mouth to say something but the situation seemed to him beyond the range of normal conversation.
"I bet you're wondering how I got like this," Sam chuckled.
"Why--yes," the barber murmured. "That thought did occur to me. Ah--I don't suppose--ah--there are many barbers where you come from."
"That's the funny part of it," Sam replied. "We used to have a barber, a darn good one, too. Yup, he was one of the best in the business. I guess that was Roy's trouble. He was too good."
"But--but--how?" the barber interrupted.
"Mr. Thurwinker, the government agent," Sam continued, "started out right away dickering with the natives. It wasn't too hard to do cause they look a lot like us, considering what most of the inhabitants of other planets look like. Anyway, Thurwinker traded off half a ship load of gew-gaws and we got the crater.
"Our supplies started coming in and on the first ship was Roy, the barber. We built up a little town, the typical mining settlement, and got things pretty much underway. It took us about two months to get our soundings all lined up and then we found that the meteorite had struck the planet at quite an angle. It hadn't gone too far down but it had gone so far to one side that the thing was completely outside the crater. Mr. Thurwinker tried to bargain with the natives for the ground directly over the meteorite, but he didn't get very far. They didn't like him much and I can't say as I blame them. The natives let him know that they wanted to be left alone so we stayed in our little town.
"Well, there wasn't much of anything to do, so most of us just sat around, waiting for Thurwinker to make some kind of a bargain. He finally persuaded the Chief of the natives to talk the situation over with him."
Goma growled deeply in his barrel chest. "You have land. Why want you more?"
Thurwinker hesitated, trying to phrase the proper answer in Goma's language. "This land not good," he said, pointing to the crater. Then turning, "this land, good. We want good land."
"You cannot have land," Goma replied with classic simplicity.
"I gave you many things for bad land," Thurwinker answered. "I will give you more for good land."
"I not want things," Goma stated. "I keep land."
Thurwinker reverted to English. "My stars! How does the government expect me to bargain with creatures like this! Sometimes I think I was better off in the office. Yes indeed, much better off."
Goma regarded him with an unwinking stare. "You make noise like infant."
Thurwinker's lips compressed a little. "You give us land. We make you Big Chief. Chief of all you see."
"I am now Chief of all I see," Goma said.
Thurwinker made several more suggestions without any sign of success.
Goma stood up. "I go now," he announced.
"But, Chief!" Thurwinker protested.
Goma brushed him aside and strode out of the hut. He was joined by his retinue which closed in about him, rudely shoving Thurwinker to one side. In silence, the procession marched up the street, apparently ignoring everything. They were nearly past Roy's barber shop when one of the natives let out a screech and froze with one foot slightly off the ground. The others turned to look through the barber shop window and, as they did, emitted groans, yelps and gasps.
Roy stopped his cutting and looked at the natives. He studied them for a moment and then went back to snipping his customer's hair. As the scissors closed on a lock of hair, a simultaneous groan went up from the assembled natives. The expressions of horror became more and more intense as the man's hair fell to the floor in little tufts. A tall, muscular native quietly fainted. None of the others paid any attention to him. Their eyes were riveted in terrible fascination on the gleaming shears.
Soon the man stepped out of the barber chair and smiled at Roy as he slipped on his jacket. He stopped at the door and stared at the natives curiously. They fell back as he approached and a low mutter ran through the group.
Thurwinker had drifted up sometime during the performance and stood scratching his head. The man looked at Thurwinker with a puzzled frown. "What are they doing here?" he asked.
Thurwinker shrugged. "I don't know."
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