Nursing her fifth container of Nuvivian Vultar Master Brew in the wee hours of the Fifth Snarf Rising, Pnyxfrt lamented her previous impetuousness in rejecting the advances of Nofar…Nofar, a seventh level Gomba with the promise of a good nesting and much in the way of influential connections with the Elders of Farno. That is not what led Pnyxfrt to refuse the Tentacle of Brindar when Nofar approached her in the gloomy, sometimes depressing Space Transit Karaoke Bar. It was an honor, of course, that any Slomdorf of Pnysfrt’s level would ever be approached by even a second or third level Gomba let alone a seventh level such as Nofar. Oh, she had seen him many times before in her larval stage and, even when she made the final exo-skeletal transformation into a half-scale Slomdorf (prior to the hibernation stage), Pnyxfrt regarded him with a fondness and longing that was shared by so many of her peers. Regretfully, this opportunity had resulted in an awkward rejection of Nofar and she was certain that he would never approach her again.
One full lunar cycle later and, once again, we find Pnyxfrt in the same karaoke bar. This time, however, she is not partaking of the Nuvivian Vultar Master Brew. Her pay cycle was another pftubtzt away and tonight it would be draft beer only. She awaited her turn for a karaoke performance and deep inside she knew that tonight would be special…to her at least. She was recognized for the depth and emotion that she could lend to any Nofarian Ballad and she could wheeze-yodel with the best of the stars on “Country Countdown,” a popular vibro-transmission show that all the aspiring singers and wheeze-yodelers listened to.
After a few lackluster performances from some rather intoxicated business travelers from the Volcanium Galaxy it was finally Pnyxfrt’s turn. She approached the stage and, in a moment of inattentiveness, she snagged her slime pod on the steps leading up to the stage. Very embarrassing but she maintained a quiet composure in spite of the chirps of ridicule emanating from the vorgon nodes of less-talented Slomdorfs.
As she was standing on the stage she did her best to overcome the Farnonian Butterflies in her stomach. They were cheap bar appetizers and, until her digestive cycle commenced, they were free to flutter about in the dark silence of her internal organs. She glanced out into the dark bar and saw a few familiar faces…but it was dark and the crowd seemed to melt into an undefined mass of orbglbs and tenticillium. Sensing her apprehension, the DJ leaned over and gave her a reassuring wallop in her zygotizm. “Thanks,” she said, “I needed that!”
Once the music started, however, Pnyxfrt’s fears slipped away like a Syzillian Fleeze Worm escaping from the jaws of a giant Pixilian Horse Fly. Her singing seemed to have a life of it’s own! She even managed to hit a High K on the second chorus of the mournful ballad that she had selected for her performance. The crowd was hushed except for the harmonic wing rubbings of a Nuzian Flybog who was making a rare appearance in this crowded venue. It approached the stage and Pnyxfrt nodded for it to continue adding its elusive yet strangely fitting wing harmonies to the mix.
When it was time for Pryxfrt to solo she confidently stepped forward and launched into a wheeze-yodel the likes of which even the most accomplished performer on “Country Countdown” would be hard pressed to match. All of her life Pryxfrt had dreamed of this moment. This special moment when she would finally achieve the long-overdue recognition that she had so richly deserved. The crowd responded enthusiastically. Snap glands were furiously splitting the air and even the Mumbledy Frutzs were seen to shed a tear in the balcony (where they were confined to because of the horrible stench that emanated from their gonad clusters when they got drunk). She left the stage triumphantly and was careful not to snag her slime pod on the steps.
As Pryxfrt reassumed her seat at the bar and ordered another draft she felt a presence behind her. An arm reached around and put a Nuvivian Vultar Master Brew in front of her. A voice said, “No drafts for you Pnyxfrt, for tonight you shall drink only the best!” Immediately she recognized that it was Nofar and she felt his gentle touch as he wrapped the Tentacle of Brindar around her shoulders. Three short, fragrant toots emanating from her analitum indicated her approval. Nofar then placed the gossamer Cocoon of Meldor upon her shivering shoulders. Could it be? Nofar likes her for more than her large, but perky, tricups? “Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Nofar, at last, my love. We are together as one.” “Yes, Pnyxfrt, it has always been you. I see that your cranial horns are fully calcified and your tricups have started their metamorphosis. It is time.”
With that Pryxfrt relaxed into a state of zombosis and folded into the body of Nofar. After the process was completed and Pryxfrt had been fully absorbed, Nofar finished Pnyxfrt’s beer, let go with a loud belch, and staggered home.