As far as
the amoeba dating scene in Earth’s first pool of sludge water went, the
pickings were slim. Ug, an amoeba of good character and excellent viscosity,
liked to think of himself as an all around good guy. He took lots of girls out,
opened doors, you know, the wooing gestures. He even took his friend’s ugly
sister to her junior prom when she couldn’t find a date (although who would
blame a guy for not wanting to slow dance with a deadly mutating virus?) Yes. Ug was done with dating. No one seemed
to like him for his personality, anyways. They only saw him for his body. Ug
made himself unavailable, claiming that he took up a cave painting class at the
senior center on weekends and didn’t have time to date.
It was a
lovely Saturday night when everything changed. In order to secure his alibi, Ug
went to the senior center to confirm the class wasn’t just another spoof flyer
outside the YMCA. Ug sludged into the room and found himself surrounded by
decrepit amoebas covered in liver spots, hacking away and speaking far too
loudly to possess good hearing. Ug was about to leave when he heard a musical
voice call from behind him.
“Excuse
me,” she said. He turned and saw the most beautiful amoeba he had ever laid eye
on. She was pink with green specks. He felt his membrane weaken as she
approached him. “Are you here for the painting class? I don’t know what room
its in.”
“Y-yes,”
stammered Ug, sludging up a bit straighter. “Yes I am.”
They sat at
easels, side by side, and listened to the “professor,” an old retrovirus who
had supposedly been around since before the puddle even existed.
“It was
just a few drops, can you imagine? The sludge of LIFE,” he wheezed with gusto.
Ug watched as the fair creature next to him absorbed herself in the professor’s
words, his anecdotes, his lessons on perspective and brush strokes.
She caught
him looking and he blushed from orange to red, his specks turning blue. She
smiled and leaned over.
“What’s
your name?” she whispered. Although she could’ve shouted and Ug would’ve been
the only one in the room to hear.
“Ug,” he
said a bit louder. “And yours?”
“Yuk,” she
said with a coy smile.
When the
class got out, Yuk and Ug lingered in the lobby and sipped phosphorous lattes
from the machine. They chatted about their interest in cave painting, what they
were learning in school, what they did in their free time.
“I can’t
believe you live around the rock from me!” said Yuk, “I pass by on my way to
school every day.”
“Third
stalactite on the left,” said Ug with a grin. “We just did her up with a new
coat of slime.”
“I’ll be
sure to notice next time I pass by.”
“You know,
Yuk,” began Ug. “You should come over and hang out. We can do homework or
something…”
Yuk paused
and for a moment Ug was struck with absolute panic and consuming mortification.
But then a smile spread slowly across Yuk’s acidic, bubbling lips.
“That
sounds like fun.”
Ug let out
a giddy “whoop!” and proceeded to sludge her home.
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