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Chapter 7:
The Great Tea Schism

“As you have probably noticed,” began the old fuzzy alien, “we bear striking resemblance to those that attacked you earlier today. That is because we are, technically, one and the same.”
Agent Sorrow tensed and reached for her gun, but Hyjiff Marr held up one of his limbs.
“We are the real Root Dwelling Shaalks. Those beasts that took over our village are our cousins, if you trace back our lineage far enough.”
“I thought they ate you,” interrupted Sorrow, confused.
“No, no, no. Even they are not capable of cannibalism. They are indeed quite evil, but they merely devoured our Puhtook herds.”
Agent Sorrow responded with a questioning glance, wondering whether or not that statement should make sense.
“Puhtooks,” explained Hyjiff Marr, “are slow moving, gentle sloth creatures that provide us with milk. It tastes just brilliant in tea. Our ancestors actually developed ways of aging the milk so that it could provide the perfect accent to any flavor or style of tea. Because you see, in the beginning, the milk was quite wonderful, but it just wasn’t the perfect fit for everything. The spicier teas, brewed primarily using only the finest herbs from the very heart of the Kiipen Forest far to the south, were the instigator of the exploration into milk alteration.’
‘These blends had such a unique and tantalizing flavor that they became an instant smash among all walks of life, especially traders. However the essence of these particular brews was inexplicably dimmed with the addition of puhtook milk. The shepherds decide that action simply had to be taken to avoid complete cultural upheaval. Thus came forth the Tegyy Process, a flawless method for aging milk invented by Warfojj Tegyy, a backwoods shepherd with near no formal education. Quite amazing, really, that such genius can be brought about all from the comforting benevolence of tea.”
Agent Sorrow wasn’t quite sure her simple confused expression was enough to warrant such a lengthy speech.
“Now, please do let me continue on with my tale without any interruption,” said Marr, slightly irritated. “In the beginning, God created Heaven and Tea. He was quite proud of himself after that, so he spent a long while lounging in heaven drinking as many types of herbal infusions as he could imagine. He was having the most wonderful time as well, but eventually there came the inevitable call of nature. He looked at the forever unmatched splendor of Heaven his creation ad decided that he could not bring himself to sully its exquisite beauty. ‘I simply must find somewhere else to relieve myself,’ he said in all of his infinite wisdom. So he created the World upon which we live, and he immediately satisfied his urge. In doing so, he created the lakes, rivers, and seas of the World.”
Agent Sorrow decided to disrupt this enlightening sermon with a well timed, “Eww.”
Undeterred, Hyjiff Marr pressed on like a determined preacher presented with an audience full of open eared heathens, non believers, and assorted Hell-bound riff raff.
“At first, the World was merely a rock with the occasional stream gracing its unloving crust. God was content to let it be, using it every now and then when the Tea he loved so much caught up to him. After a very long while the World began to flood. The vast waters soon ran out of ravines and crevices to fill and began to grow stagnant. They baked in the light of Heaven and began to give off an unpleasant and unbearably pungent stench. Needless to say, God would have none of it. He crafted a race of immortal beings, each possessing the power of divine light, to blame the smell on.
This race, called the Life Givers, didn’t like the smell very much either and decided to do something about it. They cooked up a plan to create a being that would be happy to frolic in the massive oceans, thus keeping them churned up and moving at all times. Then they looked around and had no idea what to make these beings out of, given they were on a lifeless, flooded hunk of rock. So they waited till one of their own fell asleep, then they used sharp rocks to shear their golden fur, which they wove into a rope. Using this, they bound the sleeping Life Giver and dumped him in the sea. Unable to drown, the Life Giver adapted to underwater life and grew gills and flippers, and he grew slippery scales to slip from his bounds. All this went on while the rest of his brethren were on the shore congratulating each other on creating the first fish. With the problem of the water solved, they created everything else in the world (at the expense of some of their friends who were stupid enough to fall asleep first) except tea leaves. God did that one for them, considering he was the expert on such matters.”
“Wow, that was completely irrelevant,” commented Sorrow, who had stopped listening somewhere in the middle. “How does this affect me?”
“You ask the right questions, my child,” said Marr softly.
“I’m not your child,” snapped Sorrow. “If I was that would that would be a biological atrocity, not to mention the cover story for National Enquirer. Now are you going to tell me why you’re here or should I just leave now?”
“Testy, testy,” cooed Hyjiff, waggling one of his many fingers. “It all began with something we call ‘The Great Tea Schism’. There were two apprentice tea brewers who were being taught by the Earll of Graay, the most respected Shaalk in the land. There names were Lipp and Ness, and they had drastically different philosophy about how tea should be made. Lipp thought it should be made naturally with wild tea leaves left to grow in their natural habitats. Ness had different ideas. He envisioned a whole new Ddesmoliik, one of vast farms where tea leaves were engineered to produce better and faster and from there sent to factories to be tampered with and improved through the addition of sugar and other unhealthy substances. Soon their feud went public and everyone took sides. Eventually the whole culture was split right down the middle, and Ness’s supporters went to the mountains to establish a civilization of their own. But could we let them do that? Of course not! We took up our weapons and crushed them without mercy! They learned to fear the might of Lipp and his armies of loyal Shaalks who would give their lives to preserve the purity of tea.
However, they were never truly eradicated. While we lived out our happy lives, enjoying the comforts of the Five Z’s, they faced unspeakable horrors in their cold mountain fortresses. They resorted to eating the flesh of other living creatures, and they grew huge and feral. Their minds devolved until all they think about was violence, death, destruction, and revenge upon those who had scorned them so long ago. Trying to alter the already perfect divinity of tea turned them into heartless monsters.”
“You really like tea don’t you?” she asked. As the words left her lips she was bowled over by an overwhelming and unexpected cannonball of déjà vu. As she regained her bearings she realized the alarming feeling in her brain was caused by the fact that she had asked the exact same question in an eerily similar discussion to an eerily similar alien who was, eerily, called Hyjiff Marr. She realized she probably would be asking that question more in the future and probably in a disturbingly similar discussion at that. And if things got significantly weirder, she might once again be taking to another alien named Hyjiff Marr.
The alien leaned forward and paused, a mischievous smile on his furry mug. “What kind of stupid question is that?” he said loudly, gesturing dramatically with his four hands like a really bad actor in a low budget children’s production.
All of the aliens behind him suddenly erupted into unchecked guffaws of hysterical laughter, giggles rocketing up into the trees like ash from Mt. Vesuvius.
Hyjiff Marr turned proudly to his people, raised of all his arms, his face overflowing with pride, and cried, “I did a funny!” With that proclamation he began doing a bizarre little jig on the spot. Soon Hyjiff Marr’s personal celebration had ended, but the rest of the Shaalks were still just a furry brown rumbling mass of insane cackling.
“Oh no,” gasped the chief. “My perfectly executed funny has induced a tickle war of epic proportions!”
“What?” asked Agent Sorrow incredulously. Immediately after she asked she noticed the that all the aliens actually were actually tickling one another with uncanny enthusiasm and slightly disturbing fury.
Hyjiff Marr took a moment to answer. In that moment he glanced from his laughing brethren to the human sourpuss Agent Sorrow. Then he leaned forward, paused, did the same stupid hand gesture, and yelled, “What kind of stupid question is that?!” He then leapt right into the mass of tickling beasts shouting his head off.
Sorrow promptly stood up and walked away.
-------------------------------------

The evil Shaalks sat in a circle in the middle of the village, messily munching bloody bits and pieces of poor, dismembered Puhtooks. They were arguing noisily in their own demented language (which sounded like basset hound choking on Mary Tyler Moore while being tazed). All in all it seemed like a demented group therapy session.
“<Vengeance is close at hand my brethren!>”
“<Indeed it is!>”
“<Three cheers for The Children of Ness!>”
“<Hip hip->”
“<Shut up!>” shouted the leader, whose name is unpronounceable in any language worth learning. “<Yes, it is true our plans have been working perfectly. But the fight is not over yet. The next step is to track down the simpering Lipp lovers and kill them. Then we shall take the leader of the shuttle hostage and fly his thing back to Ddesmolikk. From there we will arouse our long slumbering kin and take over once and for all! Then we will build the land Ness dreamed of and fulfill our destinies! Mwahahhahahahahahahahfufufufufufuheheheheheeehehehehehehehehohohohohohhahahheheheshufufufufufuffhahahaahahahahahahahahhuhuhuhhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhhhahahuahauhauhahauhahahhauahuahuhuhhahaha-”
*SMACK*
“<Ow, why did you hit me?>”
“<You were laughing too much and it was freaking me out.>”
“<Me too!>”
“<Me three!>
“<Shut up!>”
An awkward silence filled the clearing. One of the Shaalks smashed a cricket that was chirping too loud.
If they had not been talking so loudly Sorrow would have never noticed them until she stepped into their midst and got disemboweled, which, needless to say, would have been bad news for her. The Agent heard the voracious aliens’ cries and turned on her stiletto heels. She would have made a clean getaway had not an inconveniently placed twig snapped. The Shaalks’ heads swung towards her position, like so many grotesque puppets. Their wings to began to beat rhythmically, churning the air in mechanical thrusts. The sea of glaring eyes started to burn like a hot coals, and the air was filled with the sound of claws unsheathing. Sorrow’s heart was beating in her ears; everything froze for a couple of dreadful moments, and then they sprung.
They flew at her, a cloud of furious hornets, rancid saliva dripping from hungry mouths full of horrifying fangs. Sorrow was petrified, she tried to run, but she was rooted where she stood.
*This is it,* she thought. *Done in by a twig.*
Before this last thought could become true, the ground beneath her gave way and she tumbled down in a flurry of wet soil, pebbles, and roots. She hit solid dirt with a thump, and without miss a beat she was dragged away by many tiny, rough hands, all clawing and grabbing at her arms and legs. Soon the agent was being carried quite efficiently through what must have been quite amaze of underground tunnels. The air was musty and dank, and she could hear chattering voices on all sides.
“Usskabili!” said one.
“Usskabili! Usskabili! Usskabili!” repeated several others.
“Hujiwaaba!” commanded the first. “Jitty, jetty! Yix futolyye pobillo Hyjiff Marr!”
Sorrow sat up in surprise after hearing a name she recognized and her head went straight into a cluster of bulbous, multicolored, glowing fungi. The spores leapt off from the alien mushrooms like desperate sailors leaping from a sinking ship and they clung onto Sorrow’s bodice, lighting her up like a Christmas tree, albeit a one that was being taking captive by a group of creatures from another planet.
The group started to climb up hill, and soon they were in the open air, which was a quite welcome relief after the acrid smog of the tunnel. The agent’s captors plopped her unceremoniously on the grass and shook themselves vigorously like dogs after a walk in the rain. Our heroine sat up painfully, rubbing her sore back, after getting all the colorful dust off of her face, she finally opened her eyes. And she wasn’t entirely surprised to find herself face to face with that amiable old coot, Hyjiff Marr.
“So how’d your tickle war go?” she asked, still trying to be rid of the clingy fungus spores.
“Quite well. It will go down in the history books as one of the greatest of all time. That is, if we can get the books back from those murderous beasts.”
“And how exactly do we plan and doing this?”
“Just wait and see, earthling.”

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“<How could we lose her again!?>” shouted one of the murderous beasts.
“<She looked so tasty too,>” sighed another.
“<It was all you fault, you didn’t move fast enough!>” thundered the first.
“<Hush, you fools,>” the leader commanded. “<We mustn’t get distracted from our true goal, destroying Hyjiff Marr!>”
“Who are you going to destroy?” asked a smug but squeaky voice. Hyjiff stood proudly atop a small rise on the eastern edge of the village. He waited patiently as the marauders scrabbled to their feet, tripping over each other in their haste. “Kulakeae!” the aging Shaalk yelled, and the clearing was engulfed in a tidal wave of tiny furry bodies.
The evil ones were drowned in the oncoming rip tide, not even having time to unsheathe their claws. It was like watching ants devour a beetle twenty times their size. Meanwhile, Sorrow sprinted across the spongy grass. She had her orders, and she wasn’t about to let the brave little aliens down. Out of nowhere she tackled from behind. Struggling to get a view of her assailant, the rasping voice told her who it was immediately.
“Got you this time. Now I can finally have dinner. Those were some nasty darts you put in me, missy, but they didn’t last very long. Just like you,” He laughed maniacally, giving Sorrow a chance to thrust back an elbow into his gut.
Twisting over, she thrust him to the ground. She wasted no time after that. She placed her foot on his chest and pushed, slowly squeezing the air out of his lungs like an anaconda surrounding its prey. There was more fight in the predator than she expected, though. He flung her off with all four arms and stood up, gasping like a fish out of water. Letting out a blood curdling screech, he charged at her like a demented rhino, claws flashing in the dim light. Sorrow adeptly side stepped him, stretched her arm around his furry neck and snapped it with a turn of her shoulder.
Her face showed no remorse as the body fell limply to the forest floor. She rushed on toward her goal, a root hut at one end of the glade.
There was no time to waste; her friends were losing ground. The evil shaalks had been startled at first, but now they were fighting back with the ferocity of a cornered jungle tiger. Cries of anguish sliced through the brisk air like knives, but Sorrow kept her head down. This was no time for rampant emotion and she knew it. Finally reaching the small door carved in the tree root, she flung it open.
Inside, illuminated by an eerie glowing firelight, were hundreds, no, thousands of blades, staffs, and weapons hanging from every surface. Sorrow set to work unhinging armaments from the walls two at a time and throwing them out of the door. Soon a sizable piled had been established. Sorrow leapt back out into the open air and prepared herself to give the signal. She was supposed to yell something stupid like ‘pouliga’ or ‘pouliza’. She couldn’t remember which. So she decided on a middle ground.
“Come and get em’!” she bellowed as loud as she possibly could.
She wasn’t even sure if most of the shaalks spoke English, but they still got the message.
The surviving aliens abandoned their fighting and flew at top speed toward the weaponry. They buzzed around the stack like bees on a honey comb and soon they were all adequately equipped. Renewing their vigor with a rallying cry, they charged the bewildered enemies.
Agent Sorrow looked around for something she could use, but every last spear, knife, and mace was gone. She had lost her own gun some time ago. Rushing back into the armory, she spotted a weapon she had missed. It was a small, crossbow like mechanism with a sack of pellet ammunition next to it. The reason it caught her eye was because it was beneath a sign that said in big red letters, ‘Only for Emergencies’. It was actually written in several languages.
Loading the bow she walked calmly onto the battlefield where a complete brawl was raging. She pointed the snout of the extraterrestrial armament at a enemy shaalk hovering in mid air and pulled what she assumed was the trigger. There were several clicks and then the silver ball was launched at high speed through the air. It arced perfectly and struck the beast square in its hairy chest. Fire lit up the forest. The victim screeched and plummeted to the ground, rolling around like a maniac in an effort to put out the flames that clung to his long fur.
“Wow,” murmured Agent Sorrow, “that’s some heavy firepower.”
She loaded and fired.
Hyjiff Marr and his villagers were taken aback by the sudden happenings. Then recognition dawned on them and they began to cheer.
She loaded and fired.
Hyjiff cheered harder and the four armed barbarians growled menacingly, angry at how heavily the odds were stacked against them.
She loaded and fired.
“<What are you waiting for?>” garbled the head villain. “<Rip her to shreds!>”
She aimed the devastating contraption at the speaker, loaded, and fired.
The beast erupted into a blazing inferno and fell thrashing to the ground. The rest quickly took to the skies and fleeing for their lives. Cries of ‘<retreat!>’ filled the air, along with the stench of burnt hair. The victorious warriors stood solemnly beside the charred corpses of their unfortunate opponents.
Agent Sorrow let out a long sigh as she let the bow drop limply to her side. She took a look at the battleground and the flames that smoldered slowly like patches of disease upon the crimson grass.
Grass wasn’t crimson.
She slowly became aware of the carnage that was spread out before her, a sickening panorama of death and pain. The clearing had been made a portrait of war; bodies were strewn about like so many rag dolls. The alien’s once beautiful mahogany fur clumped up in scarlet bunches where they had been butchered in the melee. She saw Hyjiff Marr at the opposite end of the village. He was on his diminutive knees and tears were streaming down his once happy face, turning black with the ash and dirt that was caked on his coat. Like rivers polluted by the terror and barbarism of battle they flowed onto the ground. Half the forest was stained with blood and the rest was being gradually devoured by the fire she had left in her wake.
That was right. Her wake. She had done this; she was the one who had conducted this horrific symphony, wielding the weapon like a maestro’s baton. She had brought this pain upon herself, the pain she had been spending her whole life trying to escape, the pain that hung over her, a cloud of despair, the pain that always caught up with her no matter how fast or far she ran. It dawned on her. She was just like a foolish child, racing their own shadow on a hot summer day. She had done that once, long ago, but the shadow always hung on, snapping at her heels as she tried in vain to get away. That’s all she was. She was a child racing her shadow then, and now she was still just a child, trying to outrun the dark shadow of her own nature.
This thought was the one that stuck in her head as she keeled over and into the dark embrace of unconsciousness.

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