Time to go

"I have to go back, Peejay."

I didn't think those words coming out of Moopa's mouth would ever come. And I certainly never thought they would sadden me so much.

"Why?" I asked.

"I miss my home."

I told him to think about it. "Won't it take about 25 years to go back?"

"Well," he said, "25 Earth years... It's not that bad."

Chemical Analysis

"I finished my chemical analysis of this plant that you call 'marijuana'," Moopa said, waking me up from a deep sleep. "And my conclusion is as follows: it's AWESOME! HAHAHAHA!"

Moopa left the bedroom, evil-laughing his way out to the kitchen. I was still sleepy, confused, lost. What day was this? What time? Why did Moopa wake me up so early? I... just... ugh.

Today is Thursday, day eight of the student strike. A heavy snow storm struck Montreal. I'm stranded at home. I am growing bored out of not working.

I can't imagine winning millions playing the lottery. I can't imagine not having to work to subsist. Don't get me wrong: we all want money and comfort in life, but it is first and foremost the feeling of accomplishment that gets me going.

When good fortune strikes, I want to feel like I deserve it. Otherwise it can't be very satisfying, can it?

I got up. Moopa had brewed coffee. I poured myself a cup. My friendly alien was staring out the window puffing his bong. "Moopa, you've got to be careful with this. Weed is great, sure, but it's a drug. Some people get so addicted to it that they can't function anymore."

Moopa turned to me. "You're right Peejay! I should just float here and spend hours wondering... mhh... I don't know... THE MEANING OF LIFE! WOUHAHA!"

Moopa had still so much to learn about humans, but needless to say he had picked up sarcasm pretty quick.

"Is that why you stopped smoking weed, Peejay?" Moopa asked. "You were addicted?"

Ignoring him, I took a tiny sip of my coffee, savouring each and every molecule, every hadron and every lepton. It was a perfect mix of coffee, sugar and soy milk. "No," I answered. "That was not the reason."

"Why did you quit, then?"

"The buzz weed creates, this buzz that you love so much... wasn't there anymore. It was like my body assimilated it. So I quit."

Moopa stared at me, clearly confused.

"Just be careful, Moopa."

Students on Strike: Action-Reaction

Moopa had a surprised look on his face when he saw me this morning.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work, Peejay?"

"My students are on strike," I told him.

"On strike?" Two of his limbs were scratching his forehead. Two others were making coffee. The last two were filling up his Buurodiz bong. "Why?"

"Oh it's a long story, Moopa." Despite the strike, I have so much work to do. Some people don't realize that this isn't a vacation for teachers; it's limbo. We have to stay ready at all times. The student strike could end any day.

"Students on strike..." he said, turning on my coffee machine. "What a bizarre concept."

"Well it's Newton's third law, right? Action-reaction. The government wants to hike up tuition fees, so students bodies react by shutting down colleges."

Moopa froze. His eyes widened. He even stopped loading his bong. "WHAT?" he yelled. "You humans have to PAY to go to school?"

"Only university and some colleges, Moopa. High school is free."

I rarely saw Moopa angry. But there he was, raising his voice at nobody in particular.

"You have to PAY to go to school??! Are humans fucking retarded or what?"

I grabbed a cup and some soy milk. I needed coffee too.

"You have to PAY to go to school??!"

Moopa had a point.

Life Needs Diseases

The colonies of uninvited microbes have been defeated by my immune system, as they always are. The microbes did carry a successful insurgency, but they didn't have home field advantage. In the long run, as long as the body lives, the immune system rules.

"Hey Moopa," I asked my friendly alien, "what did you say about your species not having to deal with microbes on your planet?"

Moopa was lighting up a bong. Again. As he exhaled, he began laughing uncontrollably.

"Are you sure you're alright, Moopa?"

The sunset was once again visible from my front window. The seasons were changing, once more. Winter sure wasn't what it used to be. It feels like there has been more rain than snow in Montreal this winter.

"You see, Peejay," said Moopa, "diseases are bad for an individual, but they are great for a species. It's only by getting sick that advanced biological organisms -such as you and me- can evolve and become stronger. Life needs diseases."

I walked towards the living room and sat in front of Moopa, who was taking another hit. Within seconds, a beautiful white and blue smog hung in the air.

"So," I asked, "how did you deal with diseases on Buurodiz?"

Moopa looked at me with both of his pitch dark eyes, and said: "You're not gonna like it."

"Try me."

Moopa paused. "Humans would never do that... I don't think, anyway."

"Do what?"

"Well," he said hesitantly, "We take unwanted unborns, disable their cognitive abilities before they can develop any, and we used their body as chemical labs."

I stared at Moopa, not sure what to say. "What, you mean like clones?"

"Something like that Peejay, but they are and have always been unconscious... It's similar to what you call 'stem cells' around here."

I stopped smoking weed a few years ago, for several different reasons. But suddenly, I felt an urge to indulge.

The flask containing pure energy was sitting on the coffee table between us. Moopa still hadn't explain how that worked, but the night was young.

"Pass me that bong, Moopa."