[The Galaxy Express is excited to present a series of posts by a Very Special Guest. Her name is Maybelle and she's here all the way from sweet home Alabama to give us her take on archetypes in science fiction romance. This is the second installment of a ten part series. Maybelle's posts will go live Saturday 9 am EST). Part I]
So what are they like?
Inquiring minds want to know. Inquiring dirty minds.
First off, you'll notice in the SFR stories Heather’s always going on about, the alien dudes who want Earth women can make whoopie and babies with us, no problems. Earth’s a lost colony or genetic bibble babble Deena A something. I usually skip that part in books—and trust me, when you hear it for yourself out of a Martian’s integration counselor’s Venus pie hole, it don’t get no better.
Let me just add before we get to the dirty part that some Martians are elitist snobs, and there is such a thing as stupid questions on Mars. Questions like, “When do we get to the dirty part?” Now with me and you, that ain’t a stupid question! And the answer is... NOW.
Yes, my friends, Martian males got big schlongs. Diane Dooley figured this was true too, and I don’t think she got herself kidnapped to do it.
But you can never tell with people named Diane. She might be related to that Deena A gal who I guess is a fertilimity doctor. Then Kimber Vale in Diane’s comments pointed out Vienna sausages ain’t high on editorial “want” lists, so yeah. Martian wiener size is the same as regular romance novels—big—and Vienna sausages are nasty.
Is there an archetype for Mars or romance heroes where he’s got a big schlong? Answer: they all do. Next question.
Tentacles? Some do. Most don’t. Next question.
Seriously, I already answered about the tentacles. Wait, how many wieners? And where?? Not in THIS galaxy, sister. I think you want the Horse Head Nebula. But it’s harder to get abducted by tentaculars. They think we don’t have enough arms.
Look, I’m going to quit answering questions about wieners now. I’m here to tell you about Martian guy archetypes. For starters, no galaxy is any galaxy without...
TYPE 1m: The King of the Galaxy (aka the Chief): Every galaxy needs an empire. Or a federation or a—you get my drift. In SFRs and during a real abduction there’s gotta be a King.
King-dude may not be on the women snatching expedition, but you'll meet him sooner or later if you get napped. He's got to be the boss of everybody, he knows everything, and he ain’t never wrong. He thinks this one Earth girl with a bad attitude is his destined mate, fated by the Traxian Seers, so the rest of the abductees just gotta hope the gal gets caught kissing someone else or runs off so they can get their shot.
The King’s got plenty of trillium coins and a fancy spaceship, plus if you make it alive to the royal wedding, you get to be Queen of the Galaxy. Also, this guy might not come home much on them long Alpha Centauri nights, but it's because he's working late writing planetary laws, not working on his stellar secretary.
Even when his secretary is a really hot Earthling named Bellenmay who sneaks away from her assigned spaceman and offers to show the King of the Galaxy how to "take dictation".
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