Pippalotti Ritz was dancing her ass off. Modularized tribal beats washed away the lack of relevant fieldwork required for her impending career. She should've been meeting with dignitaries and political attachés but instead, she was enjoying the freedom of post-academic life. Flashing lights penetrated her body, made her arm hairs tingle, and illuminated her gray cells. 

The family made her promise to use a chaperone if she went to Jersy Jakz Disco Inferno. She watched Crystal B. Persuasion dance. She was big, blue, and beautiful; two meters of Zorr physical perfection sporting braided hair that flew around with a mind of its own.

"I gotta take a break!" shouted Pippa over the pulsating rhythms.

"Ok! Want me to come with?" Crystal took her hands and danced slower. "Are you alright? You look like you're tripping pretty hard."

Crystal's eyes were a deep blue ocean of understanding.

"I'm alright. I think I'm in a calm phase and need to change atmospheres. You stay here and dance, I'll ping you if I need anything!"

"Alright, baby, I'm here for you." She swirled away in a singular body motion that started at her wrist, moved up to her eyebrows, and darted down to her ringed toes.

Pippalotti made a beeline for the nearest exit.

After a couple of hours, she realized it wasn't as dangerous a place as people led on. Though she had to admit it was hard to keep it together with Jakz Juice pumping through her system. She opened the door out of the dance floor and left the spinning lights behind. 

The adjacent lounge had a completely different vibe. Mellow crooner music in a language you didn't need to understand swooned her over to the bar. A six-armed android bartender turned its attention to her. She hoped it had six arms.

"Water, kind sir."

"Affirmative."

The robot filled a slender glass and handed it to her. It was cool and refreshing with a hint of mint. She sipped and enjoyed the feeling of the liquid sliding down her throat.

"Oh, man, I gotta tell you," said a wasted-looking man easily twice her age, "You should have one of these. It helps."

He opened a crinkled package, took out a thin hand-rolled joint, and offered it to her.

"It's tobacco. Terrible for you, I know, but I discovered it takes the edge off Jakz Juice. I can tell you're new to the experience."

He seemed harmless, so she accepted the little white gift. He fished out another, lit the end on fire, and exhaled a thick plume of smoke that hung in the air over the bar. It smelled pretty bad.

"I'm Greg, Greg Petix. Rhymes with buttocks." He laughed to himself.

"Hi, Greg. What species are you?"

"Oh, I'm human."

"You're pretty pale for a human."

Greg coughed and adjusted his shirt. It had a crude drawing of a goat with two heads on it.

"Well, I'm American, Northern European I guess, ancestrally. Technically, I'm 50,000 Grandor cycles old. You see I'm actually from Earth. Anyway, I'm looking for a woman named X. She has a green Mohawk and..."

"Wait, are you saying you're not from the drifter colonies?"

"No, they found me in cryo-sleep and thawed me out on Grandor Prime. I'm friends with Onzaga Oblast. I recognize you but we've never officially met." He put out his hand.

Pippalotti put out her hand in the same way and held it there. Greg grabbed it, shook it a bit, and let go. She put the cigarette in her mouth and he lit it for her. She took a hit, held it a second, then coughed it out.

"Whoa!" Almost instantly the Jakz Juice blur cut in half, giving her a real moment of mental clarity. "Now I know who you are, you're Grandmama's dog walker."

They both nodded their heads knowingly.

"That's me. So, anyway, have you seen the woman? Well, she's a synthetic woman, but you can't miss her, she doesn't wear clothes, tattoos all over her body, a big green mohawk, and..."

"Greg, it's really nice to officially meet you but I haven't seen her. It's Pippalotti by the way, I hope my adopted grandmother didn't send you here to spy on me?"

"Right, right. She calls you Pippa. Well, she did buy my ticket. Such a great lady, a true friend. OK, talk to you later." He stumbled off in search of the punk rock girl.

Pippa leaned against the bar drinking water. That's when she saw the most intriguing fantastical being she'd ever laid eyes on. His long blond hair and golden flesh tone could've been from Grandor 7, but that didn't account for the white feathery wings. And his eyes were as radiant as fire.

She hoped it wasn't the drugs.

He was sitting in a circular corner booth next to an ancient-looking man with snow-white hair tied up in a messy bun and a spindly Fu Manchu mustache to match. Maybe it was his grandfather? They were both smoking a water pipe.

She was feeling more in control, thanks to Greg's disgusting cigarette. She wanted to meet him and felt it was more than the drugs telling her to do so. She took one more puff, dropped the cig to the floor, ground it out, and exhaled as she started across the room. She caught her reflection in one of the lounge's mirrored columns.

Pippa was tall for a Grandorian, nearly two meters, 25 Grandor cycles old with a new pair of tan leather spacer pants and short fitted flight jacket; her boots were what the humans running the fashion shop called Gogo. She was a light gray-skinned brunette with lush hair. She had some heavy waves going and her perfect golden teeth sparkled pleasantly. Her pupils, however, were dilated worse than Greg's.

She walked up to the booth and was faced with the decision of sliding in next to the old guy or the birdman of utter beauty. She chickened out and spoke first.

"Hi! I'm Pippalotti. You two look pretty chill. Mind if I join you?" She made to sit down next to the angel.

The old man scooched over in his seat. "Please sit here, you don't want to sit next to him—he's pure evil."

In her spaced-out state, she staggered a bit and slid in next to the old man. The three sat evenly spaced around the table. She gazed across into an enchanting face.

She'd once read of an orchid that evolved to look like the face of a monkey and all the monkeys wanted to do was stick their face in the flowers. By those means the orchid was pollinated. She didn't know if she was the flower or the monkey or if she was just a gal and the birdman was a flower or maybe a monkey? Or was it the drugs?

The old man sat happily in the center between them.

"I'm Melock and this is my dear friend the Prince of Darkness, Ruler of the Underworld, Lord of the Abyss, Diabolus Luciferdo." He gestured to the beautiful angel.

"Please allow me to introduce myself..." His voice was deep and authoritative. "...I'm Abaddon St. Baal."

Pippa smiled a shit-eating grin. "Nice to meet you, Abaddon. I assumed he was your grandfather?"

"No, we've only just met. But I've followed the life of Melock the Wise, greatest of all Wizards, for some time."

"So a prince and a wizard?" Maybe it was the drugs. "Where are you two from?"

"I'm human, not exactly like the ones here, a more ancient variant," said the wizard.

The club was predominantly populated by humans, Zorrs, and Jakz. The small meter tall tree frog Jakz loved to party and found humans friendly with glorious new music and fashion to indulge in.

"Were all ancient humans pale like you then? You're the second I've met tonight," said Pippa.

Melock ran his hand the length of his beard and pointed across the room to Greg who was talking to a naked synthetic Zero-G commando. She was covered head to toe in tattoos accentuated by a forest green mohawk.

Pippalotti shook her head. "Yeah, him." 

Every other human in the joint had darker skin; the result of colony life around a blue giant star.

"Oh, I'm much older. He's a 21st-century man I would say, wouldn't you?"

"Indeed." Abaddon nodded in agreement.

"Ok, so Melock is a super ancient mystic of sorts and you're from some underworld, where I'm guessing flying is important?"

"I am eternal. My realm is called Hades."

"I used to think it was near Pluto, but it's not. We're orbiting it right now, it's in Inferno's interior." Melock took a puff off his pipe and gurgled sparkling vapor into the air.

"You're talking about the gas giant. Nothing can survive there, the pressure would kill you instantly. Shit, how fucked up are you guys?" She laughed, Melock laughed, and Abaddon smirked.

"Very," confessed Melock, "but we possess means of travel far beyond your understanding."

"I'm sure you do." She noticed the ears of the #71s in the next booth perk up.

The table of #71EEB8 clones observed the activities of the lounge in silence. The bald silver-skinned middle-aged men were all dressed in matching seafoam green flight suits. Their posture was perfect and they didn't touch the drinks in front of them.

"I'd be glad to take you there," offered Abbadon.

"Wait, is Inferno's Interior a code name for another part of the club?" asked Pippa. 

It was a huge complex with some quarter-million customers in attendance.

"It is, as Melock suggests, at the center of Inferno." Abaddon played the mystery card well.

"Let's all go." Melock took another hit and blew more glitter smoke around. "I'm ready!"

"I don't know? I'm with a chaperone. I think my family wants to keep on eye on me and maybe not have me crushed by liquid hydrogen." She was deep in a stoned conversation now, that was for sure.

"If it would make you more comfortable, we could travel with the #71EEB8s. I'm sure they'd be glad to join us and more than honorable enough to ensure your safety. You're welcome to invite your chaperone."

The #71s in the next booth started whispering. One stood up and walked over to their table.

"As ambassadors of the Deep Space Guild with a vested interest in the fuel production facilities, we'd be extremely interested in the planet's interior and would be glad to offer our protective services and the use of our spacecraft. We honor our agreements with Grandor and would certainly protect one of their citizens with our lives. Please excuse our overhearing your conversation, we have excellent auditory perception." He bowed and returned to his table to await a reply.

Time fell into a drag that bent and slurred reality. Everyone in the place seemed affected. Pippa assumed it was the mind-altering factor of Jakz Juice. She was thoroughly warned to expect visual, auditory, and temporal hallucinations.

Whacked out tree frogs in bell-bottoms hopped about, azure blue-skinned Zorrs with outrageous hairdos mingled, the occasional Grandorian slunk by in a haze, and humans bombed out of their minds did their best to blend in; most of them taking a long weekend from work at the fuel refinery. A hulk of a Gastraddar sat in a booth on the opposite side of the room with his big green wasted arms draped over the shoulders of two off worlders who didn't know what they were getting themselves into.

Everything snapped back again after ten long seconds.

Pippa figured the #71s probably knew she'd been a ward of the Grandor royal family, she'd want to ditch them as soon as possible. And probably the old wizard too.

"Melock, I don't want you to feel like a third wheel?"

A curious girl walked up to the table as if Pippa's words caused her to materialize out of thin air.

"Do you mind if I sit next to Melock?" Her voice was as stern as her appearance.

She was a teenager, twenty at most, another of Melock's ancient humans with creamy skin and short-cropped reddish hair. She was maybe a meter and a half tall and wearing platinum Zero-G combat fatigues. She gave Abaddon a look of disapproval as Pippalotti allowed her to slide into the booth.

"Sister John Murphy."

"Pippalotti Ritz."

"I'm with Melock."

"That's great! I assume he isn't your grandfather either?" Pippa sat on the other side next to Abaddon.

Melock chuckled. "Now, that we're all here and it's a nice even group, four and four." He nodded to the clones. "I say we jump in the fire."

Pippa looked at Abaddon. He was even more gorgeous up close. His pristine feathers looked so soft she wanted to touch them. His hand moved under the table and brushed her knee. Then the angelic birdman smiled at her.

"It'll be a trip to remember."

She really hoped it wasn't the drugs.

"I'll tell my guide I'm heading down to the planet to take the gas giant tour," she said making air quotes around the last three words.

She'd read that the gargantuan gas storms were a spectacle to behold and visually enhanced if you happened to be revved up on Jakz Juice. It was a cheesy thing to do, but if you're going to be a tourist.

As they got up to leave, Greg was startled from the bar across the room.

"Holy shit, hell, look at that fucking demon spawn walking behind Pippi."

He rubbed his eyes and crossed himself; seeing a nine-foot-tall red-skinned devil with horns, hooves, and a pointed tail was unusual even when doing drugs in outer space. He turned to the naked woman with a mohawk for help. The demonic Motörhead tattoo on her arm didn't help his state of mind.

"Her name's Pippa, Pipp-a-lotti. And he looks more like a synthetic bird-bot to me. She just checked in with her chaperone and said the clones are taking her on a gas giant tour. She'll be fine. We, on the other hand, are clearly peaking. Let's order some more drinks and worry about Pippa in the morning."

Cartoon Pippalotti drawing by artist and author SarcasticSpaceBeing