Fading Star

by David Gibbs / DavidGibbs6

Gronk stared blankly. A small girl in a flowing pastel green shirt stood before him and he was not quite sure what he was supposed to do. Did she just ramble off and order... or was it some anecdotes about some topic so un-relatable that it was gibberish to Gronk? Or was he distracted by the Tiivien that had just entered the eatery.

The youngling's guardian was looking annoyed and as if about to launch into a tirade. Gronks co-worker, Lance gave him a side glance as if to say not another one. Already this week Gronk had had two customer complaints to his name.

Before it could develop into something more, everyone's attention was drawn by the Tiivien's aura. It was like a celebrity had just entered the diner.

Their loose silky attire and muted colors had become very popular in human culture. It could be seen everywhere and was mimicked shamelessly.

Gronk remembered that feeling. The side glances, the feelings of fame as all the attention was on you. The kids who shamelessly idolized you and the jealousy of others who wished they were you.

Now those same feelings were reversed.

A few centuries ago his species, the Klharn, were the first to settle this alien planet known as earth.

He had been in the third settlement group and although his group wasn't the first, the status still commanded some fanfare. They were still respected and invited everywhere. It was an honor just to be seen with one of his kind back in the day.

Nine generations of humans had lived and died since then. Each one, less in awe, less star struck and less interested. When they first came, the humans had revered the Klharns. Even a low ranking member like himself dined with the highest in human society.

"Ah-hem.."

The vocalization brought Gronk back to the present.

"Sorry." Gronk offered. "Could you please repeat your order?"

Immediately it was apparent that the line had been waiting for Gronk and even the Tiivien distraction couldn't cover his ineptitude.

The little girl placed her order with a small shy

voice as Gronk listened carefully. His large form had once intimidated adults as much as the children. Often they would stammer or ramble nervously. Some froze up and would not speak at all. Not at all like the current time, when disrespectful humans would talk to him without even using eye contact.

Quickly he logged the order and started filling cups with drink.

How had he come to this?

Working so pitifully.

Sure he wasn't the best example of his species, but still.

He wasn't alone in taking a menial job. Many Klharns did. These days things were tough for everyone, humans and Klharn alike, took what they could get. He should be grateful, but he couldn't help but feel some discontent at his station.

"I need a break." Said Gronk, signaling to the manager in the back who came over straight away.

"We are coming into rush hour and you are already banked up." The manager hissed at him. "You just want someone to catch you up. You can wait. "

Gronk sighed. It was true that he was struggling. The whole situation felt like a metaphor for his life. He was feeling burnt out and needing a break or a change. One he couldn't get, not without first getting out from under the mountain he was under. There were robots out there with better work life balance, he was sure.

While he was thinking this, he fucked up the next order, had to apologise and start over. It didn't go unnoticed by the manager, who scowled silently in his direction.

Ten minutes later, after a stressful time of focusing hard on work, Gronk felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he found himself face to face with the manager.

"Go on break." He said. Not even looking at Gronk.

Just when he was starting to feel like he was getting on top of it, now he was getting a break? Following the managers gaze, gronk spied the Tiivien, almost at the front of the line.

All at once it hit him. The exhaustion gave way to anger. The manager just wanted to be the one to serve the Tiivien. The man was barely even registering that Gronk wasn't moving aside such that his attention was drawn. Somewhere to the left, Lance, asked if Gronk was okay, clearly sensing something not right in his co-worker's stance.

The hum of the restaurant dimmed and a sudden look of horror hit the manager, almost the same time as the excrement did.

A cry went up around the patronage, as a smell filled the air. Gronk's gills flared, before sagging loose in a most rare, almost unseen display. It looked as if someone had slit his throat, and a spikey wave of flesh had spewed forth, carrying a foul smell with it.

The whole exchange took only a moment. Still not one person in the medium sized eatery missed it. Every head turned and many focused recording devices upon Gronk's embarrassing display.

In his anger, Gronk had triggered an evolutionary flight or fight response, releasing stored waste in an explosive blast.

Lance was the first to speak.

"Are you okay?" He asked again in the smallest voice.

Gronk was not okay at all. He wished everyone would stop looking at him. He quivered as he walked, slowly, without replying, out of the serving area and away through the back.

Embarrassed as he was, Gronk knew humans were fickle, and in time, they would forget even this.