“Go on, touch it.” Rover thrust a mechanical finger at his left cheek.
“I believe you.” Flyspur replied as he stepped around the long scaly tail of a sunbather. The peach-colored beach was bustling with tourists of every shape and size as the two friends strolled along the water’s edge, feeling the sun on their backs and the sand between their toes. A family of Crustaliations scuttled around them, the children snapping their claws at the pair as they headed into the warm water. A flock of Turnblis soared in the colorful sky, enjoying the slight updraft and playing with the local ooflits. Unlike their rural home island of Loofa, the beaches of the spaceport city of Filniss were always abuzz with aliens.
“No, no. You got to feel it.” Rover insisted, this time shoving both forefingers at his chin.
“Um...no. I really don’t.”
The human had been trying to get Flyspur to feel his face for about ten minutes. It was weird. Weird, however, was Rover’s specialty.
“Aw, come on!” Without further warning Rover grabbed Flyspur’s blue upper hand and pressed it to the side of his face.
Flyspur’s first instinct was to jerk back in annoyance but he didn’t. His purple eyes blinked curiously at what he felt. Rover’s usually smooth human face was...rough. At least along his jaw, and near his oversized ears. He squinted and looked closer as Rover grew a smug smile and ducked down a little so so his shorter friend could get a better look. “You’re right. I can feel it. I can see it too.” It wasn’t much. It really wasn’t. Just a faint shadow beginning to creep down from his temples. He frowned a little. “Is that normal for humans? I mean just to start growing like that?” Jssfloon jaw and chin hair began growing even before they were born.
“Why, of course!” Rover said, although, Flyspur thought he wasn’t as certain as he let on. “I mean, some folks are hairier than others, mind you, but a fellah’s gotta grow whiskers sometime. Except womenfolk.” A puzzled frown came across his face and he pushed the ever-present, oversized cowboy hat back and scratched his head. “I wonder if they just don’t grow hair on their face or…” He looked down at his friend. “...or do they shave it? I never seen seen a lady with a beard.” Rover had never seen a real human female, of course. At least not that he could remember. He was speaking of the films contained on the tiny microchip that hung around his neck. It contained the entirety of his knowledge about his own species; a library of music and multimedia about humans and their everyday lives, which seemed to consist mostly of riding horses, wearing hats, and throwing ropes at horned animals
“Why, I betcha that in just a spell I’ll be as furry as you.”
This is the first part of this story:
I just had to draw this scene. Rover is so ridiculously excited.
Rover and Flyspur belong to me.