Characters: The Middleman, Wendy Watson, aliens
Word Count: 456
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to these characters, the show or the comic and I am not being paid for this.
Distribution: Posted on the MM/WW community on LJ, here, and on AO3. Please do not post elsewhere.
Summary: No way aliens are going to make them do it this time.
Author's Note: This is in no way intended to ridicule ANY of the 'aliens made them do it' stories. Heck, I may take a crack at one myself one day. I find it perfectly logical that aliens would treat us like zoo critters or lab rats. But this is what my twisted mind comes up with at 1 a.m. after I've been writing drama for a while.
SEX ON THE BEACH
A Previously Unseen But Palatial Alien Friendly Conference Room
Time: Half past the yardarm somewhere in the world
"That does it." Wendy Watson leaped to her feet and slammed her fist on the conference table. The three slight, pale creatures on the other side cowered away from her, trying to hide behind their long, curly hair. "I am not having sex with him because you people or any other aliens want to see how humans get it on. Been there. Done that. Multiple times. Not. Doing. It. Again. Got it?"
"Dubbie?" The Middleman tugged at her arm. She jerked away and waved a hand at him for silence.
"Seriously, what is it with you aliens? Is every single sentient species too cheap to pay for Skin-i-Max? And you guys always claim to be so much smarter and technologically superior to humans. If that's so, how is it that a couple of techno-know-nothings like me and Noser can figure out how to swipe free cable, but you people can't find free porn on the Internet?"
"I'm serious, Boss! Someone's got to draw a line here. I'm really sick of this sexist garbage." She pointed a finger at the trembling trio. "You guys want to destroy something if we don't have sex for you? Fine! Go on! Take New Jersey. Not like you guys haven't been trying for years anyway. You think we haven't already figured out the infiltration going on there? Huh? We know what 'it's a Joisey thing' really means."
"DUBBIE!" The Middleman stood up and tugged the kinked cord next to her ear, dislocating the translator bug. "Change your battery. They want us to have sax in their rooms. As in, music. Available. On CD."
She glanced from the terrified aliens to him. "...sax?"
"Of course." He frowned. "You really do need to do your homework. The Gorlackians are very fond of saxophone music. Kenny G. is one of their most celebrated native sons. Didn't you know that?"
"Eeeeoooowww." She plopped down in her chair and smiled weakly at the silent little aliens. "Awwwk-warrrd."
The Middleman smiled broadly at the aliens, spread his arms wide, and addressed them with glottal grunts and clicks. They beamed and giggled. He sat back down and shook his head.
"Good thing you didn't pull that little stunt with the Teshnarians," he told her. "They're a lot less mellow about that kind of thing."
She sighed. "You know, this job is giving me such a different view of the music industry."
He lowered his voice. "By the way, I thought you said you liked the time we..."
"Not going there."
"And in fact, the other day, you said you wanted to roleplay..."