The Moonstaliens: Mission Milk! - Chapter 3
Kezo and Yax landed with a splat. “Pooh! Earth stinks,” Yax said. They were surrounded by fields.
“What is that smell?” Kezo asked. He looked down at the muddy hill. He scanned the words and pictures in his brain. “This isn’t a hill. It’s a pile of cow manure!”
The boys screamed. They somersaulted into the air and landed in a forest of green. They heard a sound in the distance, “Mooooo.”
“Fantastic,” Kezo said. The Mooonstaliens fought through huge blades of grass.
Yax moaned as soil-splodges splattered his eyes. “Why are we following that silly noise?”
“Think about it. What makes a moo sound?”
“How the hoof should I know?”
Kezo sighed and turned back to Yax. “Everything we needed to know was in that Earth book we ate. Remember? Do a search and find out!”
Yax beeped and scanned his brain. “Got it! Hamster! A hamster goes moo.” Yax scanned some more. “A hamster is a kind of fish that you get wool from. Wool is used on Earth to make cakes.”
“No! No! No! A cow goes moo! And you know what comes out of a cow?”
Yax eyeballed his brain. “Manure?”
“No!” Kezo said. “Well yes. But what else. What did we come here for?”
“Because King Cream told us to?”
“MILK!!!” The boys bounced on top of a fence. They spied a farmer attaching a metal sucking-machine to the cow’s wobbly udders.
“How come milk doesn’t come out of our udders?” Yax whispered.
“Legs aren't that useful on the Moon. Over thousands of years, Moonstalien legs got shorter and shorter until they disappeared completely. As we evolved, our udders became our transport - perfect for bouncing around on the Moon. But our ancient ancestors would have looked just like Goddess Bovinia. Well not so big and they weren’t made of stone, but you know what I mean.”
“We used to look like that thing!” Yax stared in horror at the smelly cow. “Urgh. Imagine milk coming out of our udders. We’d have to keep emptying our boots.”
“Shush Yax!” Kezo pulled him behind a bail of hay. “Once the farmer’s gone, we can remove the machine and take a shower in the milk. A shower’s as good as a bath. There are hundreds of cows. If it works, we’ll contact King Cream.”
The farmer left the machine running and wandered off into another building. Kezo and Yax bounced towards the cow. The two Moonstaliens pulled the silver suckers hard. They fell off with a pop. The boys flung their bright blue bodies under the fattest udder. But nothing happened. Not even a drip. “You’ll have to squeeze it,” Kezo said.
“Why don’t you squeeze it?” Yax said.
“All right! You better do it when it’s my turn.” Kezo bounced up and swung on the wobbly udder. He wrapped his horns around it. A tiny jet of milk spurted on top of Yax. It wasn’t nearly enough. Kezo squeezed again. This time nothing happened.
“You’re not doing it right,” Yax said. He jumped up to join Kezo. They swung like shrunken monkeys, pulling the udder hard as they could.
The cow let out an angry moo. The boys let go and scarpered. But as they ran between its front legs, the cow bent forward and licked Kezo and Yax clean from the floor. Suddenly, the boys were trapped in slobbery darkness.
“Grab on to a tooth,” Kezo said. “And don’t let go.”
The two boys wrapped their udders and horns around a molar. The cows tongue lashed against them as it tried to swallow.
Yax squealed at the dangling tonsils in the distance. “I can’t hold on much longer. Use your magic dung nugget.”
“I’m not sure a cow’s an Earthling. It might not work.” Kezo stretched his horn to try and hook his brother.
“It lives on Earth doesn’t it. Just throw it!” Yax lost his grip. “Aaaaargh!”
Kezo whipped his tail. The dung nugget whizzed past Yax and shot down the cow’s throat. Its tongue went limp. Saliva rained on the boys as they skidded towards cracks of light. They used their horns to pries open its teeth and leapt to safety.
They turned round to see if the dung nugget was working. “Look Kezo - its wish is coming true.”
A bow tie flew from nowhere and slid around the cow's neck. Seconds later, he was completely dressed - head to hoof in a tuxedo. A huge veggie feast appeared on a table in front of him – pyramids of pasta, cauldrons of lentil curry, squadrons of soya sausages, nests of nut cutlets and a skyscraper of bean burgers.
“I guess he’s sick of grass!” Kezo laughed and pointed to a building beyond the field. “Come on, maybe there’s milk in there.”