MENTORSHIP RECIPIENT

Mentor Commentary:
Isaiah Hunt

Recipient Reflection: 
​Axel McAvinue

The Battle of Milky Mart

Fiction by Axel ​McAvinue

Northeast Ohio Writer

Having just finished his twelve-hour shift at the Milky Way’s asteroid mines, Quinten Altair was exhausted as he stood in line at his local Milky Mart. He had decided to pop into the crowded gas station built on one of Jupiter’s Trojan asteroids to buy himself some extra oxygen tanks, a bag of dehydrated peanuts, and a bottle of filtered water. After hours in a grimy cave, breathing rock dust into his lungs and dreading death by a possible cave-in due to faulty support beams, Milky Mart's fluorescent lights and tacky tiled floors felt like a sanctuary. Or at the very least, a chance to grab himself a quick snack before shuttling home to watch Cosmo’s Cosmic Creature channel (CCC) on his holographic screen and doom-scroll through EHorizon on his communicator. 

Quinten skimmed the candy bars on the display shelf next to the line. Milky Mart had seemingly everything, ranging from Mushmellows: yellow mushrooms with the soft, pillowy flavor of Earth’s marshmallows, Comet Crushers: hard candy made from pure energy that felt like a marble in your mouth, to Janthina Jam: a gel-like substance made out of the bio-matter of an interdimensional slug monster from the XLRIA region which was more savory than sweet. When his eyes finally landed on a lone Milky Way Bar sitting on the bottom shelf, he chuckled to himself. Quinten found it quite ironic that the candy bar named after the Milky Way galaxy was the most popular human-invented candy throughout the universe. It had been a while since he last had a Milky Way Bar. He vaguely remembered receiving a full-sized Milky Way Bar either for his birthday or while trick-or-treating on Halloween when he was four, or maybe five? Either way, it had been a while since he last had one. He reached his arm out to grab it. 

A purple tentacled arm suctioned onto his own. Following the arm back to its owner with his eyes, Quinten realized who he’d snatched the same candy bar away from. His jaw dropped upon seeing a young Rossia Mollusca, whose head only reached his knees, and Quinten wasn’t that tall, even by human standards. He’d heard of these floating squid aliens before from watching a documentary by the CCC about the universe’s most isolated species on his holographic screen. Yet, he had never seen one in soft-bodied flesh, especially not here, in a galaxy that Rossia Mollusca barely occupied. Before he had time to process this close encounter, a fluid that Quinten could only describe as salt water began cascading down the young girl’s bulbous eyes while she began to blubber as if the universe was ending. 

“What is going on?” shouted a shrill voice from behind them. A rose-gold Rossia Mollusca, who was much larger and adorned in a golden necklace with a black pearl attached to its pendant, appeared beside the young one as if phasing into existence. “Why is my daughter crying? What have you done, you gill-less one?” Squinting her eyes at Quinten, she craned what little of a neck she had as she peered down at him. To her, he was nothing more than a bug crawling on the linoleum floor.

Fear skewered Quinten’s heart with an M-1 knife– the kind that can slice through minerals tougher than diamond– the only thought in his mind being, Frack, frack, frack…. If the CCC taught him anything, it was that Rossia Mollusca were extremely protective of their young. “Ma’am, I promise you this is not what you think,” Quinten spluttered while attempting to detach himself from her daughter with one arm. Unfortunately, the suction cups on a Rossia Mollusca were very adherent, and he may have pried on the young girl’s sensitive tentacle a bit too hard. 
 
The tentacle popped off his arm with a loud squelching sound. The young Rossia Mollusca squealed out in pain, “Owie! Mommy!” 
 
The elder Rossia Mollusca began glowing a bright red. She screeched at Quinten, “How dare you hurt my precious daughter!” 
 
Quinten flinched back into the shelf, a downpour of candy pelted him, and the metal frame dug into his back. “I’m sorry!” Instinctively curling in on himself, as if he too were a child, he wailed, “I swear I didn’t mean to hurt her!” The flashing rose-gold Rossia Mollusca hovered closer to him, her shadow cast over his entire body. 
 
Quinten could’ve sworn that his life passed before his eyes. His dream since he was a kid of traveling across the universe, visiting different galaxies, and mingling with different species felt even more distant than whatever galaxy Rossia Mollusca hailed from. He’d originally moved out to the colony stationed on Mars and taken the job as an asteroid miner with the promise that he’d meet a wide range of alien species. Instead, the only company was his surly manager, Darvin, who demanded Quinten work overtime today, same as he did yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that… He’d knocked over some minecarts and told Quinten to count every single ore that had fallen out to make sure they still hit quota. You know, just for good measure. Or maybe just for fun, as if Quinten were his own personal circus monkey. Now this circus monkey would perish to a sucrose-induced slaughter, and he would die a worthless asteroid miner without a proper 401K! 

The Rossia Mollusca pulled her daughter within her abdomen–at least, Quinten thought– her tentacles digging into the young girl’s mantle and their bodies practically melding together, “Do you know who I am?” she hissed.

Quinten quivered as he peeked up at her from behind one of his arms covering his face, “Uh,” he jittered out quite intelligently, “I, uh, I don’t… No?” 

“Well, you are about to find out.” The Rossia Mollusca’s gloopy face smushed into itself as she examined Quinten’s ratty hair and smudged clothes in an expression riddled with disgust. “I’ll make sure you are put into a cell that is by far filthier than whatever rank hole you decided to slither out of before your pathetic form found its way into my precious, Pacifica’s presence and decided to attack her.” 

Quinten raised his hands in the air, still clinging to the Milky Way Bar as if it were a security blanket. “What? No! There’s no need for such extremes. This is all simply a misunderstanding. I assure you, ma’am. I did nothing of the sort!” 

Pacifica, whom had slumped to the linoleum floor underneath her mother’s arms and was sucking on her sore limb, still spewed salty tears out of her eyes. She noticed the Milky Way Bar clenched in Quinten’s white-knuckled grasp and stretched her free purple tentacle towards the candy. “He took it!” she garbled out around her swollen appendage.

Pacifica’s Mom paused in her verbal evisceration of Quinten to gaze down at her daughter. “What was that, my pearl?” she said in a syrupy, sweet tone of voice. 

“My Milky Way Bar!” Pacifica jabbed once more at the incriminating confectionery treat. “He took it!” she sniffed, pulling the sore tentacle out of her mouth and using it to wipe off her face, replacing the tears covering it with drool. 

“You did what?” Pacifica’s Mom’s eyes snapped back to Quinten. They almost seemed to pop out of her head, more than they already could, big as they were. 

Quinten glanced at the candy bar in his fist. Technically, he had grabbed it first. He debated his options. He could drop the Milky Way Bar like it had seared his skin, plead for mercy, and allow Pacifica to devour his well-deserved reward after all the unpaid hours of overtime Darvin had weaseled him into agreeing to do. 

Or he could run.

Milky Bar still in hand, Quinten sprinted. He dropped his empty basket, the oxygen tanks, dehydrated peanuts, and filtered water abandoned on the conveyor belt. He fled from the pair of Rossia Mollusca as fast as his suit could allow him, only to bump face-first into the chest of something that felt very muscular and was covered in coarse navy-blue fur. A giant gorilla– which Quinten quickly identified as a Beringei from the jungles of the XLRIA region– loomed over him, puffing hot air onto Quinten’s helmet, fogging it up. Lucky for the Beringei, he didn’t need a helmet. Unfortunately for Quinten, he could barely see, only the Beringei’s yellowed fangs glinting in the gas station’s fluorescent light. The Beringei plucked Quinten by his shoulders with his giant, calloused hands and swiveled him around, thrusting him back toward the Rossia Mollusca. Putting Quinten into a headlock, he grunted, “Is this chimp bothering you, madam?”

“Why, yes!” Pacifica's Mom shrieked incredulously, draping one of her long, flabby tentacles against her chest. “He is harassing my beautiful daughter!” 

“-And stole my Milky Way Bar!” Pacifica gestured to the bar of chocolate-covered nougat and caramel still clutched in Quinten’s fist. 

The Beringei sneered at Quinten and used his free arm to try and wrench the candy bar out of Quinten’s grasp. Quinten desperately thrashed around in the Beringei’s unyielding grip, “No, I swear! I meant no harm! Please, you have to believe me!” Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes. He was sweaty, and his heart was a jackhammer, pounding out holes in stone for blasting. 

“It was mine first!” he whined and immediately realized he had stooped to this young Rossia Mollusca’s level, being four again, fighting off the neighborhood teenagers trying to steal his Halloween candy, who had torn his grey alien mask off his face and mocked him. Quinten and the Beringei yanked back and forth, squishing the bar in its wrapper, practically breaking the seal. 

A crowd had begun to form. A multitude of different species, ranging from the huge, magmatic cherufes of Terrafirmia to the small imps from Parvus, orbited the group. Quinten was boxed in. There was no way out. His tantrum was only making things worse. He couldn’t breathe. Air was coming in through his oxygen tank, but this situation was suffocating him. His hand reflexively grasped his helmet, just to make sure it was still on his suit properly. 

The Beringei ripped the Milky Way Bar from Quinten’s grip and dropped him to the ground. He shambled over to Pacifica's Mom and handed the candy bar over to her with a flourish that Quinten thought was a little excessive for the situation. He didn’t need to kneel on the ground to hand her a candy bar; it’s not like he was proposing. 

Pacifica's Mom accepted the offering with a smug smirk. “Well, now,” she cooed, “it’s mine.” 

“Uh, excuse me, Mrs. Queen-Lady?”

A cube of lime green slime, wearing a white and blue cap with the name “Milky Mart” stitched into the front panel, called out in a droning voice from behind the counter. A barely distinguishable name tag floated at the epicenter of its gooeyness that Quinten could only interpret as saying “Globe” next to a half-digested jar of Janthina Jam. “But, like, I was sitting here the whole time and saw the whole exchange, and the dude really didn’t mean any harm. He didn’t attack your daughter, and he had his hand on that candy bar first.” 

A breath of fresh air. Oh, taste that sweet O2!
 
“Not gonna lie,” Globe(?) continued to murmur out in its dull, monotonous voice, “it’s kinda rude of you to take it from him.”

“How dare you!” Pacifica's Mom gaped at Globe(?) seemingly scandalized that anyone might stand up to her. “Are you accusing my darling Pacifica of lying?” she hollered, appalled with the notion. “She would never do such a thing! She is a sweet little angelfish!” She jabbed her tentacle toward Quinten and his blackened overalls.“This is all obviously his fault! I mean just look at him. Wearing those filthy rags! He must be SAVAGE.” 

The crowd encircling the three gasped in shock. Then, silence.

Darvin’s words echoed in Quinten’s head.

“I don’t understand why we insist on hiring these pathetic humans,” Darvin scoffed into the company communicator. Four of his six legs were crossed across his thorax as he leaned against the mine’s walls, smoking nectar out of a metal pipe. His compound eyes glided lazily over Quinten, who was scrambling to mine the minerals at the top of the ceiling with a pickaxe instead of the company’s high-end drills to 'save costs’. Quinten was no stranger to Darvin’s antenna flicking back-and-forth, his species way of showing annoyance. 

The Beringei who’d taken place beside the Rossia Mollusca, slowly dropped his arms and stiffened his proud demeanor. His eyes widened at Pacifica's Mom, flickering alongside the faulty aisle six lights. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Pacifica's Mom spat at the Beringei. “You know it’s true. These hairless apes as you might refer to them, are simply primitive, feral, inferior versions of you!” She gestured up and down at Quinten’s whole body. “They can’t even differentiate common folk from nobility. Let alone do anything correctly!” 

The sheer look of horror on the Beringei’s face was the fuel to finally rocket him into action. The tether to Quinten’s patience snapped.

With a scream that bounced around the aluminum-clad walls like a bullet, Quinten tore the deformed Milky Way Bar out of the Rossia Mollusca’s tentacles with a violent squelching sound rivaling that of earlier. Pacifica's Mom flinched back. Her sore tentacle curled into her abdomen in response to the sharp, sudden pain. 

“Now you listen here, lady!” Quinten roared, all his pent-up frustration channeled into this moment. “I don’t care who you are! You do not get to treat people with such blatant disregard for their rights as a living being!” 

It was as if the tanks of salt water attached to the sides of Pacifica's Mom's mantle, and the tubes connected to her gills underneath her skirt disconnected, leaving her a shriveled mess on the linoleum floor.

Quinten now towered over the woman. “Every day, I get treated like walking space junk!” His disappointment with where his life had ended up, bitterness concerning his minimum wage pay, and resentment toward the amount of disrespect he was meant to tolerate day by day, thrust out of him like an explosion. “The least I deserve is to be able to treat myself to a Milky Way Bar without some entitled jerk like you accusing me of stealing it, tearing it away from me, then calling me feral. I want you to apologize! Right. NOW.” 

The Rossia Mollusca quivered beneath Quinten. An orbital strike of guilt promptly slammed into Quinten’s chest. All this pent-up rage from the mining, the overtime, and Darvin, spilled out onto this random gas station’s floor. There would need to be a clean-up on aisle three. 

Salt water sloshed around Pacifica’s Mom’s tanks as she wobbled underneath him. “I… I can’t believe you are treating me this way. You are not allowed to treat me this way…” she bubbled out. Her eyes began to glisten with the same substance as Pacifica’s before they hardened up, and she rose from the floor. “You are not allowed to treat me this way! You are nothing more than a gill-less flounder! I don’t need to apologize to a savage beast like you!” 

Roused from his stupor by Quinten’s scream, the Beringei moved next to Quinten, placed his large palm on his shoulder and growled, “Well, maybe you should!”

Globe(?) jiggled morosely in its chair. “Dude, she definitely should.” 

The crowd in the store, emboldened by Quinten’s display, also began to shout their disapproval toward the rose-gold Rossia Mollusca:

“How dare you use a slur like that towards a Human with a Beringei present!” 

“Not cool, lady!” 

“Someone record this!”

“Flurp off, you xenophobic glorp!” 

Pacifica's Mom flailed her arms around under her abdomen in a way that invoked a toddler stomping her feet. “I don’t care!” she blubbered. “I don’t need to apologize to him! He’s savage! Savage, savage, savage! He attacked my daughter! I want him arrested! I want him thrown in the dingiest jail cell there is! I want justice!”

Globe(?) sighed, sucking the communicator off the stand atop the galaxy’s barely legible lottery listings and into its body. “Either you leave, or I’m calling the authorities.” 

Glowing bright red, Pacifica's Mom continued to rave, “You cannot do this to me! You must know who I am! I am-”

Globe(?) began ingesting the communicator into its body with a loud slurp. “You are outside of your jurisdiction. You have no legal authority in this region. Now leave, or be escorted off these premises in handcuffs. Your choice, lady.” 

Pacifica's Mom huffed, pulling Pacifica off the ground where she’d been reaching for the Milky Way Bar in Quinten’s hand. “Fine then!” She glared at Quinten. “This is not over, you hear me! You will pay for this!” She slinked out of the room on all eight of her arms, not bothering to look back. Pacifica dangled behind her, tentacle still outstretched, reaching out for the Milky Way Bar. 

Quinten looked down at the Milky Way Bar clenched victoriously in his fist. He had done it. He’d finally stood up for himself. Just one time! And it paid off!

Quinten exhaled a deep sigh and stepped up to Globe(?) at the counter. With a shaky hand, he placed the Milky Way Bar onto the conveyor belt alongside the oxygen tanks, dehydrated peanuts, and filtered water. The cube of slime absorbed his purchases and checked him out with a price scanner floating underneath the jar of Janthina Jam, leaving behind a viscous residue.

“That’ll be 675 Quwayzos.”

“Thanks, uh, Globe?” 

“It’s Globert, actually.”

“Oh, uh…” Quinten rubbed the back of his helmet awkwardly. “Thanks, Globert.” 

“No problem, man.” Globert hummed. “So, those Quwayzos?” 

“Oh, yeah, right!” Quinten reached into his wallet to pull out his Quwayzos. 

Only to be met with an empty wallet. 

The Beringei who had previously held him in a headlock and stolen his Milky Way Bar tapped the top of Quinten’s helmet and held out some Quwayzos, “I got it. Sorry about that, brother.”

Quinten smiled at him. “Thanks.”

The Beringei flashed him with his large canines. “It was so brave of you to stand up to a queen like that. Good on you, man!”

Quinten faltered. His legs practically seeped into the floor like Jell-O, as if he were made from the same slime as Globert. “What?” He squeaked out.

“Yeah, it was so cool-” The Beringei shut up once he saw Quinten’s pale face.

“Woah, dude. You okay? You look just like me.” How Globert could tell with no eyes, Quinten didn’t know. 

“Queen?” The word fell out of Quinten’s mouth in a whisper. 

“Oh, man.” Globert sighed. “Dude, didn’t you hear me say queen? You didn’t know?”


A week later, the Intergalactic News Network interrupted an episode of the CCC airing on Quinten’s holographic screen with, “BREAKING NEWS: QUEEN CORDELIA RULER OF THE ROSSIA MOLLUSCA DECLARES WAR ON EARTH AFTER ATTACK ON HER DAUGHTER.”

A piece of Milky Way Bar Quinten had saved fell out of his mouth and onto his bed sheets. 

​“Oh. Shit.”

Axel McAvinue​

Axel McAvinue (He/Him) is a queer writer and poet from Bay Village, Ohio, whose love for telling stories blossomed in the first grade. He is a recent graduate from Cleveland State University with a BFA in Creative Writing and Film & Media Arts. He currently spends his days watching over other people's pets as a doggy daycare attendant and soaking in tons of puppy love.