The milky way, overlooked by most space-faring species as a lifeless, barren formation of planets orbiting a single star. There are no spaceports, bars, and here you definitely won’t find any three-breasted Valuvian women juggling space balls. It is however, home to Humans. Join us as we take a closer look at this fascinating species.
To the casual observer, the Human bar scene is a rare opportunity for these creatures to get in fights, puke on each other, and sleep with total strangers. However, it plays an important role in their development. For the less socially developed, it is the only place in which to find a mate. It allows the less-attractive members of the species access to individuals normally unavailable to them. Most importantly, the bar is home to a most curious subspecies of Humans: The barfly.
The Human barfly is mostly nocturnal, coming out during the day only to perform menial tasks that will support its nightly activities. In this environment, males are often seen in disproportionate numbers, and tend to remain stationary in a single bar. The females band together in tight-knit groups for defense, and are much more mobile than their male counterparts, giving them a greater range of mates to choose from.
Unlike males, the early years of the female barfly are by far her most productive. She has one goal in mind: to be desired. It is a role which evolution, instinct, and years of delusions of finding the perfect man have prepared her well for.
In the early years of the female barfly, her “hottie” stage, she will rule her world. Vying for her company will be all types of male barflies: Geeks, Douchebags, Metro-sexuals, and aging bald males with superior transportation. They will ply her with the sweet vodka cranberry nectar she desires. She will take the nectar but will refuse the advances, knowing this only strengthens their desire of her. Over several years, the successful female barfly will watch as weaker rivals are picked up and snatched from the scene. She will develop a following of lesser barflies, referred to as her “girls” or “bitches,” hoping to feed off the scraps of her success. Eventually, she will become queen of the barflies.
The queen’s life cycle is a short one. She will overindulge in the bounty of free drinks, and bask in her glory, while, unbeknownst to her, the advance of age and deterioration of her liver take their toll. Her previous subcutaneous layers of fat will start becoming visible, giving her a somewhat comic, awkward appearance as she refuses to accept that her midriff is now best left unexposed. The sudden lack of attention from males will shock her into taking a continuing series of drastic steps - dancing on bars, making out with strangers on the dance floor, and drinking twice what she used to - eventually leading to her dethronement.
The male, whose ultimate goal is sweaty intercourse, will struggle for years to find his footing in the bar scene. He spends his early years in dark corners, congregating in great numbers with other males his age. They often make spectacles of themselves trying to out-yell, out-drink, and out-dance each other for the females’ attention. However, evolutionary instincts in female warn the majority of them to avoid males displaying this type of behavior.
Time however, is on the male’s side. As he matures, he evolves, and through trial and error learns what the female wants. The most successful of the species will learn what the female most needs and will then, in a brilliant display of tactical genius, refuse to give it to her, thus driving her mad with desire for him.
Although male barflies most desire the younger of the species, in a curious almost perfect design, it is the former bar queens, on their precipitous decline in the hierarchy, who are most willing to accept these young unskilled males’ advances. In a twisted symbiotic relationship, the male will give the female a fleeting moment of glory she felt only in her younger years, and she will in turn provide him with the skills, knowledge, and most importantly, the confidence he lacks to go after the younger females.
Eventually, life informs the barfly when it’s time to exit the scene. Be it through marriage, liver transplant, balding - there is no one single way. For those who choose to stay, they do so as observers. They step back, take their seat at the bar, and watch the dance cycle repeat itself.
