Solar Opposites

Why the F did we leave Clervix 3

to come back to this broke-ass planet?

Look at my skin.

It's cracking from all the dryness, the air, the climate change,

my addiction to blow-drying my scalp.

Korvy, baby, hard disagree.

I love Earth. I missed organizing all my T-shirts into loose categories.

Hey, aliens! A little help?

Is that our neighbor yelling at us like a goddamn animal?

- - Who?

Korvo, you gotta stop with the hair dryer.

You got no hair, you're burning a hole in your head,

and you're making the house smell like broccoli.

I got your mail while you were on vacay.

Shit-ton of packages.

You guys really lean into that "buy now" button.

Ooh, my subscription boxes.

I love the thrill of having someone else make

my purchasing decisions.

I know you lovebirds just got married,

so I'm thinking super fancy honeymoon, huh?

Yeah, right. I would never be caught on a low-rent, trash-ass moon.

- Me neither. - Come on.

You guys know what a honeymoon is, right?

- What? Of course, we do. - How dare you!

Piss yourself until you die, Kevin!

If there's anything we know, it's what a bloody honeymoon is.

According to Wikipedia, a honeymoon is

an uninterrupted newlywed vacation taken immediately after the wedding.

We're late for our mandatory sex vacay?

We gotta leave right now.

You're right. I'll book us a room at the nicest resort in Canada,

the sexiest of all countries.

Quick, pack several things we won't end up wearing

and some heavy books we won't end up reading.

- On it. -

Can someone drop me off at the mall?

OshKosh B'Gosh is having a sale on all their galoshes.

We're doing special husbands-only time,

and Wikipedia says we can't be interrupted.

I tried playing softball,

and I underhand pitched too fast.

Sorry, pal, I can't help you,

because half of the Solar Opposites

are goin' on a honeymoon.

Planet Shlorp was a perfect utopia,

until the asteroid hit.

One hundred adults and their replicants were issued a Pupa

and escaped into the... space,

searching for new homes on uninhabited worlds.

We crashed on Earth,

stranding us on an already overpopulated planet.

That's right, I've been talking this whole time.

I'm the one holding the Pupa.

My name is Korvo. This is my show.

Bollocks, I just dropped the Pupa.

Ugh. This is ridiculous. I hate Earth.

It's a horrible home. People are stupid and confusing.

They eat cheese, which is mold,

but when I scrape mold off my feet in a movie theater,

everyone gets all like, "Oh, oh, oh, don't do that. It's gross."

Alright, let's make this quick.

I'm late for my other job,

where I stand in front of self-driving cars

to see if they detect humans.

Are you doing a bit? Is that really a job?

Of course, it is. Now shut up.

Due to your planetary absence, you two are failing Sex Ed.

I'm not sure we need to learn about the sex, Ms. Frankie.

Yeah, we reproduce asexually,

without any floppy human organs.

We have these things called shmelk holes.

Each Shlorpian has a unique one.

Shut up! My paycheck is based on how many students pass.

So, if you fail,

I swear I'll make sure you get held back a year.

No!

We can't hang with the younger kids.

They're intimidating as hell.

Those bitches were raised on Euphoria.

Ah!

Please, we'll do anything.

Good. We also made porn dioramas

to make sure you dumbass teenagers comprehended the material.

Oh, sorry, that's my rusty trombone.

I meant that.

Can't we just be emancipated from school

like tennis prodigies?

I wish. How good's your game?

- -

You're impressive on clay,

but your grass game falls to shit.

It's a no-go on the emancipation.

What a proclamation!

Part of Sex Ed is learning

that your actions have, oh, consequences.

Fucky-fucky can lead to some shit.

So, you two have to take care of this bag of sugar

as if it were a baby for an entire week.

It's conflict sugar, which I'm not proud of, but it tastes better.

I use it to bake oven-fresh cookies that trick men into staying the night.

Pssht, that's it? Easy mode.

Could have been easy mode,

but now that you disrespected my sugar,

you also have to sci-fi it into a real baby.

But I don't want a Sugar Baby.

I want a sugar daddy, or at least a sugar legal guardian.

And it's rude to assume that just because we're aliens,

we have the technology to bring things to life.

Uh-huh. Tell it to Principal Cooke's living car.

- - That's it, good car, good car.

- Get the carrot. Fuck! -

Okay, that was us.

Oh, shit, it's coming back for more.

Oh! Oh, God!

Fine, here comes the sci-fi.

- It's so cute. - Aww, hi, baby.

You have one week to keep it alive.

- It can die, right? - Oh, yeah.

Good, I mean bad.

Don't let that happen.

- We have to respect life in all its forms. -

It's grinding my bones into dust.

Oh, my God, I had no idea how turned on I'd get

by making out on a bed shaped like an organ.

I'm glad you talked me out of the Bahamas.

Nothing beats

Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Resort, eh?

Canadian Reddit won't shut up aboot it.

They have the best gin and Isn't-It-I-Tonics in the province.

Ding-dong. Sorry to interrupt you two love slugs.

But I have complimentary champagne, some big rush zip,

and a pile of Simple Simons with your name on it.

Ah, yes, I understood almost half of that.

It's drugs.

Wait a minute, complimentary zip?

- When does that ever happen? - Well, it's your honeymoon.

You get all sorts of free stuff.

What's the catch, bellman?

You ought to know, I have one hand in my pocket,

and the other one is waiting for a tip.

I've never tipped, and I never shall.

- Get outta here! - Sweetie.

Ugh. Fine.

Now get outta here.

Damn, I was all wet to get married, but I had no idea

how great the honeymoon perks would be.

Yes, everyone's falling over themselves to be nice to us,

just because we've taken their monogamy oath.

Upgraded to first class, big bowl of fruit in the room.

What about all those chocolate dicks we received on arrival?

You guzzled those down. Nom, nom, nom.

Guilt-free dicks.

When people find out you're on your honeymoon,

it's a free Genie Pass to the best shit.

As a married husband,

I think we should enjoy this unexpected boon

without taking it to the extreme.

Mm-hmm, I hear you on that,

but counterpoint from an equally married husband:

Why don't we run around and stress-test this shit

so we can see how much fun stuff we can get?

- Only if we 69.5 first. - Do I have to?

I'd love that.

Hey, those are my French fries.

We're on our honeymoon.

Aww, I'll get you truffle oil.

- - Ah, help!

Someone call the mounted police.

I'm on my honeymoon, you old bitch.

Enjoy your love.

- H-moon hotties here! -

This is our spa day now.

But we're on our honeymoon too.

- Oh, shit! - Checkmate!

You're all entitled to a special rubbing.

Uh, oh, yeah!

Honey, you can't just shoot a gun

into the ceiling to get people's attention.

But it's my honeymoon.

Oh, shit, right, congratulations.

- - Ow, Pupa!

Punch JK Sevens somewhere else.

And can you keep that Sugar Baby quiet?

I'm trying to game here.

I carried this baby for nine whole blocks

on the way home.

The least you can do is tell me I'm doing a good job.

Oh, come on, I don't want him.

My arms are tired.

We are totally failing at being a mandatory school family.

I think it wants to feel skin to bag.

Take off your shirt.

Ugh, Pupa, JK, get away from me!

And, Jesse, you gotta stop reading those parenting subreddits.

But their judgments keep me awake at night,

which helps me stay alert for night-time feedings.

Let's just do what all reasonable parents do