Posted by PK on February 04, 2002 at 17:01:19:
"Or I could just eat you," Albert offered helpfully. "I'm sure you'd like it." After all, money
wasn't everything. He stuck his tongue out. This could be interpreted in a number of ways.
Alysand moaned involuntarily. This was just too much. Another difficult customer. First he
wanted one thing, then another. Stop it girl, she told herself, realising the unreality of the
situation was edging her towards hysteria. Or something like that. She gulped and, for a beat,
just stared at the apparition, uncertain how to react.
Albert groaned inwardly. Why did he have to say that? All that effort put into locating a shop
that sold what he wanted and opened late, in a fairly quiet part of town. Getting here
unnoticed, even for a Space Toad skilled in stealth, had been risky and difficult. Straining his
powers of empathic projection he had almost fuddled her into accepting the situation as
normal. And now, because he had blurted out a premature proposition, because he couldn't
resist the call of his appetites, the shopgirl was probably going to start screaming, call the
police, run away...
He'd blown it. He wouldn't get what he'd come for, he'd be lucky to get away unscathed.
There wouldn't be any point trying to catch her if she ran, an Aldebaranian couldn't catch an
alerted human female in her own habitat, they were too fast and agile.
Undecided for a moment, he just froze and stared back. "Er..." he said, hoping an idea would
cross his mind if he started speaking, "I just meant..er...." Brilliant.
Alysand's mind was racing in all directions, stripping its gears. Try to pull it together. No point
hitting the panic button, the police never came in time, she'd seen the films. Besides, the
alien doubtless had some high-tech device that disabled the alarms and the phone lines.
Maybe...
She played for time. Gulping convulsively, she spoke at last. Her voice sounded high and
over-bright. "You'll...uh...eat me if I don't give you the..ah...?"
That wasn't what Albert had meant at all, but at least she wasn't screaming. Albert had no
idea why she hadn't called for help, he had no illegal ET-tech weaponry, it would have
violated the terms of his hunting license, even if he'd actually been hunting her, which for
once he wasn't. He was slightly relieved. It was all just a misunderstanding. "No, not at all,
really, I only meant..." Uh oh. Don't say it.
Alysand tried to help. "You'll eat me if I DO give you the...uh...?" What was it? Oh yes.
Should I give him the stuff or not? It was a toughie. Hello hysteria.
This is getting ridiculous, Albert thought. I should have said yes, she seemed to be going with
it. I could have bluffed, got the stuff for nothing. Now what? The other, other operation? He
couldn't think what to say. "Marmalade," he heard himself say. An odd sensation crept over
him.
Alysand started to giggle. "You're not very good at this, are you?" she spluttered between
gulps. "New monster on the block?" She cracked up again.
That's not fair, Albert thought indignantly, his warts reddening. "I'm a very good hunter," he
protested. "I'm just not used to smuggling."
"Smuggling?" For some reason this made the girl worse. She seemed to be having
convulsions. "You're smuggling, what, marmalade?"
"I just wanted to upgrade my larder," he tried to explain, "I needed the money, so...."
"You turned to crime." It was an effort to gasp this out. "Normally you just eat people, of
course."
One of the reasons Albert liked humans was their sense of humour. That and the fact that
their women were delicious, of course. Most Aldebaranians were a sombre lot, Albert found
them a little stuffy and dull after he had travelled. Hardly a snigger in a cartload. He began to
get into the spirit of things, only dimly aware that his slender empathic link with the girl
snapped into place as he relaxed and stopped taking himself so seriously. "Of course. I eat
lots of people," he said in a light, bantering tone, mocking his own embarrassment.
Alysand couldn't help liking a man with a self-deprecating sense of humour and a British
accent. She had no way of knowing that it was a product of the program running on the
alien's neural interface translator/vocoder, or the effect the feedback from that had on his
mind, adding to his empathic link with her and feeding back again. Strange loops. Nor could
she (would she) ever know the degree to which watching old Ealing comedies and Monty
Python had informed the alien's consciousness.
Folie a deux. QED. The Vulcan has landed. Contact. Fishhook.
"Oh? How exactly do you do that?" Alysand had adopted Albert's own mocking tone. She was
out from behind the counter. Show me, her posture said.
Gulp. "Well, you'll have to close the door," Albert suggested. He was intoxicated and
confident in his Loki-Lucifer mode. Suave Devilish Joker, Terry-Thomas, thank you! Back at
the roots, his dismal Aldebaranian swamp-self told him 'No fucking chance.' He ignored it.
Aysande walked over to the front door. She knew that she was mad as a hatter. She locked
the door and changed the sign from 'open' to 'closed'. She watched herself grabbing a bottle
of wine off the rack and inviting the Space Thing to join her in a drink. She sat on the counter
and said, "Grab a brew." She swung her legs.
Albert was mesmerised. Any moment now her shoes would fall off, he was sure. Then he'd
see her toes and then...night follows day.
He couldn't be responsible for his actions. No jury would convict him. No jury would need to,
he reminded himself. I'm a Space Monster, they'll just marmalise me.
"Help yourself," Alysand said.
Albert grabbed a six pack of Miller Lite and poured them all down his throat. This operation
was not going to plan at all. His trans/prog/voc whatever (oh, look it up, work it out for
yourself, do what thou wilt) took his mouth by the horns. "Got any REAL beer?" he said. Oh
well, go with the flow....