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August 14, 2007

Tuesday

Written or implied, today's story begins with...

"Do you know what we do to people like you?"

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David: Could've Been Worse. Could've Had A Banjo

“Um, give them tea and cakes, accept their sincere apology and a promise never to do it again, and send them on their way, thoroughly chastised and having learned an important lesson?”

“Nope. Close, though. First, we stake you spread-eagled on the ground. Then, we all line up and take turns kicking you in the junk until we think you’ve seen the error of your ways. Then we let you go.”

“You do? Oh, good.”

“Then we set the dogs after you. After they’re done, we drag what’s left back here and marry it to our sister what got despoiled.”

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Jim: At The Pallas Palace Bar & Grill

Bradley turned away from the bar and up into a pair of angry eyes framed by a broad, craggy face. “What do you mean by ‘people like me’?”

The man cracked thick knuckles “We mean freaks,” he growled. Several other thugs gathered around.

“I’m no mutant,” Bradley spat out the word. “Why would you think I was?”

“It’s the smell,” the man replied, stepping closer. “All freaks have that same stink.”

Bradley felt the hatred filling the mob. Reflexively, thousands of his tiny pores jetted a fine haze of ebony ink. He ducked under the cloud and out the door.

Read more from Jim's .

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Michele: Extermination

"You know what we do with people like you?"
"I'm not an...."
The creature pushed me against the wall.
"I know what you are, earthling."

His breath stunk. I turned my head. He wrenched my neck back toward him.
"Where are you from, human?"
I pulled out my fake ID.
"Mergon. Galaxy 145."

The creature examined it. It was real enough to make him think twice about killing me. Mergon was under protection.

He spit on me and walked away.

I didn't feel relief. Just a great shame at denying everything I was to stay alive maybe one more day.

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Jeff R.: Multiple Choice

"Do you give them extravagant gifts from your pretty baubles and filthy lucre?"

"No."

"Let me guess again. How about treating them to a sumptuous seven-course dinner, then?"

"Sorry, still wrong."

"Surely you don't fall down upon your rather boney knees and worship them as gods?"

"Afraid not. And before you ask, neither do we send any of our attractive young virgins to entertain them in their tents."

"I never said-"

"You were thinking about it."

"Hmpf. I don't suppose...?"

"Yes?"

"Brutally murder them, violate their corpses, and steal their worldly possessions."

"No. Wait, yes."

"Almost got you, though."

"Almost"

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