Galaxy Bar
by Marvin Pinkis
In a remote
galaxy in a dim space bar, various shapes gyrated
to sounds that emanated from all around. Others
mingled at a long raised counter with seating
apparatus.
A decent-looking
type, natty space suit open at the collar,
attempted to initiate a conversation with the
next stools occupant. She attracted him
from the moment she entered and had been hit on
by several patrons. With a lethal gaze she
withered them to piles of ashes and filings on
the floor. She approached the bar and mounted a
stool.
Are you
from a galaxy around here? he asked, a line
from a sitcom called Guess My Galaxy.
She turned to
him, deliberating if she should dismiss this
annoyance, but was struck by his appearance- -
bullet-shaped metallic head, the usual number of
limbs, three above and seven below, bedroom-eye
slits.
Listen
buddy, Im from a place so distant it took
me sixty-two light years to get here. Im
beat.
Can I
buy you an Andromeda Cocktail?
No, but
I can go for an Orion Orgy. If they
cant make that, try a FT-6-G, a
popular drink where I come from, but potent.
Ive
heard of them. Hope youre planning to stay
here a few light years to recoup from your
travels.
If I had
a place to crash and if the deal was right, I
could stay as long as I want. If you must know, I
play the galaxies. Been doing it for eons. Some
of the hick places Ive been to and the
oddballs Ive seen, or worse, can set your
hair on end.
Hair?
On some
planets creatures with only two arms and legs,
fuzzy stuff on top of their heads called hair
and
youll laugh at this
one
phallic organ.
She glinted in
a way that suggested she knew her way around,
galaxy-hopping. Adventure, variety, little
concern regarding reputation or harassment by the
Moral forces.
He asked,
This planet with those bizarre creatures,
tell me about it. Hard to imagine only one
phallic organ.
She inhaled
the frothy head of her drink and cast the rest
away.
Another
one, bartender, he offered.
Well,
its been a while since I was there. Maybe
it was too repulsive, even for me. That race was
decreasing rapidly. There was a continual haze
and the inhabitants covered their faces with a
gauze material. It was so congested you could
barely move around. The creatures were of a
violent bent. Anything could arouse deadly action.
Their remains would lie on the ground and
passersby would not even glance. Huge
confrontations between large groups were common
and mass extermination resulted.
What
weaponry?
A
primitive precursor of the rockets we use for our
day-to-day travel. They continually argued over
who would rule them or by what, I think they
called it moral code, they should
abide by and expect others to do the same. Many
obscene ungainly edifices devoted to worship of
spectral entities of different titles. Intriguing,
but I couldnt get away too soon.
What a
dreadful experience. Say, you wouldnt
consider, uh, I mean
Of
course I would. Even just for the company. Your
pad or right here?
Lets
leave. My turbo-transporter is parked outside.
Moving behind
her, he observed her glistening metallic rear,
the curvy factory-made outline, and anticipated a
great time. Had to remember to get lubricant on
the way.
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