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Salty
by Jeff Gerstenfeld |
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Joe
and Denny just shook their heads. This
wasn’t the first time Freddy tried to sell them some bullshit story.
But Freddy looked serious this time, as if he really believed it
himself. "Freddy, look at me," said Joe slowly, as if
he were talking to a small child. "How many beers have you had?" "This afternoon, when the thing landed, none.
Before you guys walked into the bar, only two.
Hey, I’m not making this one up. It really happened!" The three old friends were regulars at Kruger’s Bar
and Grill. They’d meet every
Sunday night, share a few beers, tell a few tall tales, and in general
bullshit the evening away. Freddy
was never particularly serious, but this evening he looked different. "OK, tell us the details," said Joe. "It’s Sunday afternoon, right?
I’m lying on my hammock on the back porch minding my own
business, when all of a sudden I hear this whizzing noise like a big
mother mosquito heading my way. I
look up and I see this shiny machine. This spaceship flies right past me,
and plops down right on my lawn. I’m
looking at it thinking, what the fuck could that be, when these three
astronauts walk out of the ship." "Astronauts? How did you know they were
astronauts?" asked Denny. "Because they fucking looked like astronauts!
They had spacesuits, and helmets, and everything.
"Anyway, each of them did something else, like
they had all planned this in advance.
One of them stuck a flag into the ground and made a little speech;
one of them checked some instruments or something; and the other one
filmed the whole thing. The
one that checked the instruments said that the air’s OK, and they all
took off their helmets." Joe was smirking. "How
did you understand what they were saying if they came from outer
space?" "They were talking English, asshole!
The whole galaxy talks English!
Ain’t you never watched no science fiction movies?" "And they just ignored you?" Joe asked. "Yeah, that was the funniest thing.
Here they are, walking around in my yard, and it was like they
didn’t even notice me." "They must have been blind to miss an ugly fart
like you. These astronauts,
they look anything like us?" "Not at all," said Freddy. "Each one’s
skin was a different color. There
was one with light skin—like the color of a peach.
One had brown skin, and the other’s skin was yellowish.
And they were all UG-LY! The
yellowish one seemed to be their leader.
He was telling them all what to do." Freddy hesitated, as if he were trying to remember what
happened next. "So?" asked Denny. "Anyway, they took off their helmets and were
talking about how wonderful it was to be visiting an alien planet, when I
asked them what the hell they’re doing in my backyard.
Boy, did they have a shit fit!
They looked up and saw me, and two of them started running back to
their spaceship. Their leader
had to call them back. "So this leader guy looks straight at me, and
gives me this fancy speech, telling me that they’re humans from Earth,
and that they’ve been traveling for years looking for a planet with
intelligent life. He says
they’ve come in peace, and want to share their technology with us.
Oh, yeah, and that they are profoundly honored to meet me." Joe laughed. "Honored to meet YOU? What fucking
morons!" "What’s an Earth?" Denny asked, as he
chomped on the salted peanuts somebody else left at the bar. "I dunno. Maybe
it’s the soft drink or sneakers company that sponsored their trip,"
answered Freddy. "So what’d you do with the astronauts?" "I ate 'em. They
were only two inches tall." "You ate them?" asked Joe.
"Intelligent creatures come to visit our world and you fucking
eat them?" "These little assholes leave their homes and
families, fly halfway across the galaxy and plop down in the middle of my
backyard with no prior invitation. You
call that intelligent?" "Yeah, but isn’t eating them a little
severe?" asked Joe. "We got the right to eat anything that walks,
crawls, flies, or slithers into our yards," demanded Freddy. "Is
that not correct?" "Yeah, but—" "Hey, food is food, buddy." Joe downed the rest of his beer, and asked
contemplatively, "So, were they any good?" "Not especially to my liking.
Exotic flavor. Way too
salty. Bad aftertaste.
And their space suits got stuck between my teeth." "Ugh," said Denny.
"That’s disgusting." "They must have had a few more astronauts left in
their ship, cause as soon as I ate their friends that ship hauled ass out
of here as fast as it fucking could." "Hey, Dave! Another round of beers here!"
Freddy called out to the bartender.
Just thinking about that aftertaste was making him thirsty again. Dave slithered over, holding one glass of beer in each
of his six florescent orange claws. Freddy,
Joe, and Denny grabbed two beers each.
"Cheers!" said Dave, as he slithered back to the bar. Denny looked Freddy right in the eyes.
All eight of them. "I think you’re just making this up." "You think so?
Take a—" Freddy turned suddenly to the left.
"Just a second." A
loud "ZEEEEP!" was heard as Freddy’s long, pale green tongue
shot out to catch a small blue 12-legged insect that had the bad luck to
fly nearby. Freddy chomped on
the helpless creature with great delight.
"Tasty little bugger!" "You’re gonna have to pay for that, you know.
That cheap bastard Kruger charges for extras here," Denny
said. "It was worth it." Freddy swallowed loudly.
"Where was I?" "I said you’re bullshitting us." "The hell I am!
Take a look at this!" Freddy
showed them the Earthlings’ flag—a multicolored piece of finely
stitched cloth, attached to a two-inch long stainless steel flagpole. The
pole had a pointed end where it had been pushed into the dirt. "Nice
piece of work," Denny admitted. Joe and Denny drank their beer, as Freddy held the
flagpole in his left front pincer just in front of his many eyes.
Was he contemplating the intergalactic implications of what he had
done? Did he have
remorse at the loss of innocent, intelligent life or the missed
possibilities of technological cooperation with an alien race? No, Freddy was thinking of something far more
practical. That
stainless steel flagpole would make an excellent toothpick. |
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