Posted by Scott Wilson

By Scott Wilson
Word Count: 235

“Wow, what a great breakfast buffet. Very impressive.”

“No, Viknahkran,” the hostess said. “They are the other guests at the hotel.”

The alien quivered and let out a screech. “What am I to eat if these humans are not my meal?”

The hostess took Viknahkran’s tentacle and led him to the buffet of sausages, eggs and other hot and cold food.

Viknahkran screeched again. “This is not good enough. Your Prime Minister assured me that I would be shown every possible hospitality. Withholding these humans from me could be seen as and act of hostility and possibly, war!”

The hostess said a few quiet words into her wrist communicator, and then put her sunglasses on.

“This won’t take a moment Viknahkran,” she said.

A green light flashed in the hotel restaurant and the guests ceased moving.
“You can take your pick from these humans, Viknahkran. But I must advise you that this is most unorthodox.”

Viknahkran slithered to an overweight, middle aged man near the ice-cream machine and licked his sweaty, bald head.

“I think you will find that this will be part of our peace treaty with your planet,” Viknahkran said. “We don’t need much food, but your species DNA, satisfies our dietary requirements, especially these ones filled with so much fatty tissue.”


This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 20, 2009 at 6:56 PM . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .


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