“OK, you’ve got your money, now hand over the green.” Jim opened his palm to receive the vile of luminous liquid, but the alien continued to hold it out of reach.
“Not so fast, Human,” said the alien, his voice coming both from his flapping mouth-parts and from speakers built into his suit’s chest plate – the former in an incomprehensible language of squeaks and whistles, and the latter translated into a passable impersonation of Sean Connery. “First, human give some of human’s blood.”
“Blood?!” Jim recoiled. “Why in the ‘verse do you want my blood?”
“Old squitookian tradition.” The alien shrugged. “Every time squitookian make trade, squitookian take blood. If money fake, squitookian use blood to make curse. Put curse on disreputable trader.”
Jim made an attempt to scratch the top of his head in puzzlement, forgetting that the clear glass helmet of his atmo-suit made such an action impossible. “Wait…” he said. “Shouldn’t I be the one threatening to put a curse on you? I mean, what if this stuff isn’t as good as you claim?”
“Human want blood, I give blood,” the squitookian squeaked defensively. “Green very good. Best shit. No lie.”
What is this green stuff Jim is buying and is it as good as the squitookian dealer claims? What happens next?
Let us know your thoughts and ideas in the comments section below.
Written by Mark Ball.
Image by artificialdesign.