First contact


THE WORLD STOPS HERE is a rather popular pub, its footfall envy to many other such places. It attracted a very varied clientele; one can chance upon a myriad of personalities, oddities and types alike. Maybe that is the precise reason the cloaked man aroused no one’s curiosity as he attempted to blend in with the crowd. But he should have. His name is ходок облака (Cloud Walker in English) and he was an alien.

Adept in the ways of humans, Cloud Walker, Cloudy to make it easier, heads over to a darkened corner, observing his potential targets. He sits alone at a table, turning and twisting all around, his iris camera constantly whirring as it updates his memory. He turns back towards his table, and almost has a breakdown, as he fails to recognize the species peering at him from across the table. He fears hostile contact, even as his memory goes into overdrive, hooking up to the database, struggling to find a name for the species. His memory flashes NO MATCH FOUND, and he contemplates the Unthinkable, teleporting. He pictures his sad self tangled in gazook (million to earthlings) litigations at home after the Unthinkable Act, teleporting in the presence of an alien species, in an alien environment. And just then, after mere seconds, contact is initiated.

“Hiya matey…ya look lonely… ya need ta get a drink”

Cloudy was puzzled. The species spoke like a human, though it (confusion regarding the sex of the hitherto unknown species, though sounds like a human male) looked nothing like one. He had a swollen hairless head, a green face and yellow and orange eyes.

“Ya cant sit in this pub witha one. Mr. Brown will have ma head fa that. I scare away too many customers anyhoo he says”

As it becomes apparent that the species is not hostile, Cloudy manages to utter “who are you?” in a grim kind of baritone.

“ya foren...ya sound funny…but that’s kay…ya can still get a drink….Petey at da bar undastands foren”.

“Who are you?” says Cloudy again, sounding more than just perplexed.

“Ma namez Chuck, all call ma Chuckle roun hiya”

“So you are from earth. You are human?”

“Like hell I am, only reason I cant marry Julia innit?”

“You are human…b..but you look so….different?”

“I do?? Hell maybe thatz why all treat ma diffen n call ma stoopi!”

“I have never encountered a human like you. You have the proportions, but your face and hands…”

“Now don’t ya go insuln matey…ma mama tole Im a pretty boy!”

“Does your mother also have a green face and scaly hands?”

“Green face…now ya insuln ma mama…ya skinkin pile a bat droppin…”

“But you do have a green face..Did your father have it then?”

“I have a green face ya say…do ya…ya…”

Cloudy has a small mirror materialize in one of his many pockets and hands it to Chuckle.

“Awwww…ya righ mate…I am green now..”

“Now? You were not always green then?”

“Naww…is all fake…make up...Browney ask ma to entertain visitas tonigh n stay outta staffs way…busy nigh n all....seems ta think im a waste a space n a walkin disasta…totally undaminez ma genioos...nuff talk tho matey…ya need ta get a drink”

“I do not drink”

“Ya must get awfully thirsty then mate”

“I do not drink alcohol”

“Like hell…even Julia has an occasional beer...whachoo doin in hiya then?”

Cloudy looks around again, this time for inspiration as he tries to think of something to brush away this bar employee, persistently trying to make him drink. Chuckle watches him all the time, as one would a highly entertaining tv program.

Then both are distracted by a sudden commotion at the doors.


The End

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