Kilroy Owns the Night: Day 21 (Panicked)
“Well,” I said. “Looks like we have ourselves a good ol’ fashioned mahogany standoff.”
“Don’t you mean Mexican standoff?” Max looked at me.
“I say what I mean and I mean what I say,” I said. “And I mean that.”
“C’mon, you two.” Mercury waved her blasters at the Herpezoids. “I have to bring you in alive or I don’t get paid.”
I pulled my Multiblaster. “Or I could just liquefy them right here because they want to eat me. Getting eaten by Herpezoids is a pet peeve of mine.”
“Hey, no liquefying!” Vrex pleaded and Gorpl tagged along.
“Yeah. No harm, no foul!” he said. “Let’s all just put the weapons away and discuss this over some N’jilliaran nector. Maybe some beignets, too.”
“Who are you?” Mercury asked Max.
“Tyran Gexm,” he replied.
“It’s an anagram for asshole,” I said. “Feel free to shoot him. He serves no purpose.”
“Not true,” he countered. “If you find the Encyclopedia, I’m the one who pays you.”
Capitalism had reared its ugly multi-snaked head once again. I knew if I tried to cut off one its snakes three more would grow in its place. Or some shit like that. I dunno. I tend to mix my metaphors when I’m panicked.
“So what now?” I asked the group.
“Everyone outside,” Mercury barked. “Slowly.”
We scooched out of The Tempting Fate and stood eyeing each other warily like Clint Eastwood and those dudes in the Spaghetti Westerns.
“Like I said,” I reminded them. “A mahogany standoff.”
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