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Synopsis[]

Transcript[]

As bars go, the "Shit-Rivet" tavern took the sleazy and redefined the word. A trio of Spurloopian strippers outnumbered the lone customer, but ground the pole on stage with real menace regardless. Behind the chrome topped bar hunched a moodier-than-a-mork beast, Jargel Floup gazed a dully at the tiny vid screen embedded in his left forearm.

An empty glass slid down the bar, and with honed reflexes unique to a veteran bartender, Floup caught it, filled it, and returned it with gusto without glancing up. It was the fifth pint of ale the human in the corner had swigged, but it was five times the business Floup had the previous night he wasn't complaining. After the spell, the melancholy was broken when the front doors creaked open.

Floup saw four figures in desert cloaks, dust masks fashioned across their faces, scanning the room from the doorway, their eyes settled on the human ale-swigger at the far end of the bar. They broke formation, two sat at tables either side of the door, one sat a ways from the ale-swigger, and the fourth approached the bar with all the cockiness of a Krellslucetor.

"Bar keep, one beverage, lady's choice." Said the burley interlope and nodding towards one of the Spurloopians who was taking a break from swinging her big ol' titties.

"Give him two fingers of fuck monster Floup." She slurred.

Floup grinned and poured the black liquor into the traditional phallic drinking vessel and gently pushed it towards the man. Leaning in close the, the stranger peeled back his face mask revealing row after row of razor sharp off-world combat teeth. He had no way of knowing Floup was a odontophobic so it really was just one of those weird coincidences typical of a space saloon.

"Put the choppers away mister, can't you see my friend here is odontophobic?" Said the ale-swigger from the corner. Floup looked stunned, how could this guy have known about his odontophobia? Unless... "Bodega..." said the tooth guy, grimacing.

"It is you Bodega!" said Floup, turning, he had not recognized his old compadre, and cursed himself for it. Bodega always had money, and he could have charged 5 skrells for the ales instead of 3, then it dawned on Floup. If Bodega was here, and these four guys were here, then it could only mean one thing, there was about to be one flarve of a good fight.

"You're coming with us Bodega like it or not!" Said Chompers, smiling to show off his fancy nashers. Floup blinked hard, and when he opened up his eyes less than a second later, the four interlopers laid dead, and Bodega sat finishing the last of his ale, his famous Lazgun lay smoking atop the chrome bar.

"Great moons of Shaboth you ain't lost your touch boy!" Exclaimed Floup, "And you're still slower than a glorbwrom with the ales." Said Bodega, grinning.

He played the fight back in his mind, he'd seen the four fellows follow him of course and had calibrated his Lazgun to instantly pierce their Shrovian armour. Just as Chompers had turned to grin at Bodega, he had taken his shot, refracting the Lazgun beam off those shiny dentures to perfectly strike all three goon bars right in the heart, killing them instantly. Then to finish off the leader he simply angled the Lazgun up on the third in size in row five, lower, and turned the leader's brain into Vomainian swamp noodle soup.

"Bodega." Said Floup, grinning, "Yep." said Bodega, also grinning, but laconically. "Bo-de-ga." Said Floup, still grinning and nodding. "Uh-huh" said Bodega. "BO-DE-GA."Said Floup, still grinning. "Ok this is getting weird." Said Bodega, and he paid and left.

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