Well, here ya go, I won’t give a long intro cause I’m sure you’ve been waiting long enough, so here’s chapter 12, a chapter I call, “2 sligs and a vykker”.
Micadil paced in front of the 6 sligs, the female, the queen of the species, the male who seemed to think very highly of himself, and the 4 bodyguards. More pants? He thought that was what they wanted, the woman’s bazaar accent made it difficult to tell. But he decided to humour them.
“And what do you offer in return?”
“Theesse.”
At that point one more guard emerged from the door, carrying a slog on a leash. To the vykker, who craved experimentation and had never even heard of slogs, was amazed and exited. So these sligs weren’t useless after all.
“OK.” He agreed, “one of those for each pair of pants we make. 2 for custom pares like Mica’s, the others will come in sizes, if you’ll allow us to make a few tests.”
And so the deal was made. Slogs for pants, pants for dosh (the current local currency of Sligos), and soon most of the sligs would have legs, and the sligs royal family would be considerably richer.
Sligs could make slogs faster than vykkers could produce pants, and vykkers knew 1 slog was really worth 4 pairs of pants. Both groups left the hall, thinking about how bigger suckers the other group was!
“Muds, Muds, when is Danlirc gonna get over his obsession with Muds?”
Malk didn’t reply. He knew what Hanarn was like, if there was a reason to complain he would find it. But for once, Malk agreed with him. So the Muds owned land 6 times bigger than Glucose, and who cared if there limbs were positioned so they didn't have to walk on there hands, they had been working fine inside there concrete walls for years. But now they needed at least 12 glukkons patrolling the walls neighbouring Mudos at all times, to kill off all the Mud’s that got to close. Typical that he’d get stuck in the same squadron as Hanarn.
“I mean, if we’re gonna invade, why not go and do it? Why do we have to get stuck here waiting?” That was Hanarn again.
This time, Malk answered. “Because they haven’t come up with a way for us to use weapons while moving. Now shut up or I’ll ram this gun so far down your pie hole that you’ll be able to have a go with Maria (the current Glukkon queen).
“Ooh, I’m so scared,” muttered Hanarn and took a random shot in to the night, somehow hitting a roaming scrab. The rest of the herd turned to charge the wall.
“Wow, that was clever,” muttered Malk, and got ready with his gun.
On the other side of the wall a Glukkon looked intently in to Sligos. “Stir up with the sligs.”
“What’s your point?” Muttered his partner.
“Nothing, just…”
“Just what?”
“Well look, in the middle of the night they’re all creeping off with sleeping bags, about a years worth of food, their pets, and a torch each.”
“And this matters to us because? Keep your mind on your work or they’ll shove a bullet up where the sun doesn’t shine.”
“Hey, you 2,” Shouted the supervisor, “keep your minds on your work of I’ll shove a bullet up where the sun doesn’t shine.”
“See?”
Where does the sun not shine? Where are the sligs going? Who really is the sucker? Find out the answer to about 1 of those questions in our next chapter, chapter 13!
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