Sunday Short Story
It could have been any planet but here they were, back on earth, with a spaceship in need of a good old refurb. Captain Zog left his hard working and loyal crew to work their arses off whilst he wandered into the nearest lit up place to find a drinking establishment. Every town had one be it on the edges of the furthest galaxy or here in a place called Upton.
Zog wandered up to the well lit pub entrance and nodded politely at a few fellows appearing to have fire in their mouths. Opening the Cross Keys doors as though entering the bar in a wild western film, Zog makes his way to the bar and orders himself a pint.
Steve, the landlord, looks Zog up and down and immediately recognises the type of alien he is dealing with.
‘I’m sorry,’ Steve says, ‘but we don’t serve aliens in here.’
Zog catches the raised eye of a fellow potential drinker and raises an alien eyebrow in a ‘we will see about that’ way.
‘What about if I bought drinks for everyone stood at the bar?’ Zog asks to a now keenly watching audience.
‘I’m afraid not,’ says Steve pointing to a sign behind the bar that clearly rules out serving aliens.
‘What about,’ asks Zog with a grin now written behind his ears, ‘if I buy drinks for everyone in the bar all night?’
Total silence greets this question apart from the sound of old Gerald who has just fainted at the end of the bar. Steve, all eyes glued on him, caves in.
‘Oh alright,’ he says, ‘money signs running through his mind quicker than Red Rum on speed.
The night passes into folklore as every man, woman and child arrives in Upton looking to milk the aliens clearly deep pockets. Drink is consumed at rates unheard of and soon enough the landlord calls a reluctant time and one by one his customers leave, each giving Zog a hug on the way out. He promises each one that he’ll flash his spacecraft lights at them from outer space. Every one believes him.
At last Steve and Zog are left alone, Steve totting up the bar bill and Zog wondering why the room is spinning around quicker than a satellite screeching around earth. Steve arrives at the drunken Captains side with a sheet of paper.
‘That’ll be sixteen thousand, five hundred and eighty five pounds and sixty eight pence please!’ declares Steve, the thought of a trip to his tailors dancing on his happy mind.
Zog puts his hand in his pocket whilst locking his new bar owning friend in a happy smiling gaze.
‘Thankyou SO much for truly giving me one of the best nights of my entire life!’ Zog declares, happiness exuding from every one of his green oozing pores.
‘You’re very welcome my friend,’ says Steve before adding, ‘and my cash?’
‘Ah yes, replies Zog, ‘have you got change for a zonk? …
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