-SALOON AT THE EDGED OF EVERYWHERE-
Chapter Three
Nothing much else happened for five years, at least in so far as alien visitations were concerned. The people of Earth had just began to stop asking each other questions like, “Hey, what was that all about?”, and “What was the deal with that Flying Pickle?”. And that was when, in the year 2020, the Bats showed up. Well, some people called them Bats, and some called them Trexes, which was supposed to be short for T-Rexes, though it was really more of a question of removing the hyphen and pronouncing it as one word.
The Bats, or Trexes, who really did look like a cross between a bat and a very short Tyrannosaurus Rex with shiny black scales, were known to themselves as the Tribes of Taaleem. They arrived on earth not because of any contact with the Flying Pickle, but more due to what amounted to a cosmic wrong turn. Not to put too fine of a point on it, but they were, frankly, lost.
Stumbling upon your planet, the Bats decided that France must indeed contain the most advanced of the people of Earth. Naturally the French were delighted because this was the conclusion that they had reached for themselves, but it turned out to be more due to the coincidental resemblance of the EifelTower to a standard Bat ship-docking tower. The French, on learning this fact, refused to be dismayed. Obviously, Monsieur Eifel’s design was yet more proof of French superiority as well as farsightedness, which all sounded even more impressive when spoken in French.
For this visitation, things ran much more in accord with the predictions of the science fiction community. It helped that the new visitors arrived in an easily recognizable space craft rather than as one space-traveling individual. Indeed, things could not have run more smoothly if the whole event had been planned by diplomats and travel agents who specialized in small group tours.
The ship, which was in fact a Royal party barge, and measured only 170 feet in boxy length, popped through the atmosphere and was hovering beside the rail of the center viewing platform of the tower before anyone had time to panic. There was also no time and no seeming need to bring in the military, and when the hatch irised open and the aliens scrambled out, the one security agent in the forefront of the milling crowd of awestruck tourists did not even draw his weapon.
The new visitors were all of two feet tall. They scurried about like chickens, and were only a little more frightening. They also smiled and waved and made little ‘wait a minute’ gestures while two of them tugged and pulled at a small box. At last one of the little beings managed to wrench the box from the grasp of the other, and he held it to his chest. He began to make chittering, ratcheting sounds.
The box, which was actually a translator unit not designed by the Bats themselves, now boomed out the following comment;
“From our monitoring of your broadcasts, we have determined that this is the dominant language of your planet”.
This comment was spoken in English, a blow to French pride which echoes to this day as English is well on its way to becoming the intergalactic official language.
“Can you understand me?” the little alien asked through the box.
The French policeman sighed and admitted he could.
“I am Vinn Vexx var Voxx, first minister to his Highness, Prince Viin Veen var Taxx.” Here the little creature paused to indicate one of the reptilian beings who was much plumper than the rest of them. He finished with this classic line; “We come in peace.”
I told you that this time things went much more according to script.
The two groups stood facing each other, neither quite sure of how to proceed, and the whole matter was taken out of their hands when a four year old Australian girl on vacation broke from the human ranks and ran straight up to the pudgy Prince from outer space and grabbed him in a huge bear hug.
“Oh, Mummy,” she cried with delight, “isn’t he sweet? I want one of these.”
The Prince, whose feet were now dangling off the ground as the much taller human child gripped him, stiffened for a brief moment as he considered that perhaps his dignity might be suffering just slightly. But the warmth and smell of the young girl were simply wonderful. What might have been a diplomatic disaster turned into an ice-breaking moment as aliens and humans let out a collective ‘awwwww’. The Prince gave in to being treated like a stuffed teddy bear and found that he quite enjoyed it. In all of mankind’s history, perhaps our most effective diplomat turned out to be a small child named Katie.
That was the beginning of the love affair between Earth and just about everyone and everything else in the universe. Paris loved the Bats, and the Bats loved Paris. The world loved the Bats, and the Bats loved the world.
By the time the French President and a small selection of ministers arrived at the tower, nineteen of the twenty Bats from the ship were being shown the sights of Paris spread out below them, and sampling French delicacies as they picked up language lessons from excited tourists in at least eight different Earth tongues. The Prince was comfortably settled in Katie’s lap as she sat on a bench cuddling him and feeding him small bits of chocolate and banana crepes.
Proper diplomatic introductions were initiated and it did not take long for the French to discover that the Bats were even fonder of pompous titles and ponderous diplomacy than were the French themselves. In the end the French were forced to admit that the Bats could out-snooty even them.
The French were very impressed by the fact that a member of a royal family had chosen, or not chosen exactly, to visit their capitol city. This was before anyone on earth had learned that fully 98 percent of the Bat race was a member of one royal family or another. The odds of meeting a Bat who was an actual commoner were really rather slim.
So the Bats and the French, both of whom delighted in titles and feeling slightly superior to everyone else, got along famously. But it was mankind’s fantastic creativity that enthralled the visitors more than anything else. As the French government took over the task of escorting their new friends about Paris, the Bats became more and more excited. Each new revelation was more incredible than the last. For example, alcohol had been made by virtually every race, and was common as a fuel or cleaning solution, but surely humans were the first ever to actually consider drinking it. And as for prostitution, well, that was simply brilliant. The humans just had a knack for getting the most out of common everyday materials.
And word of this surprising new race spread rapidly out amongst the stars.
Pouring My Art Out 
I have nothing to criticise at all. This chapter was great. I also thought it flowed better than the previous two.
I just keep getting better.
alcohol and prostitution; bringing the universe together one vice at a time – saloon reading tonight; it’s really good stuff; it flows very well, and of course makes me laugh 🙂
I am as happy as a little Hand-Helper…
and they are so sweet when they bound around in their little happy way
No one can make themselves happier than a being with four hands… just sayin’…
just imaginin’….
Ha!
Funny!
Thank you!
BATS!
Oh, we got bats… and they will keep coming back. In unexpected ways…
Chapter 3, done. I can’t say “What Hotspur said.” this time though because I see you have already posted Chapter 4 so I already have something more to read tomorrow. Yeah! This time I’ll say, what Jessica said! “Loving it so far. Keep it up!” And I’m starting to see how this would play out wonderfully on the big screen if it were done correctly…like what I’m imagining. But no screen play writing…they need to use things exactly from the book.
I like the way you think.
Laughing. It’s such a fun, backhanded way of mockery, and I’m finding myself reading quite carefully. My great great great grandfather was french. His last name was Croissant. Need I say he was a baker? Apparently I smell like snoot right now because this comment is all about me. But but but I’m part bat…er, French. I simply cannot help being commended.
In my natural sense of fairplay and even-handedness, I end up making fun of everybody. But the French were asking for it.
And now YOU are asking for it…
But at least I ask politely… I was raised well.
Raised by aliens or politicians?
Adoptive human units, Bay Area style.
More.
Suddenly you are a man of few words… but at least that is a good one.
Even more!
Double word score.
H.H. I can see the translation of poking at the human race (expecally the French but they are easy targets). I’m liking the book and with the explanation I am even more intrigued.
Your comments weren’t a problem, some took it way to far but that’s water under the bridge now. She is extremely smart & funny (rare for most women)…well um…ok, people.
Looking forward to the next chapter.
I may take a day off and post something else. Some people want more and some less. I try to keep everybody happy… within reason.
Not a fan of the genre that I am I don’t believe I have ever been able to finish anything fiction. I must say I started reading it because I like you but I’m still here because you’ve caught my interest with your writing. We will see how it goes.
The thing is, this is only sci fi because I threw in aliens. And I threw in aliens because I wanted to examine and poke fun at all the things humans do, the things we take so seriously just because that is the way the people around us did things where and when we were born. If we had been born in another time or place, we would take that reality just as seriously. I find this amusing. We act like what we know must be right. But people used to be just as sure that the world was flat and the center of the universe.
It is also about the humor. A chance to tell jokes and stories and make observations from a slightly new point of view.
And the adventure. I throw in a lot of action. I wrote it at a fast pace that would translate well to the big screen.
And last but not least, the world needs a hero who is a little bit old, a lot sarcastic, and has absolutely no intrest in being a hero. I can’t think of anyone like that, not in an adventure story.
Oh, and I like you too. I like your wife. I can see, how taken out of context, some of my early comment conversations with her might be taken as flirting. But she was like the second person to show enough intrest in my blog to go back and read the whole thing.And her comments were funny and deep. I was hot for her mind, her opinion, if you see what I am saying.
Oh, did I just send that last comment to you and not H.H.?
And why can’t I go to the blogs I follow in my reader all of a sudden…?
no, that was him. This is me. Thanks for saying that stuff about me though.
I never say anything I don’t mean… except when I tease you…
H.H. It’s ok just letting you know I’m still with you.
I am thrilled to have you here. I need the input of someone who is not a fan of the genre… did I spell genre right? A writer who can’t spell… story of my life.
H.H. I’m ready for #4
You guys are fast. I don’t want to post so fast that I leave people behind, but not so slowly that people get bored and wander off… like a Giant Flying Pickle…
My favorite chapter so far.
Why does everyone love to tease the French?
Loving it so far! Keep it up!
You have no idea what that means to me, kid. I have been wanting you to read this since I started writing it. I changed the name a little, but your character is awesome.