From: noahidebooksforever@gmail.com   
      
   Bluddhook   
   1   
   'Arcturus. She's a beautiful sun, isn't she,' said Dak Bluddhook.   
   'She certainly shines brightly,' replied Jan Kolby, the illustrious Rimwalker.   
   'In our primary religion Arcturus is the gateway for the soul,' said Dak.   
   'Fascinating. Baptism by fire, is it?'   
   'Oh, there is a lot of things it represents. Our culture is ancient on it,'   
   replied Dak.   
   Jan, Chance and Dak were on Arcturia, the planetary body which had life, which   
   circled around the sun Arcturus.   
   'Leatherhead over there,' said Jan. 'Segment head. Like folds of skin all over   
   his head. The paleface with a tinge of reddy grey I guess. He's another native   
   Arcturian isn't he?'   
   'We have a number of intelligent races on our planet,' replied Chance.   
   'Arcturus is a truly multicultural planet.'   
   'We have a lot of legendary doctrine on Arcturus in humanity also,' said   
   Chance. 'What's weird, is that it is accurate.'   
   'That's no surprise,' said Chance, looking at Dak.   
   'That's life buddy,' said Dak.   
   'Yeh. That's life,' Jan said suspiciously. 'Well, are we going to this dive or   
   not?'   
   'It's just around the corner,' said Dak. 'We'll be there shortly.'   
   They continued driving, in a corner of Arcturus Jan had never been to, and   
   soon they got to the eating establishment.   
   'The meat is similar to bacon,' said Dak. 'It's from an animal which is native   
   to this region, and they cook it the best.'   
   'Good to know,' replied Jan.   
   'You'll probably fart a lot, though, afterwards,' said Chance. 'Human's   
   usually do.'   
   'Wonderful,' replied Jan dryly. 'Any other surprises?'   
   'You might have severe acne for the following weeks,' said Dak.   
   Jan glared at Dak.   
   'Only kidding, buddy,' grinned Dak Bluddhook.   
   'Bastard,' swore Jan under his breath, as they entered the restaurant, and   
   continued on with the holiday on Arcturus they had planned for quite a while.   
   'You know,' said Dak. 'I've got to admit something. It's been interesting   
   being friends with Jan Kolby. He's not such a bad guy when you get to know   
   him.'   
   'He's a rogue,' said Chance.   
   'Yes, your imperial majesty,' sad Jan to Chance.   
   'We've been buddies these many millions of years now, and the world has turned   
   around a few times from what I've seen, but you've been loyal. And you're only   
   human,' said Dak.   
   Jan nodded. 'How's business, then? Still with the guild of piracy?'   
   'Very funny,' replied Dak. 'The survivors from that organisation became legit   
   a long time ago. Not much crime in these heavenly worlds. Very little, really.   
   Reputations, things like that, all that seems to matter.'   
   'Yep. What we were supposed to learn in life in the real world,' replied Jan.   
   'We were supposed to learn that?' asked Chance. 'Gosh, I missed every   
   opportunity,' she said sarcastically, which brought a grin from the other two.   
   'Anyway, let's eat,' said Chance. And they ordered their bacon equivalent   
   meal, known as Sard, and Jan    
   admitted it tasted like bacon, but the tinge of purple in the meat was weird   
   to say the least.   
      
   2   
   The Golden Grillplate?' queried Dak.  'You want me to steal the frikking   
   Golden Grillplate?'   
   'It is – esteemed,' replied the leatherhead.  'It was established long ago   
   by the Lord Boodavegger that in partaking of our food, we must follow correct   
   and proper eating ritual.  There was established the Holy Temple of Culinary   
   Delight, not far to    
   the south from here, and while it lay in ruins for centuries, through neglect   
   and persecution of our people in the race wars, we have re-established much of   
   it now, and are in the process of tracking down ancient relics still rumoured   
   to exist which were    
   part of the original Temple.  We are moral in our claim, and fair.  This is   
   not theft.  This is reasonable and fair reacquirement,' stated the leatherhead.   
   'Stone of Destiny reclaiming, huh?' queried Dak, lighting a ciggie.   
   The leatherhead looked at him, puzzled for a moment, then replied, 'Oh.    
   Scottish thing on Earth.  Human culture legend.  I recall vaguely the details   
   of the thing.  Yes, something similar to that.  I insist Dak, we have moral   
   claims and fair claims on    
   the item, and the heart of our society is with us.  Those who now own the   
   Golden Grillplate only keep it privately for the most part.  It is known who   
   owns it, but they are far from bold in being public in their display of the   
   item.  We have fair and    
   reasonable rights of redemption in our service to the One, and if it must be   
   stolen, we are reasonable in doing as such.  Legally, it could be   
   complicated.  Society will honour possession as nine tenths of the law if we   
   can claim it back.'   
   'The Fee – is 3.5 million Galagas,' said Dak, confidently.   
   The alien glared at him, sighed, and nodded.  'Fine.  It is high, but worth   
   it.  We will pay you 100,000 galagas as a down payment and to cover expenses,   
   and the rest you will have on the items return to us.'   
   'You have a deal,' said Dak, and spat in his hand and offered it to the fellow   
   Arcturian.   
   'Charming,' replied the leatherhead, shaking the spittle covered palm.  He   
   wiped his hand then on his cloak, and looked squarely at Dak.  'Don't bring   
   trouble on us with any crude reclamation tactics.  Keep it civilized.  Be   
   decent about this theft.     
   They will have no legal recourse then.'   
   'Fine,' said Dak.  'Will do buddy.'   
   Dak received the money into his bank account that afternoon, spent some on a   
   fine night with fair Arcturian maidens he knew well, and spent the following   
   morning drawing up plans.  Back in business again. Some things never really   
   changed that much.   
      
   The End   
       
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)