Family Vacation

Opening the coarse, dark green tent flap revealed a wall made out of strings covered in beads. Except something seemed strange. The beads were actually tiny, round, glass containers filled with different colors of liquid. Some of which had tiny fish swimming around in them. Greg raised one eyebrow, it seemed quite strange to him the need to have another barrier to the tent. He slowly parted the glass globes and moved forward, careful where he stepped and took a look around. On the outside, the tent seemed small compared to the massive stands outside selling strange foods and clothing. The smells of the spiced meats and cured leathers combined to create a thick atmosphere throughout. It didn’t help that every other person was smoking some purple substance that Greg had never seen before. 

Somehow, the tent hid the outside smells and replaced them with a light floral, smokey air. Inside the tent, the main focus was a table with a glass ball on top and two chairs opposite one another. The rest of the tent felt like someone had tried to cram as many strange, unrelated things together as possible. Preserved alien hands were next to a large gong, which was below a painting depicting a thin man dying while the sun rose in the background.

As Greg studied the painting a woman entered the tent. She had gray skin, four thin arms, and was wearing a dark red flowing dress. Tattoos across her arms and chest made her seem to blend in with the strange background. She sat and spoke. “Hello,” Greg jumped, “I’m sorry to scare you, are you here to learn of your future, present, past, or a truth beyond all?” As she spoke her arms gestured dramatically about.

Greg reached for his head and pretended to scratch. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. I had some extra time and to help my nerves I thought I’d pop in.”

The fortune-teller frowned, nodded, and looked down deep into the glass ball on the table.

“I see. Your name is Greg.” Nod. “You are new here and have an important task.” Nod. “Let me see, closer.”

Greg scooches his chair closer making a screeching sound on the ground.

“No, not you!” She snaps then picks up the glass globe and puts it in front of her face. “You are a blob man?” 

“How could you tell?” he asks, smiling, his man-like form a dark shade of green.

“Shuush! You came a long way. For something. To get something… to get someone? Your daughter? They have your daughter and you have come to trade.”

Greg stands, the chair falling backward. “How?”

She puts a finger to her lips, “SHUSH child. The fight, it happens soon, they want what you stole. But they do not receive it.”

Greg asks, “My daughter, what happens to my daughter?” 

“Your daughter survives… but I can’t see your fate, it is… strange.”

Greg deflates a little, “That doesn’t matter, as long as she makes it out safe. You are incredible, Miss?”

“Three things,” She holds up three fingers on her top right hand, “One, you owe me for my gong they destroy, vandals, I didn’t lead them here so that’s not on me. Two, it’s Mrs. Viskona and a pleasure to meet you. Three, they had planned on coming early to ambush you.”

“Oh gee willikers!” Greg seemed to consider this for a moment. “Well, that’s not good.”

“Here we go.” Mrs. Viskona said. 

A ripping of canvas and a glint of silver followed. Greg smiled, “You guys are still using swords? Seems a little dull to me.”

At this, the tent rips apart from both sides and the front flap gets opened gingerly by who Greg assumes is the leader.

“Could you please knock first?” Mrs. Viskona asks.

The alien is taller than most, but around the same height as Greg. He has gray skin that glistens blue as if he has a visible aura around his body, two arms, two legs, and one usable eye, the other an empty socket. The smell of this man is like the smells outside the tent amplified to the nth degree.

He says, “As you can see, we have you surrounded Greg.”

“You’re early, where’s my daughter?”

“She’s safe… did you get the thing?” He winks.

Greg pulls a box out of his stomach area and holds it out. His jelly-like form kept it in status and concealed. He opens the box, enough time to reveal the contents, then snaps it shut again. “My daughter!” he says. 

The alien smiles big, revealing a mangle of teeth, some of them gold. “We’ve got her tied up in a barrel by the stand selling deep-fried humans but you’ll never see her again.” The alien pulls a pistol from his side and shoots Greg right through the head.”

Mrs. Viskona screams out, “No! Why would you do this?”

Greg sways on the spot about to fall as the alien laughs. “I’ll be taking that.” He says and reaches his hand to the blob’s middle where the box was. As his hands enter the green jelly he begins to scream. That’s when everything happened at once.

Mrs. Viskona is holding the large gong which seems to have a hole in the middle of it. Noises coming from outside the tent, of yelling and shooting, seem to grow nearer. The alien pulls his hand out of Greg’s stomach, his hand is now a green color and seems to be missing the outer layers of skin. Greg steadies himself and the hole in his head reforms. 

“You don’t know much about my species do you, sir?” Greg asks, “Because we can’t be tied up or shot and my daughter loves deep-fried humans. They aren't good for her and she knows this. She kidnaped herself didn’t she?”

The shooting is now getting closer with shouts of “We know you’re in there Glorbax!” Greg notices that the aliens' eyes shift every time the name is mentioned. 

“Shucks, it seems like you have someone else to deal with,” Greg says.

Glorbax pauses for a moment then turns to his left and right and says, “You know what we have to do, lads. CHARGE!” 

Greg takes a step backward away from Glorbax. It seemed Glorbax and his crew went toward the shooting noises with a cacophony of yelling. The shooting mixed with the sounds of metal clanging. Over the noise outside, Greg hears Glorbax yell, “You’re next Greg! Don’t go far!”

Greg looks over at Mrs. Viskona who was frowning with all four hands on her hips. “Who’s going to pay for all this damage?”

“I’m so sorry for the mess,” Greg said, “Unfortunately, I don’t have any money, but you can have this.” He pulls the box out of his acidic stomach and opens it for her to see. “It seems they are a little tied up at the moment.”

The glow coming from the box lights up her face for a moment before she snaps it shut. She shrugs, “That’ll do. By the way, you were right, your daughter is at the deep-fried human stand as we speak.”

“How do you know that?” Greg asks.

“I’m a fortune-teller honey, and that’s a freebie.”

Greg nods and leaves the tent. He makes his way over to the stand and finds Gloria with her back to him eating. He creeps up behind her, then yells, “What are you doing!”

She jumps, her form momentarily changing to a simple blob then back to the shape of a 5’5” girl with pigtails and a dress, all the same green as her father. “Dad, you scared me! Don’t do that!”

“You scared me! I thought you got abducted by some crazies that were going to eat you.”

“Daaad, I’m fine. Those guys just offered me some food to hang out here for a while. Where’ve you been?”

“Never mind where I’ve been, have you been eating this trash? You’re going to spoil your dinner.”

She ignores his comment and begins walking back through the market, but he stops her. “What?” she asks.

He looks the way she was heading, towards the fortune teller's tent and the commotion. “We’re going to want to give that a wide berth.” He steers her around the market in a wide arc avoiding the conflict, and getting out safely.