Sheikh Mohamae-Al-Lejeun lit a cigarette as he looked out the tent at the desert
that stretched before him. He breathed in the salt air and watched a flock of seagulls attacking a baby seal. His
faithful servant, Sir Rawley Whippersnatch IV, brought him his afternoon tea.
“Well, Rawley,” said the Sheikh, “it does not seem if this war is going well.”
“I know,” said Rawley. “We may need a few guns or something. Bamboo sticks do
not seem to work that well.”
The Sheikh nodded his head. For 275 years, they had been fighting the Neb-raskans
for this stretch of desert. The Neb-raskans, armed with sporks, had constantly defeated the Sheikh’s troops. No
blood had been shed, but the Neb-raskans had a knack of boring the troops to sleep with their incessant nonsensical
talking. While the Sheikh’s troops slept, the Neb-raskans would steal their bamboo sticks in order to build an
auditorium.
“We need someone who can lead the troops into battle, without the fear of the
troops falling asleep,” said the Sheikh.
“Exactly,” said Rawley. “But who?”
Cascadilla carried Perkchip to the convenience store. As she approached the store,
she noticed that there was a massive pile of bamboo sticks surrounding the store.
When she entered the store, she noticed that everything was red. A man behind
the counter, dressed in red, stood as she walked in.
Cascadilla went to the nearest cooler and picked out a bottle of water.
The man watched her with his one good eye as he spit tobacco on the floor.
Cascadilla walked to the counter and placed the bottle on it and opened her purse.
The man hitched up his overalls and went to the register, his grimy bare feet leaving tracks in the puddles of
snot and tobacco. He picked up the bottle and stared at it intently. A thin stream of snot leaked from his nose
and dripped into his open mouth.
“Uhhh, where you get this?” he finally asked.
“The cooler,” replied Cascadilla.
The man scratched his head.
Cascadilla pulled a 5 dollar bill from her purse.
The man placed the bottle on the counter and pressed a button on the register.
He stared at the register for a minute, then looked at Cascadilla. “You know how
much that is?” he asked as he pointed a muddy finger at the bottle.
“No,” replied Cascadilla.
The man scratched his armpit. He then insertered a finger into his nose and pulled
out a huge wad of snot. He looked at it and then placed it gingerly in his mouth. After chewing it for a bit, he
looked at Cascadilla. “I like Neb-raskan cuisine,” he said.
Cascadilla felt a sour taste rising in her throat. “Please sir”, she managed to
say, “ I would just like to have this water.”
The man finished chewing and swallowed. “Uh, okay, uh how ‘bout, uh about 55 cents?”
“Fine,” said Cascadilla and handed him the 5 dollar bill.
The man looked at the bill. “What am I supposed to do with this?
“Just keep it,” said Cascadilla and she grabbed the bottle. As she turned to leave,
she realized that she had just dealt with the lowest life form on earth, the common Neb-raskan.
She shuddered in horror, picked up Perkchip and left the store.
