A Tale of Two Strangers Shrugging
Excerpt One

Once upon a time there was an alien named Riley Vaentine Galt. Who is Riley Galt? Call me Galt -- Riley Galt, just don't call me late for dinner. Sorry, but when an entity floats around in space for several eons the witticisms get more rancid than the food, which is probably the only funny thing out here

I wasn't laughing, though. You see, food is my favourite dish. I've alway been a hungry alien and ever since I was jettisoned into this program I've eaten my dehydrated space goop with a fork. It's against regulations to eat with a fork, but my lips are as chapped as a cowboy's thighs from sucking on the nutrient pouches.

In fact it was my talent with the gobbling irons that landed me my current assignment. I was caught lounging in the mess hall with a forkful of space goop and mouth full of attitude when the call came up for volunteers. That fork poised in mid-scoop was mistaken for a loud "pick me!" I was deployed faster than a ten-ton Peterbilt screaming down a seven-percent grade.

Par for the course, the orders were vague and trite: to seek out and find the proverbial brave new world. Ha! Who were those three-fingered guys kidding? Sure, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was a dark and stormy night, it was a sunny and still day. All of the above, none of the above, I didn't care, I didn't know. I wasn't sure anymore. I wasn't sure of anything except the murky image of my feet propped on the console of my space capsule.

copyright 1993