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You venerate purity for its own sake, a most pointless exercise. Pure Iron is brittle, corrodes and shatters easily. Pure copper or tin do not have the strength of bronze. Alloys are Stronger

There was a civilisation on Tsarkis. If one could call it that. In the Galactic Alliance’s opinion, it barely passed the bar.

For a start, there was a very rigid caste system. Enforced by the military caste and massive walls that divided district from district. Few, if any, were allowed any kind of social or geographic mobility.

And as for the ruling caste…

Inbreeding had done its work. There were family lines distinguishable by their noses or foreheads or chins. They were all pale and frail albinos. Physically weak, twisted things.

All except for the ruling family of one island-continent in the tropics. There, the hostile life that bred there had lead to a high mortality rate, even amongst the high-born.

Therefore, every fifty years, they had a true Cinderella Ball. Anyone who was unmarried, with the means to arrive in a certain city by a certain date, had the chance to meet and mingle with the crown heir.

It was unorthodox, and frowned upon by the twisted and grotesque examples in the other city-states. And every kind of broken taboo.

And yet, that island-continent was the strongest of all the disparate nations extant on Tsarkis… and the other royalties continually borrowed from their line.

Of course, the instant that the Galactic Alliance set up a trading post on that planet, the potential for chaos increased exponentially with every passing day. Which was just how the Alliance liked it.

[Muse food remaining: 21. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]

A human opens a Beauty Salon for Reptilian Customers, it occurs to me that its Male reptiles who often try to attract mates.

[AN: Thanks to Tumblr’s habit of dropping links when I copy/paste, I have a new “streamlined” and “easier” procedure in which I have the HTML of my tagline info in a separate file and, after I’m done doing the story, I swap to HTML and copy/paste that sucker in.

“When in trouble, when in doubt. Run in circles, scream and shout!” Have fun with this!

These were the most bizarre aliens she had ever seen. Their emergency klaxon was a twinkly little tune suitable for Play School or Sesame Street[1] replete with singing. The jolly lady’s voice instructed the entire crew on how to panic in the same tone of friendly warning that other PSA’s would tell children where and how to cross the

“And here we have- please put the new ambassador down.”
“But (s)he’s so cute and cuddle able!”

Ha’ri still didn’t understand how she became an ambassador to her people. She was just one of the many, many asteroid-chasers trying to make enough money to pay for more than her ship and its fuel. Especially damages.

Then a ship belonging to the strange, balding apes had come out of nowhere and she made the mistake

On the one hand, that is a legitimate problem.
On the other, I’m not sure I could come up with a worse solution to that problem, even if you gave me a research grant and several years.

South-Southwest Greater Deregulation.

The problem element milled around, five yards away from the electrified wiring. Just a few inches short of the raised wire that denoted the area where the guards in the tower would shoot.

They all stared at Monica in desperate hope.

“It’s like a madhouse, designed by a succession of madmen, each with a deep hatred of their predecessors brand of madness. And it’s on fire.”

[AN: Never in my life have I been prompted to reply with a screenshot of Google asking “Did you mean ‘the Australian Government’?” But no. I am a writer. I make stories.]

Tradition is a very peculiar thing. Things begin with reason and rationality and end in farcical imitation, hundreds or thousands of