(#00009)
Hwell Barrow, bored and forbidden from talking to anyone outside of the hostel in person, was channel surfing the local entertainment feeds. At least Ax'and'l had forgotten about requesting an absence of mini-bar, thus lending an element of entertainment to his otherwise dull evening.
That green stuff. It really packed a whallop.
He didn’t understand a word they were saying. But that didn’t stop him making up stories as he watched. Two green things with violently vibrant plumage were whistling the advantages of something colorful and apparently bendy.
Maybe it was a cooking apparatus? The stuff they were smearing on it looked kinda yummy….
Mmmm… cheese waffles…
After twenty minutes, the violently vibrant hosts still hadn’t shut up about it, leaving Hwell plenty of time to divine which series of symbols was the comms number, and then how to call them up on their awkward comms system.
It took him three goes to get someone who spoke Standard.
“Them things they’re hootin’ ‘bout onna screen. I wanna buttload of 'em. How much izzit?”
*
Ax'and'l glared at the grinning human. The redness in the mammal’s face was a display of mortification. Reflex.
“What. The. Flakk.” He sighed again at the pile of packaging. “I made sure you were locked in the hostel room. How did you get into this much debt?”
Hwell winced. Evidently, things were too loud. “I was… watchin’ th’ local feeds? An’ then I found the green stuff… An’ after that it’s all a blur…”
Ax'and'l felt some of Hwell’s hangover by osmosis. “Do you even know what you bought?”
“Uh. Cheese waffle makers?”
Ax'and'l felt his own reflex mortification reaction rising against his will. “They’re not for preparing food,” he said. “They’re… sex… aids…”
“They don’t have to always be that… do they?” whimpered Hwell.