(Untitled)

[maj_ferretface]

Frank Burns sits at the bar with a pen and a legal pad. He scribbles furiously, bent low over the pad of paper with his tongue between his teeth. From time to time, he looks up, shooting sneaky, suspicious looks at the patrons around him.

The comparison to a small predatory rodent has never been so apt.

Comments

[lt_naraht]

And the Gods of Narrative looked down upon the ferret-faced major and decreed that his mind must snap.

It is thus that we, the audience, now see a certain silicon-based lifeform heading by. The good major may note a certain resemblance to one of Corporal Klinger's costumes.

[maj_ferretface]

Oh, Frank sees it alright.

"Corporal Klinger--" he snaps, but then he stops.

"Klinger?"

[lt_naraht]

Naraht is pulled up short. He hasn't seen the rather amusing corporal in a while. In fact, he doesn't see him right now either.

After a moment of "looking" he turns toward the Major. "I don't see him around here. Perhaps you were mistaken."

[maj_ferretface]

"...This isn't funny, Klinger."

Despite his not-so-brave squeak, Frank pulls his feet up onto the stool, staring wide-eyed.

[lt_naraht]

The Horta waves his macro-cillia in confusion.

"I don't think we're talking about the same Klinger. Unless..."

A pregnant pause as Naraht reviews his conversation with the Section 8 obsessed man.

"...Oh, Mother bless...Don't tell me he actually did it."

[maj_ferretface]

The thing. It is like last time, but worse.

It is still talking to him.

Frank whimpers.

[lt_naraht]

Okay, the whimpering gets his attention.

"Before we go any farther, let me just say that I won't eat you. Even if I didn't have any morals about killing sentient beings who are not threatening myself or my friends, organic matter tastes terrible."

He sweeps his fringe in a bow-equivalent. "Lt. Dahai Iohor Naraht of the Federation starship Enterprise. And you are?"

[maj_ferretface]

A good, long pause.

Frank tries to salvage some dignity here.

"Major Frank Burns, 4077th M*A*S*H."

(It's not dignified. Not at all.)

[lt_naraht]

"An honor to meet you, sir," he says politely. "Yes, I believe that was Klinger's unit."

He chuckles...a bizzare mix of synthesized laughter, grinding stone and small gusts of vapor.

"Our meeting was most...interesting."

[maj_ferretface]

Frank twitches at the laugh.

He is not going to be a good conversational partner, Lieutenant.

"Oh?"

[lt_naraht]

Maybe not, but hope springs eternal in the Horta's heart.

"Yes! He simply could not comprehend that I'm not human."

I suppose it's a measure of cultural divides that Naraht doesn't realize the wide variety of interpretations that can be given to that simple statement.

[maj_ferretface]

There are many options that immediately spring to Frank's mind.

They are all bad.

He stares. He tries for speech but all that comes out is gibbering.

[lt_naraht]

Naraht doesn't specialize in First Contact, but he knows that gibbering is a Bad Sign.

"Ummmmm...perhaps we are having a failure to communicate?"

Damn it, he's used to stumbling across people like Ray Stantz here in Milliways!

[maj_ferretface]

Frank looks from the creature to his notepad.

Hand shaking, he starts to craft a new entry in his head without taking his eyes from the thing.

'Have encountered impossible creature. Possibly extraterrestrial or demonic.

Mommy.'

[lt_naraht]

There comes a time in the lives of Horta when you realize that you shouldn't push your luck.

This is one of those times.

Naraht waves a bit of fringe at Burns.

"Well, good luck finding Klinger. I think I'll just go get some of Bar's excellent graphite."

[maj_ferretface]

Frank makes a noise that sounds something like 'mrphlerjkfsud.' It could be interpreted as 'yes, fantastic, have a wonderful meal and it was an honor to meet you!' It could also be interpreted as 'begone with you, demonspawn!!!!'

It could go many ways, really.