Skip found out, before the sun set, that the gray-haired woman's name was Gretchet.

     "Just got off a convoy from Nylar 7!" she bellowed. "Eight months with only six other ugly faces to look at! I need a drink!"

​     Skip now had five different bottles of liquor in front of him.

     Parp had taken an experimental sip of each one, so his voice came out the slightest bit sluggish as he said, "you never know when good fortune's going to come along, so, when it does, you've got to grasp it." To demonstrate, Parp grabbed at nothing with both hands.

​     "Valuable insight," Ges-E said.

     "So where you from?" Skip asked Parp. Skip assumed Parp had to be at least rich enough to be able to afford kloval at Hrrm's Hive.

     Parp shrugged. "Here," he said. "I was born and raised here."

     "But you...But that..."

     That meant that Parp probably worked there at Hrrm's Hive.

     Oh.

     "I take it up the ass," Parp explained. "For those species with sexual organs larger than a human leg. I'd drop my pants and show you how big my butthole is, but that might be considered inappropriate, and inappropriate behavior is not accepted here."

     Again,

     Oh.

CONTINUE