When last we left our Tiny Alien, he had travelled through much in order to Dominate Trick or Treating in a Land of Tiny Doors. After calling out the hallowed phrase "Trick or Treat or Else!" a flustered inhabitant offered to find him some "Else". Our story continues . . . .
"Else" apparently ended up being Hot Cocoa, a strange brown drink that did not seem much like a trick and wasn't practical to put in a bag so it most likely wouldn't count as a treat. The Tiny Alien agreed with the inhabitant that this qualified as "Else" and lowered his ray gun to ask what he should do with it. The inhabitant suggested they indulge in the local custom of "hanging out on the stoop". This apparently involved sitting on the steps watching locals go by and discussing life. The inhabitant admitted that drinking Cocoa while doing this was a personal twist of his own.
The first cup of Cocoa was sipped in silence. Apparently the inhabitant had servants or tribesmen behind the door because someone came out who took the empty cups and replaced them with new full cups. These cups had marshmallows floating in them which made the Tiny Alien feel better since it is well known that marshmallows were involved in Treats. As the first cup was slowly sipped the Tiny Alien watched the locals go by. They were green, purple, pinky beige, blue, the same color as the cocoa, jet black and shiny, fuzzy, fluffy, smooth and bumpy, frankly he'd seen cantina's with less variety. It was also very busy, but no one was Trick or Treating.
"What are they all doing?" The Tiny Alien muttered to no one in particular.
"Well, mostly they are going to and from their homes." The inhabitant rearranged his robes, so that there was a little extra padding to sit on. The Tiny Alien stared intently at the inhabitant.
The Tiny Alien took terrible offense. "I have no intention of going anywhere called Home!" started brandishing his ray gun in order to underscore the point. He was very careful not to spill the Cocoa though, because it would be a terrible waste of marshmallows.
"I'm terribly sorry." The inhabitant moved his Cocoa out of the way of the ray gun placing it on the long flat bannisterish part of the stoop.
"OK then," grumped the Tiny Alien, settling back on the steps. He explained that as tiny, Tiny Alien, he was constantly being told how wonderful it was to find one's place in the universe and settle down and become a productive member of society. He then went on to explain how such speeches gave him a great deal of indigestion since they always seemed to be to the benefit of beings who stayed in one place and didn't have much to offer for beings who wanted to See New Things.
The inhabitant admitted that his job had him frequently Seeing New Things and Meeting Interesting People, but it was nice to be able to have a place to keep one's paperwork. This was how the Tiny Alien discovered that almost everyone he was seeing was from Someplace Else. And very quietly inside the Tiny Alien something clicked into place. The something was a bit like the opposite of homesickness and not quite the same as wanderlust. The inhabitant, while obviously not a native, had found a sort of portable Home Base. That was not what the Tiny Alien wanted but he knew he wanted something . He also knew that whatever it was that he wanted it was certainly NOT to go Home. He pressed his host for more Trick or Treating information.
The inhabitant explained that they were in the middle of a holiday where people give gifts and he could try knocking on doors to see if that worked. After all it had scored him his third cup of Cocoa and more marshmallows, so the strategy while not perfect, was proven. A little more conversation proved out that Trick or Treating did indeed happen in the neighborhood but it was next scheduled for ten months. The Tiny Alien became very cranky indeed and grabbed his bag tightly and watched the blinking lights on his ray gun with great intensity.
The inhabitant mentioned that a gentleman who had experienced a great deal of spiritual growth was the expert to consult about local holidays. He provided the Tiny Alien with a slip of paper he called an "Address" and showed him the direction of an alley full of perfectly proper doors where this "Address" was before disappearing behind his own door. Unfortunately, the Tiny Alien never learned the numeric system for the local language and had to knock on numerous doors asking "Is the green gentleman with the dog home?" instead of "Trick or Treat". On the bright side all of the doors had beings behind them. On the dark side, he had forgotten the green gentleman's name. He kept getting distracted by the possible Trick or Treating potential. Thus, when tapped on the shoulder he was unprepared and startled.
He whipped his ray gun around and growled a bit, turning to face a being of the bipedal, green and fuzzy variety, grinning from ear to tiny ear. "Excuse me," the being scoffed, "I believe that you are looking for me, and I assure you, that I am equally agressive when startled, but these are kindler gentler times my friend, and I would like to invite you to join me while I carve some roast beast . . ." The fuzzy green being wiggled predatory eyebrows at the Tiny Alien, grinning a slightly twisted grin. "Surely you trust me . . . ."
Does the Tiny Alien trust him? Does carved roast beast count as a Treat? What is the something that clicked and is it dangerous? The answer to these and other questions may show up in out next Episode of Tales of the Tiny Alien . . . .