It was a busy time in the Third Star Bar and Swill.
It was populated by the usual array of intergalactic riff raff. The Groks had come to town, finished with their monthly clean up of the Milky Way, as they would say to each other ‘another sopping time well spend’. It was about the only time you ever heard them say anything resembling humour as they were known as a largarlous people, quick to temper, and quicker to act if the mood took them.
The Groks occupied the far end of the bar, they always sat together, tonight was no exception.
It was going to be a busy night as the entertainment for the evening was the alluring Sensuate. These were beings from the Planet Sensuatum. Until recently very little was known about them as very few travellers ever returned from a ‘visit’ to their world. But the lure of riches beyond their dreams and a new power had lured them away from their small protected world.
The Sensuate had the power to arouse and destroy, if they so wished, but a generous payment by the bar owners had ensured that the arousing bit was all they did at the Third Star.
Along from the Groks were the Nevebs, oddly shaped beings with a savage hunger for all the Sensuate would provide.
Country, country, country they could be heard muttering amongst themselves in their strange high pitched voices all the while rubbing what appeared to be the back end of the one beside them. They would give a little jump every now and then signalling their obvious pleasure at whatever was being done to them.
Most people left the Nevebs alone as they had little in common other than their own need to watch the Sensuate in action.
At the other end of the bar sat Finbar O’Toole, an Irishman from the planet Earth, a far off world inhabited by a disgusting race of people intent on ravaging their world of its resources and dumping as much rubbish as they could in their wake. Finbar was a bit of a celebrity, as he had nothing else going for him but a big voice and a lot of hide.
‘Ya canna lug the mutie with a doogle if un wanna ya know boys,’ he said as he slammed his tankard down on the bar. Around him his cronies nodded and there was a mass shaking of heads in agreement.
‘She’ll shakes us and toggle us for sure it is Finbar,’ said Seamus Bleary, Finbar’s right hand man
‘You not bleadin snoshed for it Seamus?’ asked Finbar.
This brought raucous cries from the ones around and Seamus’ face was bright red, embarrassed as he was by the attention.
‘Youse are all larricus vasles,’ he lashed back.
Before anyone had the chance to say anything the lights dimmed and onto the bar stepped the Sensuate. Stepped probably wasn’t the right word to use rather they glided, it was as if they were there, in your space, they drew your attention, stole your focus and held you as if tied to their gaze.
And tied you were, as they manoeuvred their way along the bar their strange music, penetrated your mind and soon you were spellbound, not only in the mind but you found your physical bits reacting as never before.
Their act reached it climax with them extruding a vapour from them selves that gathered a momentum and flashed around the bar, in and between the myriad of galactic beings gathered there.
It never ceased to amaze me that with such diversity of beings present the Sensuate were always able to touch and excite everyone who was present. Even Worthless Larry the town down and outer, abandoned by his people and left to wallow in the back allies behind the Third Star could be seen mesmerised as everyone else, until hit with a blast face on from the Sensuate vapour that spreadeagled him on the floor an unconscious mess.
It seemed the Sensuate chose whom they would commit their ultimate act to and not everyone was selected.
As the frenzy of the vapour continued you could hear groups calling out their catchcry, for in what language you liked it was always the same thing, pick me!
Meanwhile the Sensuate stood still on the bar surveying the crowd, directing its vapour over the masses, delighting I am sure in the mayhem it created of potential satisfaction and likely dissatisfaction.
Then there was a blinding light, a sound like a brunmat going off, the sounds of pain in some sections of the bar, grunts of delight from others, screams from the Nevebs who were always chosen as their catchcry ‘Country’ reached a fever pitch throughout the performance, which left them slimy saturated messes by the performances conclusion.
Suddenly it was over. In the blinding light the Sensuate had vanished. The bar was silent save for the heavy breathing of all who possessed lungs, other beings like the Nevebs, had a dancing like dialogue going amongst themselves from which the word ‘country’ was clearly audible.
Amongst Finbar’s group their appeared to be a lot of backs turned away, hands in nether regions, tightening of belts and ordering of drinks.
The Groks were looking about muttering to themselves, their sensual selves sated, their fighting selves still hungry.
The bar went back to its dangerous self, the brief moment of unity lost in the reality of an untrusting universe.
Written for: http://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2014/04/24/tale-weavers-prompt-5-slang-2/
Morpethroad 