Ransom Note
26 Dec 2018Today’s prompt: “Tell a story that begins with a ransom note.”
“We have the bag of meat-flesh you have emotions for. If you want it back, put 500,000 quatloos in the Dark Matter Vortex behind the Blubby’s Burgers in Quadrant 47,” the alien that looks like a bipedal four-armed sentient burlap sack filled with cockroaches reads.
“Excellent, Vix-trom,” says the fat purple gelatinous alien through its fat purple gelatinous lips. “And I see you made the note from letters cut out of a publication, as is customary among the Earthen meat-sacks.”
“It’s important to get the details right,” Vix-trom says. “Speaking of which, I believe it is also tradition to cut off a part of the body and mail it with the note.”
“We could cut off one of the weird bony tentacles on the ends of its arms,” says the fat purple alien, entwining the fat purple jellylike tentacles at the ends of its arms.
“How would the meat-flesh’s family know it came from their meat-flesh?” says Vix-trom.
“Ugh, all the meat-bags look the same to me,” says the fat purple alien.
“I think you tell them apart by their patches of fur,” Vix-trom says, grabbing your hair.
“Mmmmph,” you attempt to say through your gag.
“We should cut off its head and send it to the meat-bag’s family,” says the fat purple alien, removing its own head with its tentacle arms. “That way, they know we have their meat-bag, and they can just reattach the head when we give them the body back,” it says, demonstrating with its own head.
“Mmmm mmmm!” you say.
“Good idea,” says Vix-trom. Its lower right arm produces a thin, gleaming blade and slashes all the way through your neck. Your head hits the floor with a thud and your body slumps in its chains.
“Is it dead?” says the fat purple alien. “Stupid meat-sacks.”