Prompt: Cashiers are actually an advanced alien civilization hiding in plain sight.
When do we strike?
Soon, soon— keep calm, Zorg’th.
I do not want to keep calm, Yzuxo’g. These things are disgusting and hideous, especially their offspring—
“Hello, how are you? Good, good. Do you have a membership rewards card? Would you like one? Oh, okay, thank you. Your total is $24.00. Debit? Okay, just swipe or use the chip. Here’s your bags, have a good day.”
How do they not know we’re superior?
Silence Zorg’th, our time will come.
When Yzuxo’g, when?
“What a cute child you have, miss. Oh you have coupons? Wonderful, let me scan those in and you’ll be on your way,” Zorg’th heard Yzuxo’g say from the checkout two aisles down. “Your new balance is $10.45. Cash? Great! We needed more quarters.” Yzuxo’g gave a false laugh. “You too, miss!”
How do you speak like that to those things, Yzuxo’g? That laugh, God! it makes my spines crawl.
You have to play their game Zorg’th, or they’ll find us out — find that we’re different.
So what if they do? What could they do? Only one of our ten ligaments are stronger than twenty of their male specimens. Even their guns they so worship could hardly scratch our skin.
We were instructed by Lord Hyu’zth to remain here, with the others, and gather information before any attack can occur. Do you want to defy him?
Zorg’th didn’t respond.
No, I don’t…
“Your change is $0.74, have a good day, sir!”
Charlie, please report to the manager’s office. Charlie at register four, please report to the manager’s office immediately.
What did you do, Zorg’th? What the hell did you do?
I don’t know, seriously.
Zorg’th signaled for another cashier to take his place, then walked from his register to the manager’s office in the back. If his human shell had sweat glands, his employee shirt would’ve been soaked through. When he reached the door, he took a deep breath, then pushed it open.
Lord Hyz’uth, you called for me?
Read my previous prompt, “The Pact of a Whistler.”
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