The blob-parent peered around me to assess my family situation. When I followed their gaze—I think? Where are the eyes?—I sighed.
I’d asked Ziggynotto wear his Stellarian armor today, for a better chance of inspiring goodwill among our fellow shoppers, but he was apparently incapable of appearing like anything other than a bad bitch.
Usually, I can’t complain, but…
The current issue was that he was holding the sci-fi version of an AK-47 directly above where Pedro was bundled up in their homemade baby sling. A furry paw appeared from the folds of the sweatshirt, and I could only watch in resignation as Zig lowered the gun so “our offspring” could wrap their pangolin claws around the trigger in the correct way.
Space Dad of the Year…
I turned to face the blob again, expecting to find whatever their version of side-eye was. Instead, they were animatedly gesturing for me to follow them to a worn metallic panel barely hanging on to a nearby wall.
“We… are… here,” they haltingly spoke whilepointing at a hieroglyph that looked like a minimalist skull. “The death sector.”
That tracks.
It was no shock that one of the only areas of the market Ziggy was familiar with was Ye Olde Death Sector, but I staunchly focused on the pleasantsurprise of there being an actual map.
“You go here,” the blob concluded, stabbing a blobby finger at a section marked with what was possibly an egg.
Or a bomb.
Unclear.
“Thank you.” I pressed my palms together and bowed my head, assuming that was the universal gesture for gratitude.
“Most welcome,” my savior replied with a blobby bow of their own. “Good luck with yourTrol!”
Trol?
My translation device didn’t recognize the word, but before I could get clarification, the alien released their offspring from blob time-out and continued on their way.
Ziggy appeared at my side, brow furrowing as he squinted at the map he should have goddamn knew about.
“You were… asking for directions?” he murmured in wonder, as if the concept was as foreign to him as expressing emotions.
No wonder he identifies as a man…
“Well, yeah!” I exclaimed. “And the very nice blob told me this,” I pointed at our destination on the map, “is where to find offspring things.”
At least, I hope it is…
Ziggy nodded once before grabbing my wrist and abruptly star hopping us to the bomb-egg sector.
“I thought we were keeping a low profile,” I hissed under my breath, even if I was secretly glad we’d skipped what looked like a forty minute walk.
My ass is still a little sore from rooftop tendril tango.
That bratty Stellarian chuckled. “There are a few alien species who can fade in and out of invisibility, so our sudden disappearance and reappearance will not result in undue attention. Not to mention,anyof the creatures here could be a Stellarian.”
I instinctively looked around, interested to see if I could spot a hint of tendrils glimmering above anyone. Unfortunately, this area of the market had adopted the same futuristic design choices as the death sector. Every visible surface was sleek, shiny metal, creating a dizzying funhouse mirror effect while reflecting the overhead glow that fluctuated between purple, blue, and pink.
Gotta make that merchandise look fancy with the bi-lighting!
Even offspring things…
My gaze snagged on a stall with rows of carved wooden objects, reminding me of the all-natural teething toys my sister Rose insisted on for all her kids.
I led the way, grabbing an item vaguely shaped like a baby rattle before experimentally holding it out for Pedro. A clawed paw appeared to accept the toy before disappearing into the depths of Ziggy’s kangaroo pouch once again. A moment later, the toy was loudly spat onto the counter with the wooden ball at the end missing a jagged chunk.
