After a moment of waiting, the door in the ground swung up and open, and a Gwolbang head popped up. There was a long plaintive whistle, which his translator soon passed as, “Can I help you?”
“Good evening. I’m the regional Human Trade Inc. representative and…”
Another long whistle, this one coming through as: “Not interested. We only buy goods made on Gwolb.” The alien head disappeared, and the door swung shut with a resonant thud.
The salesman trudged back downhill to where his supervisor was waiting. “Having a tough first day?” the man asked.
“Fucking racists,” observed the salesman.
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