The
gentleman who answered the door had neck tattoos and a foul
expression.
"Ah,
good morning; my name is Alistair Forsythe, and I work for the United
Nations. I believe an acquaintance of mine is currently a guest in
your home and I was wondering if I could come in and speak to him."
The
tattooed man's gaze was directed past Forsythe's shoulder, and he was
clearly beginning to panic.
"I
can assure you I have no interest in any illegal drugs or other
illicit activity that may be occurring within. I'm only interested in
speaking to my friend. I believe you know to whom I refer? That way
it won't be necessary to involve... well, anyone else." Forsythe
smiled as the man's eyes went from him to the numerous police
vehicles and SWAT team members assembled on the street and back
again.
"Uh.
Yeah, all right. Come on in." The man unlocked and opened the
security door, and backed out of the way.
"Excellent,
thank you," Forsythe said as he stepped inside. "And
where..."
"Kitchen.
Hey homes, are they really not gonna come in?" The tattooed man
gestured nervously to the front door.
"Not
unless there's a problem."
He
held up his hands to indicate he was compliant. "Ain't gonna be
no problem, man. We've been real friendly to... your friend. You too,
homes. We're all real
chill."
"Excellent,
thank you. I'll just proceed into the kitchen then."
The
house was Forsythe's first drug den, and so far — other than the
barred security door — was confounding his expectations: it was
relatively clean, and the few people present seemed more interested
in a football game on the television than maintaining a high. He
proceeded into the kitchen, where he found the Shchinwhee
Ambassador's son sitting at a small Formica table. The alien's eye
stalks swung around and fixed on the doorway as he entered. "Ah,
Forsythe! The beetles told you where to find me? Ah, yes, they did.
The Ident discs, you see, they're tracers as well. Isn't cocaine
wonderful?"
"I
can't say that I've ever had the pleasure. May I sit?"
"Of
course, of course.
Teo let you in, yes? Teo,
come have some cocaine, my friend!"
From
the other room came, "Naw, man, that's cool, I'm all good,
homes."
The
alien continued, while cutting lines on the Formica table surface,
"They call the Polixaci 'beetles', did you know that? 'El
Escarabajo'. I had to look them up, beetles, but it's so perfect,
isn't it? The antennae, the carapace..."
"Tyndagoloh,
your father is concerned. He called from Mars to make sure we found
you and brought you back to—"
"But
I'm having so much fun,
Forsythe. Your planet is so much more interesting when one is
immersed in it!"
"May
I ask, how did you get here?"
"On
the liner, of course... Forsythe, you met us at the lander—"
"Not
to Earth, Tyndagoloh; here, to this house."
"I
decided to have a look around. I mean, a real
look around, not the tour in your bulletproof vans and a fully
secured perimeter. It's so boring,
Forsythe. I sneaked out of the Natural History Museum while the guide
was describing the life cycle of Mamenchisaurus,
and walked out into the city. I talked to people. I had dinner with a
family last night, they were wonderful.
They have a son, DeJohn, but he doesn't live with them because he has
a problem about drugs?"
"He
has a drug problem—"
"Yes,
that's it, a 'drug problem'. So I asked around. DeJohn is upstairs
with a 'prostitute'. They ingest the cocaine and then mate;
apparently the pleasure is heightened. Which I have no trouble
believing." He snorted another line with a disturbingly agile
nasal proboscis. "They're not that hard to find, the drugs.
They're wonderful.
Well, cocaine is. I didn't like 'pot'. It's the inhalation of smoke,
it was uncomfortable."
"From
what I understand it can be baked into brownies."
The
alien stopped what he was doing and regarded Forsythe. "Can
it?" He called to the other room, "Teo! Teo, my friend, do
you know how to bake brownies?"
The
tattooed man answered, "Naw man, but Rosita does. She'll be home
at ten, man, if you wanna wait."
Forsythe
pressed, "You don't need pot brownies, Tyndagoloh. You need to
come back to the Embassy and let the Polixaci doctors have a thorough
look at you."
"Why?"
"Well,
because cocaine is very
bad for you. It's very bad for humans, in large amounts like this,
and we have no idea what the cumulative effect would be for someone
of your race."
"Teo
didn't say anything about any of that—"
"He's
a drug dealer,
Tyndagoloh."
"Oh,
I know. Apparently he's very well regarded in the area. I gave him
what DeJohn said was a very large amount of local currency, and in
return I can have as much cocaine as I want. I'm enjoying it very
much so far."
"Drug
dealers are not exactly trustworthy, Tyndagoloh. I wouldn't have set
foot in here without having half the NYPD right outside. You're not
safe here even without all the drugs which, if you continue to ingest
them at this rate, may cause one of your hearts to explode."
The
alien paused, his eye stalks regarding the mountain of white powder
on the table. "Oh, dear. That could be serious. Especially if it
were the bottom one, it's closer to the brain—"
"Yes,
exactly. So, if we can go to the Embassy, we can make sure that
doesn't become a problem."
"Well,
if you say so." The alien put down his straw, got up, and strode
from the kitchen into the living room, leaving Forsythe to scramble
after him.
"Teo!
Teo, my friend, I must go..." By the time Forsythe made it into
the living room, the alien had thrown his triple-jointed arms around
the tattooed man and was genially squeezing him.
Teo,
frozen, gathered enough composure to say, "Hey, all right, no
problem, homes."
"And
give Rosita my love!"
"...Yeah,
yeah, all right, I'll be sure and do that, homes."
Tyndagoloh
released the drug dealer and headed for the front door, while
Forsythe added, "The United Nations thanks you for your
co-operation."
"Yeah,
anytime, bro."
Outside,
the heavily armored police had visibly relaxed once the Shchinwhee
visitor had emerged unharmed. He was being ushered into a
bullet-proof UN van for transport back to the Polixaci Embassy.
"Any
problems," one of the cops asked Forsythe as he stepped from the
lawn onto the sidewalk.
"None.
Very cooperative. Model citizen, in fact, Sergeant. Very 'Better
Homes & Gardens' in there."
"Yeah,
sure. Should we take them down anyway, while we're here?"
"I
think tomorrow will be soon enough, Sergeant. Especially as the
United Nations gave its word—"
"To
a drug dealer."
"Nevertheless.
One does want one's word to mean something, especially in this day
and age. Had the... homeowner... not believed me, the Ambassador's
son might have been in real danger."
The
officer shrugged. "Whatever you say, Mister Forsythe. My orders
are to defer to you." He signaled to the others, and yelled,
"Mount up! Back to base!"
Forsythe
climbed into the van with Tyndagoloh, who was fast asleep.
"Unbelievable."
