Runaround

Yesterday, I had one of those days where every time I tried to accomplish a task, I got the runaround.

First, I had to pay my weekly taxes, so I tubed down to the Reclamation Bureau to fork over the cash. The Drip behind the counter could barely speak English and he kept telling me my account was out of fodder. I'm guessing he meant order, but who the Hell knows with a Drip.

When I finally paid my taxes, I grabbed a cab to Luna's Wake for a beer. The cabbie didn't like my credit chit, as a matter of fact, he snapped it in two, then threw it out the window. I don't know what his problem was. Maybe the naked Bracklez female offended him. Most humans think it's a joke. They have no idea.

Neither do I. Never been with a Bracklez. Tried a Drip once. Nothing but ooze. And if you don't wash the stuff off right away, it turns nasty. I never take a Drip home after too many beers.

Back to my story. Naike, the bartender, isn't one to run a tab, especially for humans. He remembered my chit, who wouldn't, but when I couldn't produce it, he pointed at the door. I offered to do dishes, or sani the tables, but he didn't go for it. Man, I needed a drink.

So I tubed into the core and headed for the Slit Fields.