The grey-skinned Pumba inhabited the ice planet. Human executioner Marcas kept ignoring the squat Pumba’s attempts to communicate with him and laughingly gave the four-legged one his business card. There were still two out of the five Terrans left on his list to kill. He watched the Pumba carry the dead renegades away. ‘Ugh!’ He said, knowing the bodies would be eaten. “You’re welcome to the feast.”
The Pumba met. ‘Pumba Tux reporting. At 1324, Ugh offered us food. He even slaughtered them for us.’
‘Set the planet coordinates to quadrant 3, sector X…’
Ugh had invited them to dinner.
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