"What do you mean, you're out?" the glutton bellowed.

"That's right," Orik reiterated. "No more Foozy Woozy."

The customer addressed the sign posted behind Orik. "Your sign says you're giving away a free Foozy Woozy to the first fifty customers!"

"True," Orik said, slowly. "But, the thing is, you're not one of them. You're more like one hundred and eighty-three or something."

"That's crap!" the Bluescale screamed, stomping his foot and frowning like a puffy child. "Give me a Foozy Woozy!"

Orik was about to call Enforcement. "I'm out. That's it."

"I want Foozy Woozy!" he continued, unswervingly.

"No."

Glaring, the man said, "I know you've got one hidden under that counter. You're keeping it for yourself, aren't you?"

Orik's eyes flitted across the countertop, and then he bore them back into the customer's. "You need to leave, Sir. I'll have Enforcement in here quicker than snot."

The man growled, and with that, forced his weight over the counter and grabbed Orik's shirt. Orik turned and tried to pull away, but the customer snatched a handful of his hair and yanked him back. Snarling, the customer bit him on the shoulder and then slurred, "Give me it! Give me!" Drivel hung from his lips, like a maddened dog. After pushing the man back, Orik struck him in the shin with his steel-toed shoe. The Bluescale barked out, doubling over, and Orik swiftly brought his other foot up to meet the descending face. Another abrupt yelp and the aggressor sailed backwards and smacked the tile floor with his head. He lay there, motionless, until a twisty onrush of blood began to seep from his nose, down the side of his face.

Breath raspy, Orik raked his hair back and inspected the aggressor's current state. Orik confirmed that he was alive and, to his chagrin, felt suddenly disheartened. He had acted in self-defense and it would have been justified! In shortly under three seconds, he rebuffed the iniquitous emotion; but, more-and-more, it became harder to do.

Spying his Geographical Locator on the countertop, Orik went over and grabbed it up. He typed in Enforcement's identification number, and a face appeared on the screen. He explained the situation to her, and she told him that an ambulance would be arriving shortly and not to leave.

As calm settled in, Orik sat on the counter edge and glanced over his shop. He had every last trinket imaginable; silver plates, fake ruby necklaces, balls of varying colors and sizes, horns, pictures, cups, cards, parts to a hover engine, spotted stuffed animals, games and candy and more games�no books; no one read books�no Foozy Woozy. Too much! He had been collecting grudgingly for about forty-five years, and he couldn't remember one time that it had ever sparked excitement. It was for the money. To have nice things. Acceptance.

You were zilch if you did not own a business on Bolk. The planet was bursting with business. Its webbed streets bustled with activity, day and night. Venders peddled their wares on every street corner and down every stretch. Shopkeepers, like himself, cast their poles into the busied streets and reeled in whomever was foolish enough to bite. Often the same fish bit twice. But sometimes the fish was a shark, like that fat jerk!

Orik scrutinized the unconscious whale that bled all over his floor. These kinds of attacks were growing in frequency lately. People on Bolk knew only want, want, want, and they got, got, got whatever they wanted. The business was getting old.

When the ambulance arrived, Enforcement was with them, and they asked Orik the usual questions. They told him that other shopkeepers had had trouble with this guy before and that they'd be booking him down town. The confirmation hardly calmed his nerves. There were a million fools just like this one waiting in the darkened alleys for their chance at him. They all wanted Foozy. He had best take precautions and stock more Foozy Woozy dolls. The furry, ball-like toy was from the new movie, Foozy's World Part III, staring Foozy Woozy himself. The distributors' warehouses were all out, but they said more were on the way.

Orik glanced out the front window, while the Enforcement Rep jotted down a few notes, and observed the rent-a-guards standing outside his colleagues' shop fronts. It was obvious his fellow shopkeepers were getting jittery about the business as he was. The funny thing was that he would trade a rent-a-guard, any day, for a fully stocked shelf of Foozy Woozy dolls. It was safer. At least while Foozy enjoyed his phenomenal success. Soon, the next toy would arise from the unknown and be lustily desired by the masses. It was the way of marketing.

They extracted the whale from his shop and the door closed behind them. Orik grabbed a mop and went to work. Soon thereafter, the door swung open and the bell rang above it.

"Hey, man!" said a young Bluescale. "Got any Woozies�can't find none."

"No, Kid. All out."

The punk grunted with an angry disposition, but finally thought better about it and left.

Orik sighed. It would be his life if those warehouses didn't start providing, and fast!

He listened as the antique grandfather clock chimed in the back�1:30. Time for lunch. Maybe Rendle was home? Orik locked the front door, flipped over the sign, then went out the back exit, making sure to secure it behind him.

His hovercraft sat roped off to a metal pole and he untied it and got on. The ignition button flashed green and he punched it. The back engine roared to life, spitting out a haze of white smoke, and he was off.

He advanced out over the neighboring hilltops and took solace in their serene lumpiness, and the occasional tree that would adorn their crowns. After a stretch, the hills opened into a wide valley and he sped forward, having trees and landscape sweep past him as the craft hummed effortless. Before long, ever-popular Lake Teedo materialized about eight hundred meters ahead. It came up fast and Orik started across it.

There, overweight Bluescales, the native specie of Bolk, basked in the sunlight along the water's edge and ate lunch under the shade of the trees. Orik recoiled at their smell! Their sweat glands existed under their large scales and, strangely, few Bluescales elected to bathe, unlike humans. Perhaps they thought of bathing as an encroachment on their shopping adventures? All too probable.

The hovercraft coughed with starvation and Orik opened the fuel line just enough to stabilize it, any more and the beast would flood. The craft roared with renewed strength and its whining engine caused a few angry glances to stray his way. He didn't care. These fools knew little beyond consumerism and chronic laziness, and soon would be back dreaming about their future possessions. Lake Teedo shrunk away in the distance.

The crisp afternoon would have been enjoyable if it weren't for the numerous wares-men traveling through the forests and along the bumpy roads, hopping from town to town with high hopes. It seemed like on the backside of every hill and behind every bend, there popped a peddler with shiny teeth. Their manufactured smiles had become a sign, to Orik, of their true intent to swindle. He knew! He had mastered the smile many years ago, and was ashamed at how many fools he had duped with its apparent sincerity. Everyone for themselves on Bolk! Everyone for themselves.

By geez! He needed off this ball. The thought had crossed his mind before. But a seat aboard a galaxy-bound starship cost too much. Even the cargo ships, which were certainly galaxy-class, charged a hefty penny, and they didn't even have seats! Normal people couldn't get tickets anyway. You had to know someone. Nevertheless, he had to find a way off this drab, over-populated, predictable, buy-and-sell planet, before it consumed him!

He crested a hilltop and swept down the other side, avoiding an abandoned Product Cart that appeared to have been stolen and looted. Warm air rushed at his face and blew his graying hair back flat. The GL screen on his hovercraft started to beep. He tapped a red button and a face popped up.

"Hi, Orik! I tried contacting you at the shop, but you weren't in."

It was Deb, one of his distributors.

"I'm on lunch, Deb. What do you want?" He had asked her a few days ago to get him more Foozy Woozy dolls, and as an aside, more jokingly than serious, a ticket off this bum planet; she had the contacts.

"I've got that ticket you wanted," she said.

Wow! Apparently, her contacts were good. "On what?"

"A cargo ship, due in next month."

"Where will it be going, after it leaves?"

"Let's see," she said, thumbing through her papers, "looks like the usual destinations. A stop off at the Magellanic Clouds�then onto the Milky Way. More than likely they'll be stopping off on Earth�maybe Mars."

"I need that ticket, Deb! I've got to get off this dump." He knew little about Earth, but the pictures he sold of it continually tested the boundaries of his imagination, which over the years had grown somewhat dull. Deb knew nothing about Earth herself, as Orik had asked her years ago. The screen flickered, threatening to disconnect, and he tapped it lightly.

"It's going to cost," she said. "It wasn't easy to come by."

"I can send you the money after I arrive on Earth�how's that?"

"Absolutely not. I don't trust you�or anyone else on this planet, come to think of it."

"I thought we were friends?" Orik said, trying his hand at persuasion. It worked on the Bluescales�sometimes.

"Ha! I'm no fool, Orik. Pay now, or no ticket."

Orik shrugged. "How much?"

"Thirty thousand. Take it or leave it."

"Thirty thousand! I don't have it. I'd have to sell my business." He stared at her for a moment. "You're charging too much."

"Hardly," she said. "The going rate, for a cargo ship, is forty. I'm giving you a twenty-five percent discount."

"You're too kind."

"I know. It's bad for business."

"Well," he said with battered spirits, "it looks like you're stuck with a ticket. I can't afford it. Did you get those dolls?"

"Stuck isn't the word! These tickets sell like steamed clams, and for more than I'm offering you. I'll hold on to it for awhile. Maybe you can come up with something?" She rustled a few more papers, scrutinizing them thoroughly. "No�Foozy Woozy hasn't shown up yet. Sorry."

"That's alright. It's only my life."

She laughed. "I know what you mean. I'll be seeing you."

The screen beeped and then her image faded to black. He flipped off the GL.

Orik sped over the large pond located on the edge of Rendle's property, and in no time a squat, gray building appeared through the trees. He could see Rendle through the back window writing on his book. The old guy openly despised business, and had withdrawn from it years ago. His home was one room with a wood-burning stove and single bed. He ate from the quarter-acre garden out back, and was usually reasonably happy living alone in the woods with his thoughts and book writing.

Orik pulled back on the thruster controls and applied the air brakes. The whining engine sputtered down.

Rendle looked up from his work and smiled, then got up and came to the door. He stood hunched over in the doorway. "What brings you out here, Orik?"

"It's lunchtime."

Rendle looked the hovercraft up and down.

"You need to walk more. There's a strange kind of joy in it."

"I haven't the time to walk. The pressures of business."

"Business will suck you dry, Orik. I'm living proof."

"What do you have to eat?" Orik asked, hearing it all before.

They walked inside and Rendle offered him some leftover stew from the night before. It was good as they sat next to the wood stove. When they finished, Rendle brewed some coffee. Warm air blew in from the open windows forcing the thin drapery to flap responsively. Orik's entire body buzzed, due to the lack of noise that was normally found in the city. A ringing pestered him in his ears.

"So, when are you going to quite that silly business and come out here and write books with me?" said Rendle.

"Right now!" Orik said exasperated. "Believe me. The business is getting old�and too dangerous. I was attacked today."

"Again!" blared Rendle. "What over?"

"A Foozy Woozy. It's the latest thing."

"Ah!" Rendle croaked with a bitter scowl and wave. "Those numb-headed bastards ought to be dragged out and shot. It would end their insatiable misery�no one can own everything!"

"They try," Orik said. "They really do."

"You'll really get hurt one day, and I don't want that."

Orik acknowledged his thoughtfulness with a smile, as he seesawed in his rocking chair. "I may leave Bolk in a month or so."

"How?" said Rendle.

"I asked a business associate of mine for a ticket off the planet. It's a c-ship that arrives next month sometime-apparently, there's room in the hold."

"You're going, aren't you?"

"She wants thirty thousand. I'd have to sell my business."

"What's stopping you?"

"About forty-five years. That shop's all I know."

"You've been at it too long, Orik. Selling nick-knacks for pennies. You'd be an old fool not to go. Sell that scrap shop! You'll feel better."

"That's easy for you to say. You're retired."

"So should you be, old buddy. Now's your chance."

Orik huffed. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is! I wasted my whole life working those streets, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. All I have now is this shack and a few unpublished books. Knowing that, your decision shouldn't be so difficult."

"Yeah, but what's really out there? All I know is Bolk."

"An infinite array of fascinating worlds, Orik. I know! I've visited hundreds of them over the years."

"You had the wherewithal to do that sort of thing," said Orik. "I've seen Bolk. That's it."

"Don't blame me for having a rich father," said Rendle. "He lived out his entire life scrimping and saving. He never enjoyed any of it. When I got it, I wanted to enjoy it. Of course, the money ran out on me rather quickly."

"And you've never been to Earth!" Orik confirmed, shaking his head.

"No. Too many other places to see."

"Nobody has ever been to Earth!" boomed Orik. Rendle huffed.

"Our galaxy only discovered it a fifty years ago! Plus, who on this planet can afford to travel that distance? They spend their money on things."

Orik picked at a fingernail. "I wish the c-ships that supply us were staffed with real people. Those androids won't tell me a thing about Earth. It's not in their programming or something?"

"What's the big bang-up about Earth anyway?" asked Rendle.

"I don't know. It's just that the pictures I've seen of it intrigue me. It's one of most elegantly colorful balls in space."

"Well, then. Go discover it for yourself," said Rendle.

Orik fell quit. "You're probably right," he finally said. "I've spent my whole life on this worthless, dead planet. Earth seems interesting. Why don't you come with me, Rendle? Maybe I could sneak you on?"

Rendle chuckled. "I'm too damned old! The trip would kill me. Besides, I'm happy in the woods here."

Orik stretched back in his chair. "For almost half a century, I've been collecting crap," he said, "and underneath it all I've hated every damn minute of it. There's no reason to keep it going. I think what I really need is a good adventure." He paused again. "I'm going to do it! I know plenty of people who'd buy my shop. It's one of the best locations around."

Rendle slapped Orik's back. "Good choice, my friend."----end of sample.