STOVSKI'S DELI.

Stovski's deli is located in a dilapidated, old brick storefront, sharing the buildings' frontage with a ladies hair salon that was closed. Next to the building was a dirt and gravel parking lot with several older vehicles hapazardly at rest. My car pulled in, located the roomiest spot, and settled us in.
"Off," I instucted in Galactic Common. The car shut down and Marchell and I exited into the night.
"First stop," I observed. "I hope they have some good latkas."
"Wrong part of town," the vampiress returned. "This is perogie country." She turned toward me. "Anyways, I have to get this disk to The Bishop. " She nodded and looked beyond me. "The boys will see to your safety."
I turned and there were the two vamp strong arms that had accompanied Marchell and the Bishop at The Wtches' Brew. Or, as I had come to think of them,Tweedledum and Tweedledumber. Thet were dressed in black tees and pants. Dum's tee read "Vampires need love too." Dumbers' proudly boasted "better undead than red." It appeared a very old shirt.
I turned back to protest the arrangement, but Marchell had already disappeared. I sighed and turned to my protectors.
"You guys know anything about this place?" I asked.
They gave each other a glance and shook their heads."Nah,"answered Dum. "Been here a few decades, is all."
"Sorry," added Dumber."We're just not into cold cuts."
They both sniggered over the funny.
10,000 clowns out of work and I got these guys.
I turned and went throught the small parking lot to the streetfront entrance, the Dums glued to my heels. I went through the single door, an old wood framed affair painted a peeling brown, and entered the deli. there werre racks with bags of chips, snacks, overpriced canned goods,imported delicacies and more. to the left were several coolers filled with beverages, prepackaged meats, ice creams and more. At the rear was a refrigerated display containing a variety of meats and cheeses ready to be sliced at the work station behind. The only other customer was a tiny old man looking over breads on a rack of baked goods.
A older lady, dressed in utilitarian blue dress and an old white apron waddled from the back to the front register.
"May I help you," she asked, looking over me and my two compatriats. She seemed a touch unnerved by the Dums appearance and I guessed she was fearing a robbery. Her voice had an old world accent I couldn't quite place.
"Hi," I replied, trying to be casually friendly. I took out a picture of Glore in his human guise that I had downloaded. "We're trying to find my cousin, Glore."He disappeared a few days ago and no one seems to know where he is." I handed her the picture which she glanced at with a nod.
"Yes, "she said, "Mr Glore. He'd come in two, sometimes three nights a week. He liked the corned beef. He's missing?"
"Ah, yes."
"He hasn't been in this week. sorry, I can not help you."
She handed back the picture.
"Did he come in alone? Leave by himself?"
"Always alone," she nodded.
"Anyone ever ask about him?"
"No. he came in, got his corned beef and rye and left. Would you like some corned beef?"
The man by the bread had picked out a loaf to his liking and was inching towards the front.
"Sure, I'll take a pound. " I answered, trying to think of some insightful question to ask next. "Why don't you grab some rye?" I said to Dum.
He smiled, "Ok," and headed for a cooler filled with liquor.
"I meant the bread," I clarified.
""Oh."
Doing little to mask his disappointment, he circled around the racks to the bread.
The lady clerk had gone back to the work station behind the meat counter and removed a hunk of corned beef from the cooler. "How you want that sliced? Thin or thick?"
"Thin"
The old man reached the counter.
Two young men, judging by their fluidity of motion, entered the deli. Wearing ski masks. Waving hand guns.
"This is stick up!" one shouted. "Everybody down!"

CAMPAIGN ADS

As the car made it's way to our first destination I turned on the radio.
"What," challenged Marchell. "No small talk?"
Sorry," I replied. "Monitering human communications channels comes with the territory. I like to keep informed. Besides, it's what they pay me for."
"Pay? What do you use for money anyways?"
"Generally we use wimpet fur," I said, imagining myself to be quite droll. "It's quite rare, wimpets only growing on a world called Fossli. We measure it by the gram for exchange."
Marchell curled her lip and gave one of those "You're hopeless" little shakes of her head.
"Really," I persisred. "It makes shopping quite an experience. Go to the store, lug your wimper fur, go to the net store, lug your wimpet fur..."
She laughed weakly. "A wampum based space faring society. Right."
The music terminted on the radio. On came a political ad. A Democrat bashed a Republican.implying, if I understood it correctky, that the man's third cousin on his mother's side (twice removed) had once been involved in mail fraud, selling defective matches to Eskimos..
"Huh?" I grunted. "What does that have to do with an election?"
Immediately another ad followed, this time a Republican came on accusing his Democratic foe of UnAmerican practices. Seems he had bought some socks and underwear mailorder that proved to have been made in Pakistan(a place where many want to kill Americans, but not until after selling them unmentionables.), and thus had cost 50,000 hard working textile unionists their jobs.
I reiterated, "Huh? That has nothing to do with issues. how is this supposed to get votes."
"Oh, the ads have nothing to do with issues," began Marchell. "Everyone knows the issues. No one really knows what to do about them. The candidates don't know what to do to about them. and besides, both parties just want to suck as much money out of the people and into their control for promoting their own social agenda. Everyone knows that. So no one bothers running ads on issues. That would immediately label the guy as someone not to be trusted. So instead, they engage in mudslinging and schollyard name calling. "She paused a second. "I think they think they are being entertaining. Anyways, over the last decade or so the politicians have been raising it up to an art form. I think they have an awards show slated for November, sort of like the Oscars.."
Now it was my turn to shake my head. "Heck of a way to run a country."
"No one's running it,"Marchell corrected. "Everyone just keeps pulling in different directions. Soon I expect it will end up being pulled apart at the seams. "
Thankfully we now were treated to an ad for deodorizing foot powder and a handy dandy cream for smearing on your forehead should you get a headache. Then the music returned, introduced by The Radio Personality, who dutifully ran his schtick over the first twelve bars or so of the song.
By then we were reaching our destination on West 130th. Stovski's twenty three and a half hour deli.....

The Hunt Begins

A reddish haze searing the edges of the horizon was all that remained of the day as I pulled into my parkung space behind the house. Jim and Gail's cars were nestled in the garage. I hoped Marchell hadn't risen yet or, if she had, that she would have the sense not to turn on the tv. My impression was that female company would be frowned upon by my hosts.
I entered the side hallway and began to ascend the stairs. From above there was quiet. Behind the door to my monkey boy landlord's domicile I could hear the cacophony of discussion, complaints and commentaary that seemed to always accompany their dinner. The aroma wafting through the hall said "spaghetti". That's as close as humans ever really come to fried green worms.
I entered my third floor suite. Marchell was apparently still conked in the closet as I was alone in the main room. I crossed to my computer table,sat before the machine, and popped out the disk with the Bishop's corrected mathematical formulae. I placed it back in it's pink vinyl case that I had left on the table that morning.
"A deal is a deal," came the voice of the vampiress from behind me. Vampires can be disturbingly, sneakily quiet. I hadn't heard her exit the closet while I had extracted the disk from my drive.I made a note to buy her a bracelet with little clangy bells adorning it on the next appropriate monkey boy holiday.
I turned around in my chair. Her darkness was standing there, head cocked a little to the left, exuding expectation.
"So it is," I replied.
I tossed her the disk case and she slipped it into het black top, It seemed to meld with her outfit, leaving to trace of it's form or outline.
"Thank you," she nodded. "And now for our part. Are you ready to go werewolf hunting?"
I nodded. "Sure am. Let's go, shall we?"
Marchell took a step toward the door.
"Wait," I cautioned. "Not the hallway. My monkey boys are right downstairs. You might be a little hard to explain if they saw you leaving. " I tilted my head toward the window.
Marchell gave a laugh."I think they'd just probably jump to a conclusion. Still...."
She raised her arm and her form blurred,shrunk and a few seconds later, hovering there in the middle of my living room was a foot long gray bat. The universe has certain laws regarding the conservation of energy and matter. Either the vampires had some way.knowingly or otherwise, of circumventing those laws, or that was one heavy bat hovering before me on wispy wings. I really was looking forward to an opportunity to investigate that further, but tonight would not be that time.
I opened the wimdow as before and Batvamp flittered out. I exited my rooms, headed across the drive to my car. Marchell, back in human form,was awaiting me. We entered the vehicle.
"On." I ordered in galactic common. My car hummed to life and we sped off into the night.

INTERLUDE

A SPECIAL NOTE FROM FRAZZI
I have been vacationing on the outer galactic rim, interrupting my narrative and will return this week to recount my adventures on your planet. thanks! Frazzi