Interns

The alien ambassador plrtzglurb slithered on the floor like a giant snail. Shaped mostly like an ooze slime monster from old DnD games, the ambassador had a somewhat large gaping hole in the middle of where a human chest would be. An axe-like bulge erupted from the forehead of the ambassador.

In his culture, a popular tale for children would explain the anatomical bulge. In the tale, plurtzes didn't always have axe-like bulges. Thousands of years ago, they we

re living as hunted creatures on their planet by a race of hunters. The hunters were vicious and cruel but lived by a code. Only a direct axe kill to the soft, middle part of the frontal brain of a plurtz would allow the hunter to finish its kill and take it home.

Any other form of attack, injury or missed target would result in shame and retreat, leaving the wounded plurtz to try and survive its injuries.

Thus, only the plurtzes who could withstand a single blow to their heads - by pure luck or mutation - were the ones naturally selected to carry offspring. Over time, it became their prominent feature as their fight with the hunters never ended.

The plurtzes were a strange folk. They were rumored to be the best problem solvers in the universe. The best mediators. The quickest thinkers.

However, the really strange thing about them was that they only uttered one word per galactic year. Whether by choice or force, only one word came out of each plurtz's mouth once a galactic spin around itself.

The ambassador was about to show everyone if those rumors were truth or fiction.

Suddenly, the hole where a human chest would be started shaking. It belched and puffed and shrunk and belted. Before anyone could react, the ambassador went "bluhhhhhhhhh" and a wet ball of plasma liquid came spouting out of the hole, making a mess on the floor.

Without losing one step, the ambassador moved towards the messy puddle and started licking it vigorously.

This happened in plurtz culture. And it was one of their defining features. It was told that the time they spend cleaning up their own mess is the time given to them to consider problems and issues brought before them. Once they finish clearing the mess, they utter their annual word, which is said to resolve any conflict - big or small.

The ambassador plurtzglurb was ignoring the looks of disgust around the room and kept cleaning his mess with every absorbant part of his body.

3 hours passed. The ambassador was taking his final licks off the floor and turned to the 2 warring parties.

He was about to say his annual word, and the room was pungent with anticipation.

"Mr. Ambassador?" Said one intern.

"Forgive me for asking, but if your talent is to resolve any issue with one word, how come you haven't resolved your own war with the hunters yet?"

Plurtzglurb looked at the intern. His hole opened, and he went: "bluhhhhhhhhhhh".