Indian Dancing
Our room was on the second floor with a balcony, so we could watch and be watched from the street. George likes to watch. If you’ve never been there, the densely packed crowd on the street always wants strip shows. Anybody with tits, and even some without, will hear screams of ‘Show ’em! Show ’em!’ Usually it’s drunken college girls who flash the audience, only to be mortified when they are untagging their pictures on Facebook. Jess and I don’t drink (we’re not legal, even if George would let us) but we like to dance and show off, so we were on the ‘stage’ with ginger ale that had maraschino cherries in it to look alcoholic. We waved, and wiggled, and incited while Mardi Gras Beads flew like bats in the dusk around us. Finally I ‘accidentally’ spilled my drink on my very white tee shirt, and silly me, I was wearing no bra! The pack howled! Jess stepped behind me, Amazon that she is, and jerked my shirt up so that the masses got a good look. ‘Marry me!’ washed over us. I turned to. On deeper questioning we found that some had skills I could use. Not all were associated with the military but some were. One happened to be the chief armourer for a mob family.When I finished with the men, they appeared normal. They saw me as their rightful king. They would do what I wanted until I sent them home one day. Their conditioning would gradually fade and I would have to renew it in a few years. In the mean time, I would have to find a long term treatment if they were ever going to return to Earth.The evidence box was sorted and checked for fingerprints. Later that day two more AK casings were added and Camsa was able to smudge the prints through the bag and I just hoped it was enough.When Mom and Dad came home they looked happier. We had cleaned out their house in the mean time and even started a meal. Everybody was sitting around the table now.Dad asked, "Are you going to continue with the story you started?" I have to talk to somebody to get the men here called off."Mom.
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