Page 34 of Prize for the Alien Grumpus

A crow swoops down, snatches her up, and soars away. Her diminutive screams fade into the distance.

"I'll take this one." I hand the merchant his primitive currency.

"Did you see where that lady went?"

"What lady?"

He shrugs and helps me tie the tree to my vehicle. Perfect. Phase one of Operation Holiday Magic complete.

The Earth shopping complex teems with humans like a Rigellian hive mind. Their desperation clogs my enhanced senses - sweat, anxiety, and something called "pumpkin spice."

"Excuse me, sir." A tiny female blocks my path. Her name tag reads 'Brittany.' "You look like someone who needs the perfect gift."

My image inducer must be working well. These humans see exactly what they expect - a large, muscular man in expensive clothing.

"I require items for parental approval units."

"Oh, shopping for the in-laws!" Her smile widens. "Follow me."

The sporting goods section yields what the movies call "golf clubs" - primitive weapons humans use to chase small white spheres. The price seems reasonable - only twelve thousand of their currency units.

"Dad will love these titanium clubs," Brittany chirps.

Next, she leads me to accessories. A leather carrying device catches my eye - the label says "Gucci."

"That's perfect for Mom! So classic."

The lines stretch longer than a Centaurian death march. I resist the urge to shrink-ray the people ahead of me.

"One more thing." Brittany steers me toward gleaming display cases. "For that special someone?"

The red crystal pendant catches the fluorescent lighting, throwing bloodlike shadows. Perfect. It reminds me of the heart of a dying star.

"The ruby heart pendant." Brittany's smile turns predatory. "She'll absolutely love it."

I imagine the gem against Mel's pale throat. The size of a small egg, it would mark her as mine- I mean, show proper appreciation for her assistance.

"I'll take it."

My credit chip, loaded with redistributed wealth, handles the purchases easily. I leave the mall victorious, arms laden with brightly colored bags.

Phase two complete. Now to wrap these acquisitions in festive paper, just like in "The Christmas Prince's Secret Baby Baker."

The weight of shopping bags feels insignificant as I stride through the parking structure. These primitive retail rituals proved more challenging than expected, but victory is mine.

A shadow detaches itself from behind a concrete pillar. The scent of desperation and cheap alcohol hits my nostrils.

"Hey big guy. Nice packages. Hand 'em over."

The human brandishes a blade that would barely pierce my hide. Pathetic.

"I decline your request for redistribution of goods."

"What?" He waves the knife. "Just give me the bags!"

I set my purchases carefully on the ground. No sense damaging Mel's gifts.

"Allow me to demonstrate proper throwing technique."

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