BAR TALK

Hey, what’s happening?

Not much, eh?

No, no, we haven’t met. But I’m here to brighten your day. I got a story you aren’t going to believe ... No, no, I’m not looking for money, and I’m not drunk. This is my first beer. I just seen you come in, and I was sitting over there by my lonesome, and I says to myself, self, there’s a guy that could use some company.

Sure you can. Everyone needs some company. And you look like a guy that likes to hear a first-class story, and that’s just the kind of story I got: first class.

Naw, this isn’t going to take too long. I’ll keep it short.

You see, I’m a spy.

No, no, no. Not that kind of spy. No double-ought stuff. I’m not working for the CIA or the KGB. I work for Mudziplickt.

Yeah, I know you never heard of it. Few have.

Just us Martians.

Oh yeah, that’s right. I said Martians. I’m from Mars

No, I tell you, I’m not drunk.

Well, it doesn’t matter what the scientists or the space probes say. I’m from Mars.
You see, we Martians have been monitoring this planet of your for years, and now with you guys landing up there, saying there’s no life and all, we figure things are getting too close for comfort, so we’ve decided to beat you to it and come down here. I’m what you might call part of the advance landing force. A spy, so to speak. You see, we Martians aren’t visible to your satellite cameras. Has to do with light waves, and an ability we have to make ourselves blend with the landscape. Chameleon-like, you might say. And we’d just scare you anyway if you saw us. We’d look pretty strange to you Earthlings.

Oh this. This isn’t the real me. Just a body I made up out of protoplasmic energy.

The way I talk? Oh, I know your culture well. I’ve studied it for years. I’ve even got a job.

Huh?

Oh. Well, I’m telling you all this for one simple reason. We Martians can adapt to almost everything on this world-even all this oxygen. But the food, that’s a problem. We find alcohol agrees pretty well with us, but the food makes us sick. Sort of like you going down to Mexico and eating something off a street vendor’s cart and getting ill ... only it’s a lot worse for us.

Blood is the ticket.

Yeah, human blood.

Find that funny, huh? Vampires from Mars? Yeah, does sound like a cheap science-fiction flick, doesn’t it?

You see-ho, hold it. Almost fell off your stool there. No, I don’t think the beer here is that strong. There, just put your head on the bar. Yeah, weak, I understand. I know why you’re feeling that way. It’s this little tube that comes out of my side, through the slit in my clothing. I stuck it in you when I sat down here. Doesn’t hurt. Has a special coating on it, a natural anesthesia, you might say. That’s why you didn’t notice. Actually, if you could see me without this human shell, you’d find I’m covered with the things. Sort of like a big jellyfish, only cuter.

Just rest.

No use trying to call out. Nothing will work now. The muscles in your throat just won’t have enough strength to make your voice work. They’re paralyzed. The fluid that keeps the tube from hurting you also deadens the nerves and muscles in your body, while allowing me to draw your blood.

There’s some folks looking over here right now, but they aren’t thinking a thing about it. They can’t see the tube from this angle; just me smiling, and you looking like a passed-out drunk. They think it’s kind of funny, actually. They’ve seen drunks before.
Yeah, that’s it. Just relax. Go with the flow, as you people say. Can’t really do anything else but that anyway. Won’t be a drop of blood left in you in a few seconds anyway. I’ll have it all and I’ll feel great. Only food here that really agrees with us. That and a spot of alcohol now and then.

But I’ve told you all that. There, I’m finished. I feel like a million dollars.

Don’t know if you can still hear me or not, but I’m taking the tube out now. Thanks for the nourishment. Nothing personal. And don’t worry about the beer you ordered. I’ll pay for it on the way out. It’s the least I can do.

© 1990 Joe R. Lansdale.
"Bar Talk" was originally published in 1990 in New Blood #7. It later appeared in A Fist Full of Stories (and Articles), a collection of Lansdale’s short stories (and articles) published by CD Publications.