FLASH FICTION – 3TC

After the campfire fiasco, Zog decided to try a new tactic: diplomacy.

Earth’s dominant species seemed fickle — maybe he’d start smaller, less threatening. Something furry. Something approachable.

A rustle in the bushes caught his attention. Out waddled a creature wearing a black mask and an air of criminal intent.

Perfect.

Zog approached the raccoon with the careful craft of a seasoned negotiator. He extended a hand in peace, unfurling his long, bony fingers.

The raccoon hissed like a leaky airlock and darted straight up a nearby tree, pausing only to flash what Zog could only interpret as a crude gesture.

Zog stared up at the creature, mildly offended.

Unprovoked hostility, he noted. Earth’s furry diplomats are clearly unschooled in intergalactic protocol.

Next came a squirrel, jittering across the grass like it had double-dosed its caffeine. Zog tried again, this time holding out a shiny object — the universal sign of goodwill. It was a small, sparkling fragment of his ship’s engine shaft — worth at least seven carats in galactic trade markets.

The squirrel paused, staring at him with bug-eyed suspicion.

Gathering himself, Zog attempted verbal communication, channeling what he imagined was a polite, Earth-tone greeting. “Greetings, noble fur-being,” he intoned.

The squirrel froze, twitched twice, and in a burst of panicked energy, grabbed the shaft-fragment and bolted up the nearest tree like Zog had just proposed marriage.

Zog was left holding nothing but air.

Ungrateful cretin, he thought, watching his precious carat-rich peace offering disappear into the branches. And rude.

Finally, salvation appeared in the form of a cat. Sleek, poised, exuding the kind of confidence Zog recognized in high-ranking diplomats. This was it — the breakthrough.

He crouched low, attempting the proper Earth greeting he had seen in a hastily downloaded YouTube video: he slowly extended his hand and blinked once, slowly and respectfully.

The cat blinked back.

Success, Zog thought, feeling a flicker of pride.

The cat sauntered over, tail high. Zog held his breath.

Then, with the precision only Earth’s apex predators possess, the cat let out a sharp, dismissive hiss and slapped Zog’s extended fingers with a level of disdain that transcended species and language.

Zog recoiled in shock, clutching his hand as the cat turned its back on him. He exhaled, defeated — but the humiliation wasn’t complete.

The cat circled back and, in a final act of casual dominance, brushed against Zog’s shin — a lazy, almost bored flick of fur — before trotting away, leaving him officially, cosmically dismissed.

Earth’s furry creatures, Zog thought bitterly, are not merely rude — they are master craftsmen of insult. Their entire culture must be built on the fine craft of disdain.

He sat back down, deflated, watching the raccoon rifle through a trash can, the squirrel hoard his carat-rich offering, and the cat settle under a tree, licking its paw like it hadn’t just shattered Zog’s last shred of dignity.

Mon had definitely left out a few important details.

Earth girls are easy, he’d said. No one mentioned Earth’s animals were savage diplomats with a mean left hook.

Zog sighed and made a mental note.

---

Zoglog Entry 02221477

Subject: Earth — Diplomatic Mission
Findings:

• Raccoons: Unprovoked hostility.
• Squirrels: Zero negotiation stamina; prone to theft.
• Cats: Highly trained insult artisans.

Conclusion: Earth’s furry lifeforms are uncivilized, combative, and suspiciously smug. Recommend caution. Also, recommend gloves.

---