“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU.”

“You said you were hungry.”

“Which didn’t mean I gave you permission to print money!” Nick exploded, “In case you didn’t know, I’m hungry means that I’m malnourished, and I need food soon. This can be achieved legally!”

“But you only have one paper slip with the number ‘one’ printed on it,” Exflibberaguil pointed out. “Excuse me for being unaccustomed to your currency, but I believe the twenty paper slips I’m printing right now would buy much more food.”

“But it’s not right!”

“And sacrificing yourself to starvation and allowing aliens to take over your planet, is?”

Nick sighed. She knew arguing would do no good. Exflibberaguil always found a way to win a debate, whether it be by finding a loophole or by just plain stubbornness. Nick had never expected to meet another person who would be more stubborn than her.

Correction. Exflibberaguil was an alien, not a person, Nick reminded herself.

“Are you coming or not?” Exflibberaguil demanded, after finally figuring out how to open the car door. He held a thick stack of one-dollar bills.

“You go without me,” Nick mumbled. They were parked at a gas station store. Even though they had drove pretty far, Nick was still worried that someone might recognize her. It almost happened when they had been walking on the street. Besides, the smell of gasoline made her nauseas.

Exflibberaguil waved the green bills in the air. “Okay then. Smart of you to let a clueless alien loose with a pile of currency. I’ll just go and spend these then. That is, if I can figure out your currency system.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll join you. But you really need to do something about your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“It’s way too long. Normal human males don’t grow long hair.”

“You’re right. It’s a fire hazard,” Exflibberaguil agreed, “but I can’t cut it now. Are you just trying to stall?”

“No,” Nick lied.

“Come on. You were the one who was hungry in the first place. I can absorb a little energy from the sun. I can survive for another day.”

“I’m coming!” Nick groaned, dragging herself to the door. She pulled it open, inhaling the putrid smell of gas and old cigarettes. Gagging, she made her way to the store, Exflibberaguil following close behind.

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The brightly lit store smelled no better, with the stink of urine floating in through the bathroom door. Exflibberaguil wrinkled his tall nose, but made no comment.

“Not all of our stores are this bad,” Nick told him under her breath.

She gravitated toward the snack aisle, giving a brief lecture about the good and bad brands.

“Are there any rabbit-repelling snacks?” Exflibberaguil asked.

“No.”

“Ah! A shame.” A pause. “Then what’s the point of snacks anyway?”

“Exflipper,” Nick sighed impatiently, “not everything revolves around rabbits. There’s such a thing as entertainment and recreation. Snacks were invented simply to taste good.”

“But they aren’t healthy.”

“Taste good,” Nick repeated, stressing the words. Nick already had enough about her unhealthy eating habits from her friends. She didn’t need an alien commenting on her diet as well.

“But why can’t snacks have a purpose?” Exflibberaguil persisted. “I know what entertainment is. Bubbles, for example.”

“Yes! Bubbles! Exactly! If I asked you what’s the point of you blowing bubbles, what would you say?”

“Mostly for protection. Bubble solution stings your eyes, making it an effective distraction. Bubbles also make rabbits sneeze, especially the solutions infused with pepper. Additionally—”

Nick groaned. “Okay. Bad example. Let’s take something else. Say…you’re colorful food. What’s the point of adding color to food? You could have just served a perfectly plain plate of food, but still have it be nutritious. The color just adds the extra. You see what I’m saying?”

“Stimulating your color taste buds can help you see and smell better, as well as develop a more sophisticated palate. This can be helpful in many ways. For example, some aliens have been able to see the color red whenever they smelled poisonous food. That brings me to--”

“Rabbits. Yes, yes, I know.” Exflibberaguil had been ranting on about rabbit defense mechanisms during the car ride. One extreme defense rabbits use is known as poisoning themselves. Whenever they sense the end is near, they poison themselves in hopes that the predator dies with them. If Nick developed advanced color taste buds, she may be even able to smell the poison and recognize it with the color red. This will reduce the amount of animal deaths.

Exflibberaguil stared at a pack of cookies. “You know, this food could really be useful. Maybe they could add some sort of subtle rabbit repellent that rabbits will smell and stay away from you. Or maybe—”

“Exflipper, have you ever considered that not everything has to be a weapon?”

“Then what’s the point—”

“There is no point. It’s just a completely pointless circle.”

“Ah! I see…” Exflibberaguil murmured, sinking into silence.

She hurried to the counter, eager to get out of the foul building. The cashier glared at her with thick, bushy eyebrows as she counted out the one dollar bills. Exflibberaguil could only replicate one-dollar bills because that was all Nick had.

“Oh, and sir? Can I exchange these for a few fives, tens, and twenties?” Nick asked sweetly, pushing forward a mound of bills.

The cashier grunted a reply, making Nick slightly nostalgic, remembering her bus driver. Meanwhile, Exflibberaguil’s eyes became wider and wider, as he watched the transaction with fascination.

Nick thanked the grumpy cashier, and darted out of the store. “Give me the keys,” she ordered Exflibberaguil.

“The door is already open, if that’s what you mean.”

Nick groaned. Exflibberaguil was always a step in front of her.