Making the Galaxy Great

The farmer’s market was spread across the parking lot of a Presbyterian church. The one advantage of his tiny loaner car was that Jason could parallel park in a space between two other cars that was probably too small for even a motorcycle.

Shelby liked the market because there was one vendor that sold homemade cheeses, as well as a local ice cream company that served cones and milkshakes. As they walked up the street, she carried the canvas bag they always brought. Jason saw several men, and a few women, sneaking glances at Evie as she walked by with her long, perfect, highly decorated legs. No doubt she was used to it, but it was new to him to be in the company of someone who drew so much attention.

“This looks like fun,” Evie said as they walked past a stall full of fresh flowers, then another one with various types of jellies and jams.

Shelby took some cash from Jason and ran off to the cheese stall. “Get the one with the pepper,” he told her. Then he headed straight to the first stall that had actual produce – a long folding table covered with a bright yellow cloth banner that read Blessed Buddha Farm and featured a poorly painted image of a Buddha holding a cornucopia. Behind the table, he recognized a middle-aged man with grey and brown hair pulled back in a tight pony tail who greeted him as he approached. “Hey man, good morning.”

“Morning, Bob,” said Jason.

“Pretty veggies,” said Evie as she looked over the heirloom tomatoes, new potatoes and yellow onions spread across the table.

“All organic,” he told her, as if it wasn’t obvious that a farm that invoked the Buddha would only offer food that was organically grown.

Jason pointed to three bushels of corn on the pavement behind the table. “Bob, I’d like to buy all of your corn.”

Bob’s hazy smile drooped and his pony tail jerked back ever so slightly. “Whoa, man. You having a party or something? ’Cause if you are, these beauties are fantastic on the grill. You shuck them, then wrap them back up in the leaves —”

“They’re not for me,” Jason told him. “They’re for some friends.”

“What are you doing?” asked Evie, slightly alarmed. “What friends?”

Jason smiled casually. “Don’t worry. I just want to drop these off with some people who’ll really appreciate them.”

Evie shrugged and went to catch up with Shelby, while Bob from Blessed Buddha helped Jason carry the bushels to the tiny car. There, they discovered only two bushels would fit in the hatch. The third would have to sit next to Shelby in the already cramped back seat. Jason wondered if they’d exceeded the weight capacity of the vehicle.

He walked back with Bob, who thanked him and reminded him that the corn would be great on a grill. (“Charcoal or wood, though; don’t mess with that Earth-hating gas.”) When he found Shelby and Evie, the canvas bag was full of cheese, bread, tomatoes and onions, and both of them were eating ice cream cones.

“We spent all your money,” Shelby informed him.

“Appreciate that,” he told her.

When they left the market, they managed to cram themselves and the bag into the car and Shelby demanded to know why there were three ‘buckets’ of corn in the car. “I don’t really love corn that much,” she reminded him.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, “we’re on our way to drop it off right now.”

He drove the mini-car downtown to the Oasis Mission.

“Is this where we’re going?” asked Evie. “The women’s shelter? This is where you took that big check, right?”

Jason nodded. “Yes and yes.”

“You really think they want all this corn?”

“I know they do.”

Each of them carried a bushel of corn to the front door, where Prince greeted Jason like an old friend. “You brought yourself a couple of fine-looking ladies with you this time,” said the woman who’d rescued him from Twiggy on his last visit. “And some . . . corn.” Jason decided, based on her reaction, that she probably wasn’t an alien, but she was nice enough to open the door for them.

Once inside they set the bushels in the vestibule and Jason was about to ring the bell on the reception desk when he saw Tina approaching from the far end of the sanctuary. The disguised alien had swapped the previous red wig for a black one that looked measurably less appalling.

“Ah, it’s you. What brings you—” Staring at the bushels of corn, Tina’s mouth stopped moving and slowly drooped open. “Fuck me. You brought that for us?”

Jason shrugged. “We were at a farmer’s market, and . . .”

Tina rushed around the counter and hugged him. That was when he discovered that Yrreans have a distinct body odor. Not entirely pleasant, and definitely not human. “Thank you. Thank you thank you.”

“Well,” said Jason, feeling overwhelmed and a little scared that Tina was suddenly so friendly, “We just wanted to drop that off . . .”

But Tina grasped him by the shoulders. “Wait, can you come back to Grace’s office for a second?”

Evie and Shelby shrugged. “We’re good,” said Evie.

Jason followed Tina to the little cubicle under Jesus, where Grace appeared worried when she saw him.

“Don’t worry, he just dropped off three buckets of fresh corn,” said Tina.

“Bushels,” said Jason.

Tina’s head swung back and forth. “Three years and I still can’t get it all right. You people have a different fucking word for everything.”

Grace cut both of them off. “Mr. Fleming, thank you for bringing that to us. You’re going to make eight of our guests very happy.”

“Eight? I thought it was seven.”

Grace pursed her lips and exhaled. “We have another one. And that one had some news, so I can do you a favor, too.”

“What kind of news?”

“About L’harra.”