them. I tried to communicate by wiggling my tentacles in the sarlacc language: “Greetings, gentle beings! Fear not, I do not consume animal flesh, by choice. Come into my presence, especially if you have some nice juicy leaves to share!” But they saw my tentacles waving, and shrank farther out of my reach. After that, the flying constructs showed up regularly, and each time, a screaming person would plummet into my mouth—no matter how much I tried to say, “Uh, I appreciate the thought, but really, no thanks.”
