The X problem (Weekend freewrite)

I turned. Mr Hallaron walked over. He'd put his hat on and was pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. His half-hearted attempt to quit smoking had been completely thwarted by the recent events.
'I can't take this anymore. This whole story is getting out of hand. I wish I could shoot them all and be done with this business'.
This last part was said in a hushed tone, as there was no knowing if they were listening and, if they did, they wouldn't be pleased with their buddy Hall, as they called the mayor.
'You need to go in there and talk to them again', he said gripping my arm with an unnecessary force, like a drowning man grabbing at a floating piece of wood. The sad part was that if he was to drown, so to speak, he wouldn't be going down alone.
The Xinians had been most specific - they'll raise the whole town to the ground if their orders weren't carried out to the letter. To demonstrate that, Limpy pressed a button on his little hand-held device and Mr.Northrop' s garden shed was reduced to a heap of ash in the bat of an eye.
Fatso was the captain of the Xinian ship that had landed on the edge of the town, right next to the Northrop property five days before. His real name was something that sounded like Llympiornthorgern, so we settled on Limpy. He didn't seem to mind.
The Xinians didn't seem to mind anything as long as we kept them supplied with 'vitals' while they conducted their study of Earth. By vitals they meant booze and not just any kind of booze. While some members of the crew were happy to down a bottle of Jack Daniels a day, Limpy and the commanding officers were now demanding French champagne.
'That's because some idiot told them Veuve Clicquot is one of the most prized beverages on Earth', Halloran said treating me with a withering glare.
That idiot was me. As the school headmaster and professor of social studies I had been nominated liaison officer with the alien crew. Not to say that they'd taken up headquarters in my school, since our only hotel could accommodate a party of thirty.

The doors slid open soundlessly, revealing the complete and utter chaos that I had been sent to fix. A bunch of rowdy Xinians were howling in a corner of the assembly room, but judging by their grinning faces they were most probably singing.
On the other hand, Limpy and his second in command, Fatso, were angry the champagne had not arrived. All Xinians were short and fat, but this Fatso guy was round as a barrel - which made one wonder what did the rest of their population looked like since these were presumably the best of their kind or at least good enough to be entrusted with a space-ship and sent on an exploration mission. Yet, even if the crewmen seemed clumsy and, frankly, not too bright, their weapons were sharp enough to command our respect.
I tried to explain to Limpy that none of the stores in our little town held bottles of French Champagne and the only way we could get it for them was to ask Washington for it, which of course meant deactivating the defense barrier they had established around town long enough to let a delivery truck come in. The corners of both his mouths turned sharply down when he heard my plan. The two orifices on the lower parts of their faces were smaller than a normal mouth and could be used independently. A Xinian was able to carry on a normal conversation out of one of his mouths, while stuffing food in the other, or rather slurping the green goo they called food.
For the time being, Limpy employed both orifices to scream at me. The automatically translated verbal assault sounded quite funny:
'We ask champagne and you no bring. Why it, sir? Why it, you son of a she-dog?'
Only it wasn't funny. On top of that, one of the officers had been badly scratched by old Mrs. Northrop tabby cat and they demanded that she be executed. The cat, not Mrs. Northrop. Or at least I hoped not. It was hard to explain to the Xinians they concept of pets or animals in general. On their home planet, they were the only higher life form, the other inhabitants being a species of insects that where some sort of bees and a crab-like creature with powerful claws which they had trained to dig in the gardens.
I promised Limpy both problems will be taken care of and as I left the school grounds a plan was already forming in my mind.

The phone began to ring as soon as I was out on the street. Halloran, of course.
'I think I know how we can fix the champagne problem. Just have Hank bring in two crates of whatever champagne he has in store and I'll just have my boy print out some fancy labels for them'.
The mayor didn't sound too happy. Some hotshots in Washington had a special-ops stationed on the outskirts of town, just waiting to come in and the delivery truck ruse seemed the perfect opportunity. The Xinians had made it very clear they were here to study the locals in their 'native habitat', which sounded vaguely offensive to me, and didn't want any contact with the authorities. If their ship was in any way vulnerable to our weapons, Washington had no way to find out. The armored vehicle the army had tried to run through the invisible barrier has been pulverized, along with the personnel inside. So, all the army bosses could do was phone Halloran 20 times a day.
Their latest idea was that we put some sleeping pills in the champagne, which was quite crazy. I told Halloran some were hooked on whiskey and beer. If Xinians started to fall to the ground, one of them might get suspicious and blast our town off the face of the Earth.
'And do tell Mrs. Northrop to hide that cat in the cellar or else she'll end up in front of a firing squad. The cat, not Mrs. Northrop. I hope', I said. The guys in Washington had to understand our asses were on the line.
I had just successfully got the Xinians drunk on our finest French champagne we had produced just for them, when another problem came up.
'They want company'.
'What?!'
'You know, women, they want to throw a party. They're bored...'
'Why don't they go home if their bored. They don't seem to be doing much studying and exploring anyway'.
Halloran was besides himself at this point, for our town was small and there really weren't many - let's call them - easy women. Crazy Rose had stopped turning tricks a few years back and now ran an organic garden.
The small committee in charge of the X problem was huddled in Halloran's office. We had until evening to come up with a solution. We all turned our heads when Halloran's secretary barged in with the news that a smaller Xinian ship had just landed on the other side of town and the leader wanted to talk to the mayor.
'Oh, fuck my life', the poor man sighed as we rushed to his car.
Captain Mwellprothny was much better looking than the first lot. Not taller, but muscular and quite fit, by the looks of it. And with just cause, as it turned out.
Limpy and his crew were nothing but a bunch of lowlifes who had stolen a ship two Xenians months before and had been wandering the galaxy, drinking and partying. Earth was the sixth planet they had 'invaded'.
'Our most sincere apologies', the captain said bowing to the mayor.
While the merry-makers were being shackled and transported back to the ship, Halloran got a new call from Washington. This time surely the Xinians will want to meet.
Captain Mwellprothny declined politely, but firmly: 'Deeply sorry, but we have enough problems of our own'.

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge, the weekend special three-prompt edition.
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Images: 1, 2.