Keith Laumer

“ Let's go, Cecil."
"What's the charge?"
"First degree murder."
"Who'd I murder?"
"Why, you killed this here ... this stranger."
"That ain't no stranger. That's a varmint. Murder's got to do with killin' humerns, way I understand it. You goin' to tell me that thing's humern?"
Ten people shouted at once:
"—human as I am!"
"—intelligent being!"
"—tell me you can simply kill—"
"—must be some kind of law—"
The sheriff raised his hands, his jowls drawn down in a scowl. "What about it, Judge Gates? Any law against Cecil Stump killing the ... uh...?" ”

“ I'm as liberal-minded as the next feller. Hell, I like a nigger—and I can't hardly tell a Jew from a white man. But when it comes to takin' in a damned purple worm and callin' it humern—that's where I draw the line."
Sheriff Hoskins pushed between Stump and the surging front rank of the crowd. ”

“ Someone coughed.
"What about a man who commits a violent act, then?" Judge Gates demanded. "What's he, eh?"
"That's obvious, gentlemen," the senator said flatly. "He's vermin."
On the courthouse steps Cecil Stump stood, hands in hip pockets, talking to a reporter from the big-town paper in Mattoon, surrounded by a crowd of late-comers who had missed the excitement inside. ”

“ Ten minutes after the melodious voice of the Fianna's translator had requested escort to the village headman, the visitor was looking over the crowded courtroom with an expression reminiscent of a St. Bernard puppy hoping for a romp. ”

“ Hunters aren't going to like it—and the meat industry will be affected. But if, as it appears, we're entering into an era of contact with ... ah ... creatures from other worlds, we've got to get our house in order. ”