[b]THUNK[/b]
"Whoops!"
[b]THUD[/b]
"Sorry!"
[b]BANG[/b]
"Aw, [i]clams![/i]", the girl hissed as her tentacles fiddled with dials and levers spread out across a poorly-rigged instrument board dominated by a large red button marked GO. She was a mermaid from the northern tribes, floating upside-down in a thick glass capsule filled with water, which was itself attached to a bizarre ceramic disk-shaped device studded with what appeared to be yellowish marbles of some kind. The whole assembly floated in air as if by magic and rotated slowly around the Z-axis as the girl fiddled with the console and muttered to herself.

"Alright, Proco. You can do this. Altitude steady, pitch parallel to the ground, yaw set to thirty degrees starboard..."

She punched a button, the craft streaking forward like a startled horse and missing an older gentleman's head by mere inches. She was brought to an equally sudden stop when her craft slammed abruptly into a stall advertising some local delicacy known only as "Meat Onna Stick", leaving a deep dent in one of the stall supports. 

"Sorry! This is only a prototype, see, so-"
[color=fff200]"Ay, I don't care about any a' dat, lady!"[/color], the vendor, a swarthy, bearded man, shook some kind of kebab at the flying saucer, [color=fff200]"What I wanna know is if you're gonna buy some a' dis here meat on a stick!"[/color]
"Oh."
Proco eyed the dent. Maybe he just hadn't noticed? Maybe topsiders just didn't care about property damage. She sure hoped so- Proco hadn't brought a whole lot of money to begin with.
"...What kind of meat?"
[color=fff200]"Eh?"[/color]
"What kind of meat is it?"
[color=fff200]"Stick meat. Meat on a stick. You can read, can't ya?"[/color]
"But-"
[color=fff200]"-But what?"[/color]
"...On second thought, I don't think topsider meat would sit very well with me."
[color=fff200]"Ey, suit yaself, kid."[/color]

Proco rotated the Octo Slug Mk. I (patent pending) once more, streaking off towards a small bazaar. The craft halting its momentum by slamming into a nearby wall. She checked her craft's face, adjusted, prayed that she wouldn't hit anything, hit the ignition button...

...And ran full on into some wiry nerd with sideburns for days, the impact letting out a sound, meaty [b]THUMP[/b]. She righted herself, unscrewing a hatch that lay at the bottom (or top, depending on your perspective) of the machine. Throwing open the hatch, she hauled herself out of the hole and looked over the edge of the disk.

[i]Okay Proco, now it's time to put your knowledge of surface culture and dialect to the test. What was the traditional topsider response to accidentally running someone over?[/i]

"[i]S-sufferin' coelacanths[/i], buddy! Even a topsider like you should know how to cross the street! Didn't your mother ever teach you to look both ways first?", she folded her arms and shook her head, "What if this had been a cart or something? You would've been squashed flat!"

[i]Nailed it![/i]