“What clan do you guys belong to?” Sandra asks, glancing between the two Clown-dathians. “Was it Magmas clan?” she adds, scrunching her face.
“Close. It’s Magaxus. At least one of you is paying attention,” Demon Egg-Head answers, shooting me an accusing glare.
I swear to God, I’m going to strangle him!
“A godly clan,” he continues, his tone almost reverent. “We honor the sacred words, reject technology, and shun the weak and the soft—unlike the decadent lands of Draxxus, the aloof Sanaxus, or the haughty Astranix. The crags of Scarn are our cradle, the molten rivers our sustenance, Arawnoth’s teachings our nourishment. We are the embodiment of the Gods’ will.”
“Riiight…” I roll my eyes at his cult-like sermon. “That’s a whole lot of words to say you’re savages living in mud huts.”
Of course. I get abducted by the stinky-hole-in-the-ground clan instead of the hot-showers-relaxing-by-the-poolside clan. I could just cry.
“I wouldn’t expect such a soft, fleshy creature to understand our ways,” Demon Egg-Head sneers, gearing up for another one of his mocking rants. “Your very existence is an affront to the natural order, to the will of the—”
“Enough, you old gas-cloud,” Dracoth cuts in with a bored grumble. “You’re frightening the females.”
I’m not frightened, just really, really disappointed, but Sandra looks a bit shaken—biting her lip and staring down at her hands.
“Truth frightens the ignorant. Let them wallow in harsh realities so their hearts grow stronger,” Demon Egg-Head insists, his gaze sliding over to me. “Or burst,” he adds with a sneer.
I might burst his nose with my fist!
“Wow, that’s so wise and definitely not creepy,” I reply with a smile that’s all teeth and no warmth, placing a hand over my heart. “I just hope one day to be as smart and backward as you.” My voice drips with syrupy sarcasm.
Demon Egg-Head surprises me with a brief chuckle, just as a gray-haired Clown-dathian approaches, balancing a wooden tray laden with sizzling plates and jugs.
“Enjoy,” he mutters, setting out the delicious-smelling food that’s making my mouth water.
I stare at the bowl of steaming thick brown liquid with chunks of colorful... stuff floating in it. Beside it is a plate with a sizzling fish—thankfully lacking eyeballs, tentacles, or any other horrific features. It’s just an overly large cut of shimmering white meat with orange garnish and red leafy vegetables... or at least I think they’re vegetables.
Sandra and I exchange a quick, wide-grinned glance, and I shrug, grabbing a comically large spoon. God, I never thought I’d be so excited for fish and veggies, but a week of jelly sticks will do that to anyone.
I waste no time spooning some soup from the massive bowl. The chunky, thick liquid almost burns my mouth with its slightly charred and spicy flavors. Its hearty warmth fills my stomach, spreading to the tips of my toes and ends of my fingers. This would be the perfect dish for a skiing trip.
A series of disturbing munching and gnawing noises pulls my attention upward. To a scene of savagery: Dracoth and Demon Egg-Head tearing into their fish like wild animals, their long claws gleaming as they rip huge chunks into their mouths.Gross. Why don’t they use knives and forks? Or is that technology too advanced for the hole-in-the-ground clan?
Wait... I glance back down at my tray, finding a distinct and disturbing lack of utensils.
“Um...” I mutter, scanning the other’s plates, hoping mine just got misplaced.
“This is delicious!” Sandra exclaims, using her ladle-like spoon like a snowplow, shoveling through her massive bowl of soup.
“Yeah, but... where are the utensils?” I frown, gesturing at her tray.
“Hmm.” Sandra glances behind her plate and bowl. “Hah, I never even noticed that!” she says with a grin, like this is totally normal.
Of course. When I finally get some edible food, there’s no way to actually eat it! I suppress a sigh, trying to ignore the disgusting sounds of the two Clown-dathians devouring their meals like something from a nature documentary. My anger and frustration bubble up, threatening to boil over.
Relax, Lexie! Remember, you are the toilet.
The surprisingly calming mantra takes the edge off my frustration, allowing me to take a deep breath.
“You have utensils, foolish human,” Demon Egg-Head says, holding up his spoon like he’s just solved some great mystery. His smug expression obliterates the last of my thin veneer of calm.
“No, this is afucking spoon!” I shout, waving the stupid ladle in his stupid face. “We”—I gesture between Sandra and myself—“don’t have giant claws in which to cut our food... DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” I snap, my jaw clenched tight.
Suddenly, I’m yanked forward with a painful jerk, slamming into the massive table.
“You forget your place, female!” Dracoth roars, his face inches from mine, his huge fangs glinting in the firelight, like a dragon about to swallow me whole. Surprise and terror’s icy hand clutch my chest.
