Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Not that he blamed her. He had seldom met a female who had a love for insects or arachnids and almost no one—male or female—would have enjoyed most of the “prandial delights” served to them during the lecture. The last one, especially, had tasted positively rancid.
But it was clear that the people here on Priima Belle had such jaded palates they wanted to taste only “sophisticated” dishes. Chain wondered with concern if anything Victoria could dream up would please them. Was any of the cuisine of Earth as exotic as spider-carried cakes or rotten, oozing buns?
He just didn’t know but he supposed he—and everyone else in the lecture hall—was about to find out.
Chapter Nineteen
Vicky felt dizzy as she climbed the steps to the stage.
Holy God, I’m drunk, she thought somewhat fuzzily as she nearly missed a step. Crap, never tried to teach drunk before. This is going to be one for the record books.
She still had no idea what she was going to say as she made her way behind the blue curtain to where Professor Lornah was waiting for her.
“Well—there you are,” the other woman sniffed in apparent distaste. “I thought you’d never get up here. Everyone is waiting, you know. And I’m sure everyone is eager to see what you’re going to serve up after your, shall we say, rather unique reaction to my own lecture.”
“Sorry about that,” Vicky said, hoping her words didn’t sound slurred. “I’m not good with spiders—even ones that just want to feed me cake. Especially ones that want to feed me cake,” she added with a shudder.
“Well!” If possible, Professor Lornah looked even more offended. “I guess the people of your world just aren’t sophisticated enough to deal with an arachnid-delivered delicacy.”
“No,” Vicky said bluntly, “They’re not. The people of my world mostly grab a shoe and start swinging when a spider as big as a cat runs at their face.”
“Even when the spider—arachnid—is only delivering a morsel of cake?” Professor Lornah demanded.
“Sorry.” Vicky shrugged. “I’m afraid we smash first and ask questions later when it comes to bugs the size of small pets.”
“On Priima Belle, ‘bugs’ as you call them, often are pets,” Professor Lornah exclaimed. “Why, I have a dear little Klik beetle as long as my arm at home named Poncy. She’s so affectionate—sits right on my shoulder and nibbles my ear with her mandibles whenever she wants a treat.”
Vicky tried to imagine having a large bug for a pet and failed. The part about letting the bug sit on your shoulder and nibble your ear was the worst, she decided. But it certainly explained why the people in the audience hadn’t flinched or freaked out when the cake-bearing spiders had crawled on them. Probably they felt about their bugs the way people back home on Earth felt about their cats and dogs. It might also explain why the Insect University was so much larger and grander than the rest of the buildings she’d seen on this odd alien campus so far.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Professor Lornah again. “Where I come from, we consider bugs pests—not pets. We don’t keep them around for company—we exterminate them.”
“Pests? Exterminate them? How awful!” the other woman exclaimed. “How can you do such a thing to such sweet, loving creatures?”
She was looking at Vicky the same way Vicky might look at someone who declared they hit stray dogs or cats with their car on purpose. Clearly this was a sore point.
And I went and put my foot right in it, Vicky thought sourly. Shouldn’t have drunk so much of that stuff at the table. I would have known better if I wasn’t so tipsy!
“I’m sorry,” she said again, not sure how to smooth things over. “Bugs are…different on my world. They’re not, uh, cute.”
Not that she thought the bugs she’d seen on Priima Belle were in any way cute or attractive either, but it was clear that was how the residents here thought of them.
“Never mind—we don’t have time to debate the obvious deficiency of your species’ moral fiber,” Professor Lornah snapped. “The audience will be getting restless. Here—put on the thought-to-matter transference helm so you can lecture properly.”
As she spoke, she pulled the tall, metal crown-looking thing off her own head and jammed it down on Vicky’s.
“Ouch!” Vicky put up her hands to steady and adjust the crown—which rose a clear three feet above her head. But the edges already appeared to have melded to her skin. “Hey—it won’t come off,” she objected, feeling frightened when she couldn’t get the tall crown to so much as budge.
“Of course it won’t—not until you give your lecture and give it something to transmit into matter,” Professor Lornah snapped. “Now be quiet—the curtain is rising and I must introduce you.”
As she spoke, the royal blue curtain rose once more, revealing the expectant faces of the audience which filled the entire huge lecture hall.