“Oof!” she gasped—that’s heavy!”
“Here, let me, little Terra.” V’rone quickly took the heavy pot for her, which was apparently the butter and Tem handled the pot which contained the jam.
The utensils the giant daisies used were huge and heavy—Terra felt like she was holding an enormous chef’s knife when she went to spread the light, sweet-smelling butter on her slice of hot bread. When she took a nibble, she found it was delicious—salty and sweet with a slight hint of some alien spice like cinnamon or maybe cardamom.
The jam, however, was black. Not really dark purple like grape or black-raspberry jam—it was as black as tar and just as gooey. Terra tried a little bit of it on a corner of her bread, just to be polite, but found it had an odd, metallic taste and an almost meaty texture. She decided to stick with the butter, which was much lighter and tasted much better.
I guess I really shouldn’t fill up on bread, but I don’t see how I can avoid it, she thought, as she ate the hot, fresh piece of bread coated in pink butter. But other dishes were coming to the table now and since she still had room on her plate—which was the circumference of a large truck tire—she supposed she ought to try them.
First was a bowl of what seemed to be nuts and seeds mixed in a tangy, tart dressing. Terra took a scoop of it and tried some, finding it delicious. She wondered if this was the Froozles idea of a salad. She still hadn’t seen any kind of plants or leafy greens but she supposed that wasn’t surprising, since the Froozles themselves were plants.
Next came a kind of savory porridge with little chunks of roasted meat and a dark brown gravy to pour over it. That was delicious too, though Terra was beginning to feel full at this point.
“Save room for the best course, my dear,” the king daisy told her. “Ahh—here it comes now!”
Terra looked up in time to see a massive platter, as big as a car door, being placed on the table in front of her. On it were crispy brown roasted carcasses all threaded together on a long spit. They reminded her of rotisserie chicken but they smelled like roasted pork. Strangely, though, they didn’t look like chicken or pork. They looked like…
“Gods,” V’rone whispered hoarsely beside her. “Are those what I think they are?”
“Pit-roasted skinkles!” the king daisy exclaimed. “My very favorite!”
He reached for the platter and pulled several of the browned carcasses off the spit. Popping them into his mouth, he crunched loudly.
Watching him, Terra saw for the first time how very long and sharp his teeth were. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach as she saw the tiny humanoid carcasses being devoured up and down the table. Then she remembered something she’d read about the Donner Party—the group of pioneers who had been stuck in the mountains in winter and had been forced to resort to cannibalism.
They said human meat tasted like pork, she thought, feeling her stomach do a slow forward roll at the memory. Just like roasted pork.
So that was why there had been a whole pen of the little skinkles near the daisies’ kitchen. And it was also the reason she’d thought she smelled roasted pork coming from their ovens.
Ugh, think I’m going to be sick! She suddenly wished she hadn’t accepted the king’s invitation to dinner. It made her wonder what else was in the food she had already eaten. That tarry, black jam for instance—hadn’t it had a weird metallic aftertaste? What if it was made of blood? And what about the chunks of meat in the porridge? Had she already unwittingly eaten some of the little skinkles?
Looking at her guys, Terra could see the same look on their faces that she felt on her own. Everyone was disgusted and somewhat nauseated. Well, at least she wasn’t the only one who disliked the idea of eating the little humanoids!
“Do you not like the meal, my dear?” the king daisy enquired, snapping Terra out of her thoughts as he popped a few more roasted skinkles into his mouth.
“Oh, uh, it’s delicious.” Terra tried to smile at him. “I think I just filled up on bread, that’s all.”
“But you must try some of the roasted skinkle—it’s our specialty!” the king insisted. “Here…” And he pulled one of the brown, crispy carcasses off the spit and deposited it on her plate.
Terra didn’t know what to do. She was certain if she tried to take a bite of the awful meat she was going to be sick, which would almost certainly be seen as an insult. But if she didn’t take a bite, she would also be insulting the king.
Why, oh why did I accept his dinner invitation? If I just would have refused we could be in the next world by now!