Read Online MA08 Myth-Nomers and Im-Pervections by Robert Asprin - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Asprin
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might be described as “enterprising,” the hustlers struck me more as “predatory.”
They were as brightly dressed as any Imp, though they tended to hang back in the shadows, easing out to make muttered offers to passersby. What they were selling I was never sure, since none of them approached me directly. This is not to say they didn’t notice my passing, for they watched me with flat reptilian eyes, but something in what they saw apparently convinced them to leave me alone. I can’t say I was heartbroken by the omission.
I was so intent on watching the watchers I almost missed our restaurant. Kalvin spotted it, though, and after he’d brought it to my attention, we went in.
Way back when I first met Aahz, I had been exposed to a Pervish restaurant. Of course, that was at the Bazaar where there was an ordinance that Pervish restaurants had to have spells on them so they would keep moving around instead of lowering the property values by staying in one place, but it had still prepared me to a certain extent for what to expect.
Kalvin, on the other hand, had had no experience with Pervish eateries before. I almost lost him two steps into the place just from the smell. To be honest, I almost lost me, too. While I had been exposed to, I had never actually set foot inside one before. If there are those out there in a similar position to where I was experience-wise at this point, let me warn you: The smell loses a lot by the time it gets to the street.
“What died!?”
The Djin was holding his nose as he glanced disdainfully around the restaurant’s interior.
“Come, come now, Kalvin,” I said, trying to make light of the matter. “Haven’t you ever smelled a good home-cooked meal before? You know, like mother used to burn?”
If the reader deduces from the foregoing that Pervish cooking is less than fragrant ... that, perhaps, it stinks to high heaven, I can only say that my skill as a writer has finally reached the level of my readership. That is, indeed, what I have been attempting to say. Fortunately for the dimensions at large, however, mere words cannot convey the near-tangible texture of the stench.
“If my mother cooked like that, we would have gotten rid of her ... even earlier than we did,” Kalvin declared bluntly.
Curious comment, that.
“You can’t tell me you like this,” he insisted. “I mean, you may be a little strange, but you’re still a sentient being.”
“So are the Pervects.”
“I’m willing to debate that ... more than ever, now that I’m getting a feel for what they eat. You’re avoiding the question, though. Are you really going to eat any of this stuff?”
I decided the joke had gone far enough.
“Not on a bet!” I admitted in a whisper. “If you watch closely, you’ll see that some of the food actually crawls out of the bowl.”
“I’d rather not!” Kalvin said, averting his eyes. “Seriously, Skeeve, if you aren’t going to eat anything, why are we here?”
“Oh, I’m going to try to get something to eat. Just nothing they would prepare for the natives. That’s why I was hunting for a place that served food from—and therefore, hopefully, stomachable by— off-world and off-worlders.”
The Djin was unimpressed.
“I don’t care where the recipe comes from. You’re telling me you’re going to take something that’s been prepared in this kitchen and been in proximity with other dishes that stink the way these do, and then put it in your mouth? Maybe we should debate your qualifications as an intelligent being.”
Looking at it that way, he had a point. Suddenly I didn’t feel as clever as I had a few moments before.
“Cahn I help you, sir?”
The Pervect who materialized at my elbow was as stiffly formal as anything I’d seen that wasn’t perched on a wedding cake. He had somehow mastered the technique of being subservient while still looking down on you. And they say that waiters can’t be trained!
“Well, we ... that is, I ...
They were as brightly dressed as any Imp, though they tended to hang back in the shadows, easing out to make muttered offers to passersby. What they were selling I was never sure, since none of them approached me directly. This is not to say they didn’t notice my passing, for they watched me with flat reptilian eyes, but something in what they saw apparently convinced them to leave me alone. I can’t say I was heartbroken by the omission.
I was so intent on watching the watchers I almost missed our restaurant. Kalvin spotted it, though, and after he’d brought it to my attention, we went in.
Way back when I first met Aahz, I had been exposed to a Pervish restaurant. Of course, that was at the Bazaar where there was an ordinance that Pervish restaurants had to have spells on them so they would keep moving around instead of lowering the property values by staying in one place, but it had still prepared me to a certain extent for what to expect.
Kalvin, on the other hand, had had no experience with Pervish eateries before. I almost lost him two steps into the place just from the smell. To be honest, I almost lost me, too. While I had been exposed to, I had never actually set foot inside one before. If there are those out there in a similar position to where I was experience-wise at this point, let me warn you: The smell loses a lot by the time it gets to the street.
“What died!?”
The Djin was holding his nose as he glanced disdainfully around the restaurant’s interior.
“Come, come now, Kalvin,” I said, trying to make light of the matter. “Haven’t you ever smelled a good home-cooked meal before? You know, like mother used to burn?”
If the reader deduces from the foregoing that Pervish cooking is less than fragrant ... that, perhaps, it stinks to high heaven, I can only say that my skill as a writer has finally reached the level of my readership. That is, indeed, what I have been attempting to say. Fortunately for the dimensions at large, however, mere words cannot convey the near-tangible texture of the stench.
“If my mother cooked like that, we would have gotten rid of her ... even earlier than we did,” Kalvin declared bluntly.
Curious comment, that.
“You can’t tell me you like this,” he insisted. “I mean, you may be a little strange, but you’re still a sentient being.”
“So are the Pervects.”
“I’m willing to debate that ... more than ever, now that I’m getting a feel for what they eat. You’re avoiding the question, though. Are you really going to eat any of this stuff?”
I decided the joke had gone far enough.
“Not on a bet!” I admitted in a whisper. “If you watch closely, you’ll see that some of the food actually crawls out of the bowl.”
“I’d rather not!” Kalvin said, averting his eyes. “Seriously, Skeeve, if you aren’t going to eat anything, why are we here?”
“Oh, I’m going to try to get something to eat. Just nothing they would prepare for the natives. That’s why I was hunting for a place that served food from—and therefore, hopefully, stomachable by— off-world and off-worlders.”
The Djin was unimpressed.
“I don’t care where the recipe comes from. You’re telling me you’re going to take something that’s been prepared in this kitchen and been in proximity with other dishes that stink the way these do, and then put it in your mouth? Maybe we should debate your qualifications as an intelligent being.”
Looking at it that way, he had a point. Suddenly I didn’t feel as clever as I had a few moments before.
“Cahn I help you, sir?”
The Pervect who materialized at my elbow was as stiffly formal as anything I’d seen that wasn’t perched on a wedding cake. He had somehow mastered the technique of being subservient while still looking down on you. And they say that waiters can’t be trained!
“Well, we ... that is, I ...
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