my leg is going straight through that girl’s eye, and I cannot
be held responsible.”
“Patience, my dear,” Up said, digging in to his portion of
unidentifiable pate with enthusiasm. “There’s only eleven
more courses to go.”
She kicked him under the table, and he winced, ever so
slightly.
The dinner lasted for hours, and consisted of several
unrecognizable delicacies from across the galaxy.
“Hijo de puta!” exclaimed Taz loudly when their seventh
course was unveiled, a pulsing lime green Uranian version
of lobster in the shell. The table fell silent, and several of
the ladies looked up in shock.
Up laughed uneasily and patted Taz’s arm. “My wife’s
family originally hails from Mexico,” he said in
explanation. “Sometimes the Spanish just bursts out when
you least expect it – one of the many things I love about
her.”
“Awww,” said February. “You two are just so cute.”
Taz looked at Up with a searching expression in her
eyes, and didn’t say another word for the rest of the meal.
He wondered what it was that he’d said.
The guests hovered, cocktails in hand, as the tables were
cleared for the dancing portion of the evening. A seventeen-
piece interspecies band was set up on the stage, and soon
the music began and the dance floor started to fill. Taz and
Up stayed close to the bar, making sure their target stayed
within sight lines.
It certainly qualified as one of the strangest nights of
Taz’s life. She now knew more about hem length and
eyelash curlers than she ever thought possible, and
refraining from breaking the nose of the next gross old man
who leered at her was becoming more and more difficult as