Robert Asprin - Class Dis-Mythed

The Geek went into his talk. "Of course you know that Sharkbait took it in the teeth last night, and went out during the brawl. Not one single fishie was able to get to the haven before time was called. That leaves the Shock Jahks at eleven to one. The Gargoyle Girls moved up the list with an excellent showing, with only one of their teammates still out on the floor at the whistle. The Sorcerer's Apprentices are four to one. They suffered a setback when Tolk the Canidian lost all his teeth dragging that Gargoyle around the floor. They've been replaced in his jaw by our dentists, but he's a sore pup this morning. The Dragonettes are still at three to one, and the All-Pervects continue to be my favorites for the championship."

Bunny pointed to the relevant details. I caught her frowning at the second-to-last line, but she switched on the brilliant smile again in time to be captured from several angles by the magicians covering the interview.

"Do you hear that, folks?" Schlein asked, beaming for the crystals. "And we move along to the next in our eating contests. You've seen quantity eating in one of our earlier episodes. Now, we challenge the contestants to eat quality—or lack thereof. We've got five colored feathers to see who will take one in the guts for the team. Are you ready?"

While he had been talking, the globe drifted down so that we were once again in the midst of the contestants.

"Yeah!" the teams shouted. Tolk, a bandage wound around his jaws, leaped up and down. The dragon, under tight control by one of the Trolls on its team, bobbed its head.

Schlein stepped out of the bubble and pointed heavenward. "Here come the Feathers of Fate!"

Drifting lazily on the stray breezes that whisked around the huge stone bowl, the five feathers dropped toward each team. I watched them for a moment, and noticed a telltale jerk or two. The feathers were being guided by some unseen hand.

"Geek," I growled.

The Deveel turned to me apologetically. "Aahz, we've got to balance the rounds. What if we have the dragon up against the Cupy? It's no contest! The audience will hate it. I swear, there won't be anything in the food but food."

I had to settle for the compromise. At least it wasn't putting my students at a disadvantage. "All right."

Schlein was on the spot to announce the unlucky diners. "And the Feather of Fate has chosen—Grunt, for the Dragonettes!"

A hefty Troll with dark purple fur came forward, waving to the audience with both hands.

"He'll be joined by Meghan of the Shock Jahks. Here comes the red feather—Nita for the Gargoyle Girls! For the All-Pervects, Crasmer. And Bee, for the Sorcerer's Apprentices! Come on and sit down at the table, folks!"

"This one's for all the cookies, folks," Schlein announced. "Oops, sorry, kids, I shouldn't mention cookies. You don't want to think about cookies or anything you can toss. Here come our chefs! Now, remember the rules. This one's not for penalty points. You have to eat what's in the bowl AND finish it. No dinner, no dessert! The survivors—I mean, the winners—of this round go on to our final challenge, the Monster Monster Challenge, which will determine who will Sink or Swim!"

"Now, the servers have been blindfolded," Schlein continued smoothly as five white-coated Deveels carrying trays felt their way blindly into the room. "They don't know who they're giving each dish to. You've got to pray it's something you can stomach. If you don't hold it down through the end of the round, you lose, and your team goes home. No consolation prizes—but we will give you something for your tummy. Ready?"

"Ready!" chorused the contestants.

"This way, servers! Follow the sound of my voice."

"This is the best elimination round I've ever come up with," the Geek confided as the bubble rose out of reach of the contestants.

"Sucker bet," I growled.

"Not always," the Geek said. "You won't believe how some of the players manage! A little old lady in the Imper contest won this round. Turns out she just couldn't taste anything, so it didn't bother her."

Below, the white-coated waiters made it to the table. They deposited covered dishes in front of each contestant then pulled back as the covers lifted off all by themselves. The audience let out an "Ooooooh."

I winced. All of the dishes looked sickening, but to my horror Bee had received a bowl of purple pseudopods that were all too familiar. Pervish cooking! I glared at the Geek.

"I told you, the All-Pervects were favored to win," he admitted sheepishly. "If they happened to get some home cooking, well—"

"So you cheat."

"Balance, Aahz, balance! Anyway, it doesn't matter. Crasmer got, hmm, let's see: stone chips in sulphur gravy. Look, the Gargoyle's eyeing that. It's a delicacy where she comes from!"

Schlein appeared beside them holding an old fashioned dinner bell. He tinkled it.

"Soup's on!"

Bee looked as terrified as I felt. I was sorry for him. It shouldn't befall a decent Klahd like him to have to face Pervish food twice in a lifetime, let alone twice in a month. The animate goo writhing in the dish started to feel its way toward the rim. Bee halfheartedly shoved them back. His companions shouted encouragement from the sidelines.

I felt like adding my voice to theirs. I wanted to shout down to him that he'd done this successfully once before. He could do it again! But I also knew that he dreaded putting any of those things in his mouth. My own stomach heaved as I remembered the flavor and texture, not to mention the MOTION.

The Troll stared at his bowl full of live spiders and scorpions. Could that be fear on his face? I had never known a Troll to blanch at any physical contest, no matter how difficult. It took him a moment to overcome the revulsion. Resolutely, he reached out a hairy paw, seized a wriggling tarantula, put it in his mouth and crunched it.

In moments, his face began to swell up.

"What's the matter?" Schlein asked.

"I'b allerjhic to sbiders," the Troll said. "Gotta—"

He got up and staggered toward the wings. The medics followed him, clutching their black bags.

Schlein turned to the rest of the team, waiting anxiously in the wings. "Sorry about that, Dragonettes! You're out!"

"Come on, Bee! Come on!" the rest of the Sorcerer's Apprentices chanted. "Eat it eat it eat it eat it!"

Though his face was pale, Bee shot his comrades a hearty thumb's up. He took his spoon and resolutely thunked one of the pseudopods. It stiffened then went limp. With a visible gulp of nervousness, Bee scooped it into the spoon and brought it to his lips. The crowd fell silent.

Face wrinkled, he stuffed the mouthful in, and swallowed it.

The crowd went wild.

Next to him, Crasmer hunched over the plate of mashed stone, spooning it up as fast as he could, but each mouthful seemed to take an eternity to chew. I cringed at the cracking, crunching sounds, wondering if the teeth were grinding the rocks, or vice versa.

The Shock Jahk sat transfixed, staring at her entree, which consisted of one single, round, white object twice the size of my fist that sat in the middle of her plate. The entree stared back. It was an eyeball, garnished with a sprig of parsley.

"What about you, Meghan?" Schlein prompted.

"I—I—I can't do it!" The Jahk sprang up from her place and fled to the waiting arms of her teammates. The Shock Jahks all looked, well, shocked.

A Sittacomedian female with a microphone was in time to pick up the comment from the team captain, who was comforting his weeping teammate. "I didn't realize that when you said you were holding the contest on Perv that the contest would BE Perverted!"

The Gargoyle shoved away her empty bowl and rose to her feet with her hands clasped in victory.

The female commentator flew to her side and held out the microphone.