The thought-to-matter transference crown thing on her head was something else. She wished she could take it home and use it in her classes at Woodrow Wilson High.
She watched as the Professors—thirsty from their first foray into the endlessly addictive world of really good salty tortilla chips—picked up their wide, salt-rimmed glasses and drank.
Eyes widened and she heard many remarks drifting up about the “complexity of the mixture” and the “sweet-sour-salty blend” of the drink. Glasses were drained and eyes began to shine—people began to laugh as they looked at her expectantly for the next dish.
Vicky went on, talking about Tex-Mex and Spanish cuisine from around the world, though she stuck mostly to the menu from Pappasito’s. It was just so good she knew her audience would have to love it—especially after being forced to eat larvae and mold during Professor Lornah’s lecture.
She talked about chili con queso and pork tamales. She spoke longingly about chicharrones and redfish tacos. She explained the beauty of a perfectly balanced mole and allowed her audience to taste the most perfectly seasoned and balanced ceviche and with every dish, she offered an accompanying drink.
By the time she made sizzling platters of fajitas and accompanying shots of strong tequila appear on every table, the audience was eating out of the palm of her hand.
Literally, Vicky thought happily. They’re literally eating up everything I say! And they’re learning Spanish too—how funny is that?
She finished with decadent slabs of tres leches cake and crispy cinnamon churros for dessert paired with tiny glasses of Osborne Pedro Ximenez Sherry. And, when every last crumb was gone, she bowed—as well as she could with the three-foot thought-to-matter transference crown on her head and said, “Gracias for allowing me to teach you a little Espanol today. I hope you have enjoyed my lecture as much as I enjoyed giving it. Buenas Noches.”
At her conclusion, the auditorium erupted into applause. The professors and their students stood, clapping and cheering wildly.
Vicky bowed again, delighted and relieved at her success. It was definitely the best-received class she’d ever taught and though she thought the immense amount of alcohol probably had something to do with her audience’s reaction, she was still pleasantly surprised that she’d pulled the unexpected lecture off so well.
Ought to try teaching drunk more often, she thought and had to suppress a giggle. It was a good thing she hadn’t been drinking all the beverages she’d offered her audience or she would be flat on her back under the table for sure!
“Well…it appears your lecture was something of a success.”
The voice in her ear made her turn and she saw Professor Lornah standing there with a slightly sour expression on her face. Clearly she wasn’t completely happy for Vicky—or maybe she was just jealous that Vicky’s lecture had gone over so much better than her own.
“Oh, hi!” she said brightly, smiling at the other woman. “Yes, the audience did seem to enjoy it.”
“Enjoy it—my dear, they ate it up!”
The new voice to her left was coming from a tall, thin woman who looked to be in her late fifties. She had a beak-like nose and hair that had been dyed a brilliant pink. Behind her were two young men in their twenties, a burly one with dark hair and light eyes and a slender blond boy with wide brown eyes and a delicate air about him.
“Professor Victoria, this is Professor Torella of the Vessels of Antiquity University,” Professor Lornah said, introducing them. “Torry, this is Professor Victoria,” she added, speaking to the beak-nosed woman.
“So excited to meet you!” the woman exclaimed, giving Vicky smacking, enthusiastic kisses on both cheeks and then on the forehead—apparently for good measure.
“Well, I’m glad to meet you, too, Professor Torella!” Vicky said, returning the woman’s gestures—even the kiss on the forehead. It was a little weird but it was clearly just their custom and Professor Torella seemed to expect it.
“Oh, just call me Torry,” the beak-nosed woman exclaimed. “And can I call you Vicky?”
“That’s what all my friends call me,” Vicky told her, smiling easily. “Thank you for coming to meet me.”
“Well, how could I stop myself after you served us all such delicious, exotic delicacies?” the other woman exclaimed. “Those chips and salsa—why, I’ve never had anything so uniquely gourmet before! Those textures—the creamy paired with the crunchy and the spice on your tongue—delicious!”
“I found the dishes too hot—they burned my tongue,” Professor Lornah said sourly.
“Oh, you’re just jealous that your own lecture was only met with middling applause while Vicky was given a standing ovation!” Professor Torella exclaimed, rounding on the other woman.
From the alcohol on her breath, Vicky was pretty certain that “Torry” was drunk—or close to it—and probably wouldn’t be talking this way otherwise. But she was still plenty tipsy herself so she joined in.
“Well, I mean, come on,” she said, gesturing with one hand. “Tacos and Margaritas are going to beat out rotten buns and spider cakes every time, am I right?” she turned to Professor Lornah. “Next time, if you want a standing O, stop trying to feed people bugs—or feed people with bugs—and give them something good. It doesn’t have to be fancy—just about anything is better than rancid whipped cream.”
“Well!” Professor Lornah’s eyes grew wide and it was clear she was offended.
“Sorry—sorry.” Even in her rather inebriated state, Vicky sensed she’d gone too far. “I was just trying to help,” she told the other woman.
“Of course, you were.” Professor Torella hooked her arm through Vicky’s and leaned closer to whisper loudly in her ear, “Don’t mind Lornah—she always lectures on the most sophisticated—and least tasty—dishes in the universe! Nobody likes her cuisine but we all have to pretend to or she gets so
