Invitation to Lunch

Ms. Stubbs gripped her laser pointer tightly in her hands. "Now class, I have something important that I need to discuss with you. Probably the most important thing I may ever teach you."

This caught everyone's attention.

She whipped out the pointer and thrust it at Tiboe, making him jump. The red dot squared on his furry forehead. "Mr. Tuchir, what is the proper way to make a sandwich? Meat-cheese-lettuce, or lettuce-meat-cheese?"

Tiboe scratched his bear-like ears in confusion. "Um, well, I suppose it can be made either way, can't it?"

Ms. Stubbs' frayed black hair crackled with electrical energy. "Exactly. You get it, why doesn't he?!"

Tiboe looked around. "He who?"

Ms. Stubbs' eyes darted around wildly. "And so, it should go without saying, that judging a woman's value by the way she makes a sandwich would be unforgivably stupid. Now, girls, I want you to remember, you must never EVER date a man who insists that he cannot eat a sandwich that is made meat-cheese-lettuce. I mean, who cares if the cheese and the lettuce touch? That shouldn't matter at all, right? What should matter is that you took the time to do something nice for him."

Tulda leaned over to Cha'Rolette and whispered, "Is Ms. Stubbs having trouble with her boyfriend?"

"It would seem so."

The laser pointed snapped in half in Ms. Stubbs' hands. "And boys, you'd better not grow up to be such a huge proog as to fuss over how your sandwhich is made, okay? When she does something nice for you, you'd better just say thank you and eat it up. Because, if you don't, then you will be an enemy to all women, and I will hunt you down at the first class reunion and destroy you!"

"Why is she airing this in class?" Kamanie wondered.

"Maybe the pressure of having Dyson in her class is finally getting to her," Tulda speculated.

Trahzi slammed her palms on her desk as she stood up, making Ms. Stubbs jump.

"We are finished with our work. We will be going now."

Ms. Stubbs fidgeted with her broken laser pointer. "But... but class isn't over yet, we still have a number of cases to cover."

Trahzi opened her pupil-less black eyes. "You're going to cover cases 2401, 2407, 2409, and 2010, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"You'll find that our summaries and conclusions have already been entered. In each case the wife was the guilty party."

Gerald chuckled and whispered to himself. "Spoiler alert."

Trahzi turned her icy gaze to him. "We beg your pardon?"

"Oh, sorry that's just something we humans say."

"Obviously."

Gerald couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. She was acting the same as before.

Soeckism had a strict policy that one must never expect anything to change, or for anyone to treat you differently after you have helped them. Service must be done without thought of reward or not at all. But still, there was a little part of him that still hoped that maybe just once...

Trahzi turned back to her teacher. "Since we have completed our work, sitting here serves no purpose. Goodbye."

As Trahzi gathered her things and walked out, Ms. Stubbs panicked. She twisted about, electricity arcing off the tips of her frizzled hair. She stammered out a "but wait" and a "you can't just," but was too afraid of Trahzi to put any force behind it.

When Trahzi reached the door, she stopped and turned back to Gerald. "You will come up to the roof during lunchtime with us."

"I will?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because we are hungry."

A wave of hushed murmurs spread through the class after Trahzi disappeared. Ms. Stubbs fell to her knees, mumbling something to herself about her career being flushed. Ilrica, Tomar, and Cha'Rolette came over to Gerald's desk, looking very concerned.

"You idiot!" Ilrica yelled, smacking him on the side of the head. "I told you not to talk to her."

"But, classmates should be friendly to one another."

Cha'Rolette leaned in. "Don't you know what she is?"

"An alien."

She pursed her lips. "Of course she's an alien. No, you dummy, she's one of the Banished."

Gerald thought hard. "Wait, I've heard that term. Isn't that what they call the races that..."

"Yes, the races who fought alongside the Archtyrant during the war. She helped turn over a thousand worlds to ash."

Gerald could feel a cold sweat forming on his neck. "But, surely Trahzi herself wasn't a part of that," he said, grasping at straws. "She's too young to..."

"Why do you keep calling it that?" Tomar pressed. "Trahzi isn't her name, Trahzi is her race. They don't have individual names, they all share a single collective consciousness."

Gerald's mouth was dry. "So, you're saying she IS the one who fought in the war?"

"Yeah, and you're having lunch with her, you big dope."

Ilrica leaned in close. "Gerald, don't you know anything about anything? Trahzi eat souls."

Gerald's fingers felt cold. "Wait, so you mean when she talked about lunch and being hungry... she meant...?"

"Yes, you've got to get out of here or she's going to track you down and eat your soul."