Teaching Trahzi love (1)

Over the years Gerald had developed an informal system that he used for determining what kind of day he was going to have to by the manner in which he woke up: Being woken up to find out you had been robbed during the night = bad day. Being woken up with a light layer of frost on your bed = good day. Waking up to a raccoon chewing on your toes = bad day. Waking up to rain dripping down on you through a hole in the roof = good day.

Since coming to Central Exeter he had added a couple to his list: Waking up in the hospital bed with your brain in a jar = bad day. Waking up to thugs bringing you yet another generous donation of food = good day...

...but Gerald had absolutely no clue how to categorize what he saw when he woke up that morning. There was a dead animal lying next to him in the hallway where he slept. It startled him so much he had already rolled over and scooted himself back against the busted door to his dorm room before he realized it was dead.

It was a white furry little thing, at least it had been. Not entirely unlike a rabbit, but very much dead.

Gerald looked up and down the hall, but there was no evidence of where it came from or how it had gotten there.

Once the adrenaline died down, he was left with the question of what to do with it. Should he leave it there for someone else to clean up? Should he take it with him and dispose of it himself? Or, should he not let it go to waste and cook it up for lunch?

He had to admit, he had no clue what the rule of etiquette was when finding road kill in front of one's door. He would have liked to write a letter to Miss Manners, but she was still in a Ducturian prison for having offended their crown prince. Apparently not flatulating after a meal is unforgivable in some places.

Finally, he settled on leaving it where it was. He reasoned that he knew nothing about it, and for all he knew it could have poisonous fur or explode when it was cooked or something like that, so best leave it be.

As he walked down the hall, several of the cleaning robots found the carcass and began beeping at him angrily, so he quickened his pace, rounding the corner after receiving what was most certainly the worst insult robots could give.

Gerald waited at the exit, as was his custom, and when another student walked through the automatic doors Gerald scooted out with him before the doors had a chance to slam on him.

They still tried, but only managed to snag the hem of his robe and slice a piece off.

"Better luck tomorrow," Gerald chuckled.

As he walked down the steps from the boy's dorm, he could hear robotic screams coming from a window on the third floor. He quickened his pace and looked back. A small robot was leaning out and shaking its little fist as hard as it could.

When Gerald turned around again, he nearly ran into a pair of enormous breasts barely containted within a school uniform.

"Oh, hi Trahzi," he greeted, looking up into her face. "What are you doing here?"

"In order for us to learn about love from you it is important that we spend as much time together as possible. We have come to walk to class together."

"Oh, well, that makes sense, I guess," he mumbled as he looked back up towards the screaming robot.

Trahzi glanced up. "Is something wrong? You seem distracted."

"Well, I am, a little." He scratched the back of his head. "Look, Trahzi there's no polite way to say this, so I'll just ask. Did you by any chance... leave a dead animal on my porch?"

Her brow furrowed. "We find you very strange."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"At this rate learning about love from you will be more difficult. We suggest you keep such questions to yourself from now on."

Trahzi turned around and began walking. Gerald reluctantly followed.

Gerald smacked his lips together. "Yeah, about that Trahzi, I don't think I'm going to be able to help you with that. I'm studying to become a priest. I'm up to take out my vows in a few weeks. I'm sorry but this really is something that I cannot do, it's just not appropriate."

Trahzi shot him a dagger from the corner of her eye. "This mission is vital to the survival of our race. Our very existence depends on its success. If you become an obstacle to it there will be consequences."

To emphasize the point, she snapped her fingers and a nearby bench burst into flames.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it."

Gerald found it a little odd walking with a girl. He couldn't recall ever doing so since he was a kid, and doubly odd that she was so much taller than he was. He was tall for a human, of course. Well above average, actually, but walking alongside her made him feel like Roger Rabbit next to his wife Jessica.

As they strolled across campus, every eye seemed to be fixed upon them. Students popped their heads up from behind walls, around corners, and sometimes from within bushes to gawk at them as they passed by.

"Do you see that? They're walking to school together?" One girl asked her friend.

"Are they dating?" A boy asked his classmate.

"Who?"

"Dyson and the demon girl?"

"Why would anyone wanna date him?"

Gerald frowned. "They could at least try to be discreet. They're not even bothering to whisper."

Trahzi didn't seem to notice any of it. She was focused on the task at hand. She didn't walk like other girls. She strode with her long shapely legs. Her voluptuous backside minced enticingly back and forth with every step. It was positively hypnotic. It was as if her whole body moved to some silent primal music. Raw and irresistible. Every few paces, Gerald would have to do a double-step just to keep up with her, for he knew that if she got ahead of him, he'd end up staring at her sensual body, and he couldn't allow himself to do that.

Gerald caught a glimpse of a really neat spider web strung between two tree branches. He only glanced at it for a second, but it only took that long for Trahzi to get way ahead of him. He had to sprint to catch up.

"I bet he's paying her," a girl said, her arms folded critically.

"With what? He's broke as a thurgosood." Her friend spat back.

"Maybe he's blackmailing her with something?"

"Ohhh, how scandalous. That lecher!"

Gerald ground his teeth. "Why am I the one of they're gossiping about?"

"We have a while before morning classes," Trahzi said, steering the conversation back to the task at hand. "Shall we begin?"

Gerald coughed. "Well, to be honest, I'm not quite sure. I mean, it's not like there is a guide set down anywhere for this. But I do have a couple of ideas."

He looked around. "I need an object lesson here... um, that'll do."

He walked over and plucked a pair of leaves off a bush.

"Ow!" the bush yelled.

"Oh, sorry," Gerald said reflexively.

"What the prog is wrong with you?" the bush cursed.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were... never mind."

"What? You thought I was what?"

Gerald backed away. "Nothing."

"You were going to say you thought I was a bush, weren't you?"

Gerald looked away. "Not really."

"I'm not part of the foliage, I'm the frakkin' art teacher!"

"Sorry, sorry," he said again as he grabbed Trahzi's arm and led her away.

"Why did you hurt Professor V'vooad?" Trahzi asked.

"Just keep walking," he rushed.

"Was that part of the lesson?"

"No."

Finally getting out of earshot of the enraged art teacher. They found a spot underneath a crystal tree in the quad and sat down together.

"Okay," he said, placing a leaf in her hand and the other in his. "What do you feel?"

She touched the leaf with her fingers. "Lamina, mid rib, vein, sinus, lobe, waxy cuticle, stoma, mesophyll..."

From his reaction she could tell that was not what he intended. "Why? What do you feel?"

"Oh, I was going to say 'smooth,'" he admitted.

"That's a little simplistic, don't you think?"

"Yes, but the point is that you and I feel the same thing when we touch it."

She accepted this answer.

"Now, I'm going to say something to you, and I want you to tell me how it feels."

"All right."

"I am very proud of you for passing your weapons test yesterday. You were amazing," he said sincerely.

She stared at him.

"How did that make you feel?"

She shrugged. "We feel nothing, you simply stated a fact."

"Yes, but didn't the praise make you feel good?"

"We suppose... perhaps a little."

"Well, I feel the same when I am praised."

"But you failed the weapons test."

"Well, yes, but the point is... oh here, watch."

Gerald sat up and yelled over to Cleylselle, who was passing by on his morning jog.

"Hey, Cleylselle, congratulations on passing your weapons test."

"Screw you, Dyson!" the angry, grey-skinned student yelled back.

"Okay, well that didn't work. The point I was trying to illustrate is that the things that make you feel good, also make others feel good."

Gerald felt a little prick on his ankle. He looked down and saw a little squirrel-like creature biting into his skin, drawing blood.

"Ouch," he yelped, kicking the creature away. It scurried up the side of the tree and chittered angrily at him.