Chapter Three

Chapter Three

1

      The cannibal turned in his seat, eyes widening with hunger as again his gaze roamed over me. I was about to declare I was unsuitable cuisine when he said, "You must be new in town. Are you a transfer student?"

      I considered him a moment. "I wish to obtain knowledge of foreign culture."

      Sluggishly he tittered. "Then you must be enrolled in the Trudeax Academy. You know the school for the supernaturally gifted."

      My lips pursed. The drunkard with drink in hand toppled over thereafter and proceeded to exercise pig noises as his eyes closed. It was then I spied Fries making his way toward me. He paid no never mind to the spot of shattered glass and unresponsive human obstructing his path as he gleefully shared the magical world of toilets and fecal expulsion.

      "Sounds divine," I replied once he finished and then shared my learnings as well.

      "School," he asked, excitement lost. "Is that where the leader is?"

      "We must not tarry if we wish to understand the queef," I said.

2

      The next morning we stood before the pristine assembly presenting the Trudeax Academy lettering over its doors. After a rather disenchanting evening and night researching "school" and human common practices I wanted to believe we had a better grasp on the what to expect and how to blend in, but as Fries expelled a repugnant reminder of the sugary foods consumed before arriving from his hindquarters I realized we still had much to learn.

      "We're registered to enter," I instructed him as we slipped inside. "I took care of it though when filling out their documents I had to adjust our names a bit."

      "Why," he whispered as we came to our first hallway intersection.

      "They require a first, middle and last name. I reassigned myself as Evangeline Za'Leesia Vaughn and you as Travis Michael Fries," I explained and we merged with a fast moving band of giggling girls.

      "Why do you get to wear another pretty dress and I have to wear these itchy pants and shirt," he continued to complain.

      "It's their way, Fries," I hissed. "It's their way of segregating the genders." I pulled him aside to allow passage to others and asked, "Do you have the paper I gave you? You have to attend those classes in that order. We share a few of them together, but this first one we have to separate."

     Fries slouched, his eyes dull, as he numbly asked, "Anything else?"

     "You must adhere the human instructor's commands or you'll be excused and incarcerated in a nightmare they call 'detention'," I explained. "Good luck and stay alert."

3

     The human instructor paced in front of a large black board that she occasionally marked with a thin white wand that weaved numbers, letters and symbols my mind raced to decipher. With notebook and pencil ready to take down her information I sat patiently. The backpack I had worn earlier now served as a foot rest under my desk though there was no pleasure to gain during this first hour of 'school'.

      "Now," she said, "take a moment to let it sink in. I have to visit the lavatory and when I come back we'll discuss element correspondence."

      As she waddled and disappeared into the hallway I wondered if the nature of her visit was to urinate or defecate. One certainly took longer than the other, didn't it? Was it urgent? I could picture her clenching her anal cavity, holding back the watery tidal wave with a fist as she hurled herself onto the porcelain throne.

      "Excuse me."

      I jumped and my knees painfully hit the unforgiving underside of the desk. On the verge of soiling myself as I envisioned the human instructor might I looked to my left. A pair of large greenish gray eyes met mine as the boy leaned closer and asked softly, "Do you have an extra pencil I can borrow?" His full lips seemed to pout as the smell of his cologne waft to my nostrils. It was then I wondered why did I even allow myself to experience pain in the first place?

      I plucked my reserved one from the spiral notebook and handed it to him. "Sure. Here," I said. I could discreetly make another materialize if my remaining one failed me.

      He tapped the eraser against him palm, still close and whispered, "My name is Rogan. You're new here, right?"

      I nodded and replied, "I'm Evangeline."

      "All right, class," the instructor said and she turned into the room.

      Damn, I thought. I was so hoping it was number two, but her swift return proved me wrong.

      He smiled. "Maybe we can talk more later," he said. "Thanks for the pencil."

      "No problem," I replied.