you're simply fourth place

The scene at the appreciation luncheon was startling. Mot Znuk was not his normal heavy-lidded self, but charged up somehow. I’m starting to link this behavior to situations involving free food. Remember the involvement carnival? The Jesus dogs?

So, he’s all amped about the potato salad, is waving his fork about, is telling his chicken if no one were watching he’d be using his hands (“I’d get in there, I’d eat you right up”). I want to shout gross, but don’t because I’ve dropped food down my front. We’re a disaster. I’m outrageously uncomfortable. The giant bird mascot keeps coming really close and waving and I can’t find the eyes.

“In his mouth, in the beak,” Mot says peering, squinting. Then, with his mouth full, he’s telling someone who’s stopped by our table, that we don’t know, “This is some spread; really, a fine spread.”

Point out to Mot that I’ve eaten five cornbread mini-muffins. “You’ve got muffin fever,” Mot says jovially. I wipe butter off my wrist. He wipes chicken off his sunglasses and whisper-screams like a little girl when the chancellor walks up. Disaster.

Plus, they’re playing “You’re Simply the Best.” On loop. As in, it’s the only song playing. Nearby someone uses the term “critters” in a conversation about safaris. We get seconds.