Unidentified Funny Objects 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

Bertrand had been speaking his native tongue rather than Hucksterian (or the Extremely Common Lingo) he would have employed the First Person Indifferent, a verb form meant to convey insincerity and disdain like nobody’s business. “If I brought you the biscotti one by one, it was to prevent accidental crumbling, for to do otherwise were to insult the baker. Good things are worth the wait, is it not so? But perhaps madame does not know how to appreciate such a refined and sophisticated—”
    The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “Are you  trying to annoy me?”
    The waiter’s brows lifted. “Is madame becoming irked? Peeved? Peradventure piqued? Dare I hazard… infuriated?”
    Naphtheena took a deep, centering breath. “I am not. It would be quite unwise of me to permit a mere mortal to provoke me into losing my temper under the present circumstances. However, you might be interested to learn that among my kindred, anger is not a prerequisite to eating what irritates us, or even what attempts to do so. If I were to tell you the number of people I have devoured in cold blood—theirs—it would make your flawlessly coiffed head spin. But it would be much better for us both if it made your butt move into the kitchen and back here with my biscotti right about  now .”
    Her words had the desired effect. M’sieu Bertrand dashed off with alacrity and returned with biscotti. When he brought the tasty morsels, he found that another party had joined his customer at the small, round table. The creature that perched on the chair opposite the enormous dragon was much smaller, squatter, and covered in dirty taupe plumage from her garish yellow bird feet almost all the way up to her neck. The only portion of her body that was bare, besides her lovely woman’s face, was her equally attractive bosom. While Naphtheena eyed her askance, she cocked her head at the waiter in the manner of inquisitive pigeons everywhere.
    “A friend of yours?” the waiter asked Naphtheena.
    “Certainly not!” The dragon seemed appalled at the very thought. “Shoo her off at once!”
    “Ah, Madame, would that I could.” M’sieu Bertrand flicked his fingers in an insouciant manner. “But this newcomer is a customer and our outdoor seating is limited.” He needlessly indicated the fact that there was only one table in the courtyard. “I am afraid that you will either have to share your place with her or pay your bill and depart at once.”
    “All right, if I must. Wrap my biscotti to go and—”
    The waiter whisked the plate behind his back. “This tavern is not licensed for takeaway service, alas. However, you are still responsible for paying for them.”
    Naphtheena’s brow lowered. “You  are trying to get my goat, aren’t you? If you were anything but a miserable fetch-and-carry, I would suspect you of dark motives against me.” She drew in another of those calming breaths and let it out in the waiter’s face. Coming from a dragon, such an exhalation bore the tang of sulfur and the charnel house, with a whisper of almond extract from her previous order of biscotti. It was no fragrant zephyr, as she well knew when she shot it at M’sieu Bertrand, who staggered at the sick-making pong. This mollified the dragon somewhat.
    “Very well, I’ll share the table,” she said, and tapped the surface smartly with one claw. “My biscotti, if you don’t mind.”
    M’sieu Bertrand looked a bit green, but nausea was not the chief emotion that his face revealed. For some as-yet-unknown reason, the waiter did not look so much queasy as thwarted. It took him a moment to recover his aplomb, whereupon he turned his attention to Naphtheena’s uninvited guest.
    “Would madame care to see  la carte du jour ?” M’sieu Bertrand inquired suavely, all the while employing the famed Sesinaypazoonpeepian discretion to feast his eyes upon the feathered monster’s generous endowments.
    “Don’t ask her that, you fool!” The azure dragon leaped to her