Finally, they arrived in the trogs’ communal eating area – a huge recessed pit like an amphitheatre, with a cooking fire and a collection of salvaged kitchen appliances in the centre. Nico felt like he was about to be in the studio audience for a television bake-off. Asthey made their way to the front row, the trogs’ master cook strode towards them, a huge grin on his face and a much-too-tall white chef’s hat canted on his head like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Click-Wrong (pronounce theW) looked overjoyed to see Nico and Will again.
‘I have improved our recipes!’ he exclaimed. ‘Today, I have a human dish for you!’
‘Oh?’ Will looked like he wanted to ask whether that meant a dish made from humans, but he didn’t.
As Click-Wrong scurried off to prepare, a small troglodyte dressed like a Tour de France cyclist ran up and offered Will a large yellowish triangle that kind of resembled a block of cheese.
‘What is this for?’ Will asked.
The child pointed at Will’s head. He then offered Nico a brown bowler hat.
Nico couldn’t contain his amusement. He put on the bowler, then turned to Will. ‘Where’s your team spirit? You know the trogs expect their guests to wear hats. Don’t be shy.’
With a look of irritation, Will placed the foam cheese wedge on his head. ‘Why can’t I ever get anormalhat?’
‘Who likes normal?’ Nico said. ‘I much prefer the weird.’
‘Says the guy with a normal hat!’
Click-Wrong returned with a steaming black stone cup in either hand. ‘Please provide feedback,’ he said. ‘I accept a rating between one and five stars.’
Nico peered into the cup. The broth was a dark red colour, with pieces of some sort of animal protein floating in it. ‘Er, looks great, though I should have mentioned we can’t ingest Styx water –’
Click-Wrong waved aside the comment. ‘I am aware of human digestive weaknesses! Do not worry. Bon –screech– appétit!’
Nico took a sip and was pleasantly surprised. It was a little tart,very savoury and actually quite good, though he couldn’t identify what human recipe it was supposed to be.
‘Not bad at all,Click-Wrong!’ said Nico.
Will followed his cue and took a sip. He contemplated for a moment, then gave a thumbs-up. ‘Yeah, this is tasty! What is this?’
‘Tomato soup,’ said the chef. ‘I am glad you enjoy it! This givesClick-Wrong pride.’
Nico stared into his bowl. Tomato soup would not have been his guess. ‘Where do you get tomatoes down here?’
Click-Wrong smiled coyly, as if this were a trog state secret. ‘It also contains green anole lizard and some noodles. Those are my contributions!’
Will froze with the bowl halfway to his mouth. ‘Lizard. Again?’
‘A delicacy among trogs,’ Nico reminded him, so as not to offend their host. ‘Lots of human cultures eat lizard, too. We are honoured,Click-Wrong!’
To show he meant it, Nico slurped down a chunk of lizard meat. It was less chewy than he’d expected.
Will took another sip from his cup. ‘And … what kind of noodles did you find?’
‘The most common kind you humans use,’ said Click-Wrong.
Will frowned, then pinched a long dark ‘noodle’ out of the broth. A look of horror grew on his face. ‘Um, would that be the kind of noodle we wear on our shoes?’
‘Exactly!’ said Click-Wrong, delighted. ‘They are quite tasty.’
Nico covered his mouth to hold in the laughter. On the end of the ‘noodle’ was a small sheath of plastic – an aglet – that only appeared on one thing in the human world.
Will sighed. ‘Well, thanks,Click-Wrong. Humans can’t actually eat shoelaces, but … they add a real kick to the soup?’
Click-Wrong, clearly pleased, skipped off to serve other trogs.
Nico was lucky enough that his cup didn’t have a single shoelace in it. He was about halfway through his soup, and wondering how anoles could be so tasty, when Screech-Bling reappeared, heartily chewing on a bootstrap. ‘It is good to see you feasting with us!’