“It doesn’t help . . . but that’s not the whole problem,” I said. “All alcohol does is amplify what’s there already. It may make my irritating habits more irritating, but it isn’t causing them.”
“True enough,” he admitted grudgingly.
“So lay it on me,” I urged. “What is it about me that’s so irritating? I try to be a nice guy, but lately it hasn’t been working so well. First with Aahz, and now with you.” The Djin hesitated before answering.
“I haven’t really known you all that long, Skeeve. Any thing I could say would be a snap judgment.”
“So give me a snap judgment. I really want to . . .”
“Your dinner. Sir!”
The Pervect who had first seated me was hovering over my table again, this time with the waiter in tow. That latter notable was staggering under a huge covered platter which had steam rising from it enticingly.
I was desperately interested in hearing what Kalvin had to say, but the sight of the platter reminded me that I was desperately hungry as well. Apparently the Djin sensed my dilemma.
“Go ahead and eat, Skeeve,” he said. “I can hold until you’re done.”
Nodding my thanks, I turned my attention to the waiting Pervect.
“It smells delicious,” I managed, honestly surprised.
“What is it?”
“Wan uf ze House Specialties,” he beamed, reaching for the tray cover. “From Klah!”
The tray cover disappeared with a flourish, and I found myself face-to-face with someone else from my home dimension of Klah. Unfortunately, he wasn’t serving the meal. . . he was the meal! Roasted, with a dead rat in his mouth as a garnish.