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120 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1979
The Drac just stood there and I went over the phrase taught us in training—a phrase calculated to drive any Drac into a frenzy. “Kiz da yuomeen Shizumaat!” Meaning: Shizumaat, the most revered Drac philosopher, eats kiz excrement. Some thing on the level of stuffing a Moslem full of pork.
The Drac opened its mouth in horror, then closed it as anger literally changed its color from yellow to reddish-brown. “Irkmaan, yaa stupid Mickey Mouse is!”
As Zammis and I prepared to enjoy our first hot bath, I removed my snakeskins, tested the water with my toe, then stepped in. “Great!” I turned to Zammis, the child still half dressed. “Come on in, Zammis. The water’s fine.”
Zammis was staring at me, its mouth hanging open.
“What’s the matter?”
The child stared wide-eyed, then pointed at me with a three-fingered hand. “Uncle … what’s that?”
I looked down. “Oh.” I shook my head, then looked up at the child. “Zammis, I explained all that, remember? I’m a human.”
“But what’s it for?”
I sat down in the warm water, removing the object of discussion from sight. “It’s for the elimination of liquid wastes … among other things. Now, hop in and get washed.”
Zammis shucked its snakeskins, looked down at its own smooth-surfaced, combined system, then climbed into the tube. The child settled into the water up to its neck, its yellow eyes studying me.
“Uncle?”
“Yes?”
“What other things?”