The first course had been Blanche’s "Little Fishy Feast," a gritty concoction that still made Ethan Gray’s teeth ache at the mere thought of it. Now, he stood before the second course: Millie’s "Whiskers Rice."
Ethan looked down at the plastic bowl. In the center of a mound of grey, damp sand were several translucent, yellowish threads. He couldn't quite identify the botanical origin of these "whiskers," but they looked suspiciously like dried corn silk.
"What exactly am I looking at, Millie?" Ethan asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Blanche, acting as the self-appointed head chef and translator, chimed in before the shy Millie could find her voice. "These are the silky tassels from the very top of the maize, Mister! I brought them all the way from my Ancestral Estate. When you mix
