We Dine With Cannibals by C. Alexander London

room and stomped down the hall. “I can ride allama as well as anyone.” She glanced over at Corey Brandt. “Maybe better, actually.”
    Oliver noticed that she had changed clothes and that her hair was different.
    â€œYou didn’t come here just to harass my children about llamas,” Dr. Navel interrupted.
    â€œWell, I was talking to my old friend Barbara Deaver,” said Sir Edmund, “who happens to be a middle school principal. Naturally, I asked after the well-being of my favorite Navels and was saddened to learn they had been suspended from the sixth grade so early.” He shook his head. “I fear that too much television has turned them into antisocial deviants. All hope is not lost, however. I can whip them into shape for you, Navel. A few more weeks traveling with me, and they’ll be as good as …” He twirled his mustache and smiled as he drew out the last word: “Gold.”
    â€œThe terms of the wager are that they belong to you when they are on
vacation
,” Dr. Navel responded. “Suspension is not a vacation.”
    â€œYes it is,” Sir Edmund said.
    â€œNo it’s not,” Dr. Navel answered.
    â€œIt is,” said Sir Edmund.
    â€œIt is not,” said Dr. Navel.
    Oliver, Celia, Corey Brandt, and the professor snapped their heads back and forth between the two men like they were watching a tennis match. Although, given the height difference between Dr. Navel and Sir Edmund, it was more like a tennis match on a steep hill.
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œIt’s not.”
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œIt’s not.”
    â€œEnough!” Sir Edmund finally shouted. “I will not stand here and argue with an explorer who cannot even find his own wife.” He turned to the professor. “I am amazed you allow him to remain the Explorer-in-Residence. Perhaps the standards of the Explorers Club are slipping. Perhaps I should consider reducing the amount of my next donation …”
    â€œThere is no need to do that,” Professor Rasmali-Greenberg sputtered. “I am sure we can come to an agreement here.”
    â€œI thought we might,” Sir Edmund said. “Very good then. We shall all travel together to the Amazon.”
    â€œNo we will not!” Dr. Navel shouted.
    â€œYes we will,” said Sir Edmund.
    â€œWe will not!” said Dr. Navel.
    â€œWe will indeed!”
    â€œWe will absolutely not!”
    â€œWe most certainly will!”
    â€œDude!” Corey Brandt interrupted. “I can’t take any more of these bad vibes. Whatever. We’ll all go.” He turned to Sir Edmund. “Just try to stay off camera, okay?”
    â€œExcellent,” said Sir Edmund. “It will be delightful to see television magic in the making. Will your entourage be joining us?”
    â€œI’ll be on my own,” said Corey Brandt.
    â€œNo legal guardians? Assistants? Publicists? Hairstylists? Stuntmen?”
    Corey Brandt clenched his jaw and glared at Sir Edmund. “My parents don’t travel, my assistant is on vacation, my publicist doesn’t
do
nature, this is just how my hair looks, and I”—he coughed into his hand—“I do all my own stunts.”
    â€œReally?” Oliver gasped. “So when Agent Zero escaped from the Assassins’ Guild in the desert of Kazakhstan, you did that? And jumping out of the sky castle of Mumbai? And waterskiing through the fires of Cleveland? You did all that?”
    â€œYeah,” said Corey Brandt.
    â€œCool!” said Oliver.
    Dr. Navel wondered why Oliver thought it was cool when Corey Brandt did exciting and dangerous things, but awful and dull when Dr. Navel had his children do them.
    â€œI took you to Cleveland once,” he muttered to himself.
    â€œI assume we shall start our expedition with Benjamin Constant. I shall make the arrangements,” said Sir Edmund. He didn’t wait for an