Title: Dinner at the Hungry Hutt Authors: Findswoman and Chyntuck Timeframe: Approximately mid- to late Saga—PT Continuity: Legends (mostly) Characters: Bonvika Deseradii Feolla (Finds’s OC), Eliskandro Fasolia Faké (Chyn’s OC), Grand Duchess Peascodd of Geonosis (Finds’s OC), Baroness Marial Antilles (Chyn’s OC) Genre: Humor, romantic comedy Length: One-shot Summary: Two mahvelous Hutts go on a date in an equally mahvelous restaurant. Brace yourselves. Related stories: Our mahvelous Hutt OCs appear separately in several stories listed behind the spoiler tag below. We’ve been talking about bringing them together for several years, at the risk of disrupting the space-time continuum, and we finally got around to doing it. Spoiler Early Morning Thoughts of a Hutt's Gardener by Findswoman Pandemonium at a Hutt's Garden Party by Findswoman Of Urgent Transmissions and Curious Dropped Objects by Findswoman In Search of a Hutt’s Dinner Music by Findswoman The Detective Eliskandro Stories by Chyntuck Cinnamon Bun Earmuffs by Chyntuck The Hungry Hutt All-You-Can-Eat Buffet by Chyntuck Shaman, Traveler, Oracle (chapters 24ff.) by Findswoman Righteous Indignation of a Hutt Betrayed by Findswoman Challenge response: This story is an out-of-competition response to OTP Challenge #20 “It’s a Date!” ------------------------------- Dinner at the Hungry Hutt “Oh, Eliskandro, dahling, this is such a mahvelous idea. You do not know how terribly much I appreciate this.” “Think nothing of it, Bonvika dear,” Eliskandro replied, gesturing flamboyantly with one stubby hand while the other piloted his SoroSuub LuxuSkiff through the bustling, glittering skylanes of Imperial Center. “I of course could not ask for a lovelier companion.” “Oh, ha ha, stop it, you old charmer, you!” “Ah, ho ho, not half so chahming as you!” He winked, and Bonvika winked back, following it up with a flirtatious flutter of her supersized faux eyelashes. It was early evening, and the two Hutts were en route to one of their favorite haunts in the ecumenopolis: the Hungry Hutt, renowned across the Galaxy not only for its superb Lebnan cuisine but also as the Core’s premier destination for swampy, fetid sauna dining. Both Hutts were dressed to the nines. Bonvika wore not only a full face of makeup and her longest faux eyelashes but also a large, multicolored, and very sparkly fascinator cocked jauntily above her left eye, along with several equally multicolored and sparkly boas and countless necklaces of glittering precious and semi-precious gemstones. Eliskandro wore his tallest, shiniest top hat and a large, floofy bow tie with a pattern of tiny fluttering birds (how he had developed that obsession with the Elellumiwi, Bonvika had no idea) over a dazzling fuschia waistcoat, complete with pocket chronometer and monocle. She gave him the once-over and allowed herself a satisfied smile. The newsflimsies of Nal Hutta would be delighted to receive the holos that the paparazzi would no doubt capture tonight. The couple were quite a sight to behold, if Bonvika did say so herself. The LuxuSkiff came to a smooth halt on a wide platform in front of a set of gigantic doors. Bonvika had to admire how swiftly Eliskandro managed to slide out of his seat and slither around the speeder to offer her his arm. She noted in the corner of her eye that he wasn’t leaving a slime trail behind him—that Gastropod Glop Desiccant he was known to be partial to truly did wonders; she would have to procure some for herself. A valet droid took charge of their skiff as the restaurant doors swung open. Next, a MATR-D unit rolled up to check them in, then conducted them into the depths of the restaurant with a tin-flowery “Right this way, gentlebeings,” toward a Hutt-sized booth that released the most delectably and ripely steamy swamp-fumes either of them had breathed in a long time. “Oh, you have no idea how much I need this right now, Eliskandro dear,” Bonvika commented as they sludged toward their table behind the MATR-D. “You know how things can be with that tiresome old Grand Duchess Peascodd. She can... wear on one.” Eliskandro placed a leathery hand on his date’s equally leathery hand. “Ah, dahling, is that old vibroaxe giving you grief again?” “Alas, I fear so. I finally manage to procure that accursed enviro-controlled, handmade wroshyr wood collection display case she wanted, and what happens? My bungling agents lose it in transit. So of course she will not stop pestering about it.” Eliskandro’s eyes widened inquisitively. “I would certainly have thought she would have received it by now!” “Ah, but that is exactly the thing, Eliskandro dear. With my usual agents, she certainly would have. But alas, the Rose Evergreen is elsewhere engaged, so I have had to resort to... shall I say, second best. I have not received an update from the agents in more than two standard weeks. Nothing but impatient comms from Her Grace. It is irksome in the extreme.” “My dear Bonvika.” Eliskandro clasped her hand cordially as they slithered side-by-side into the capacious, curtained corner booth indicated to them by their droid guide. “I hope that here, this evening, here you will be able to forget her and all of those troubles and uncertainties. You more than deserve it.” “I have no doubt that I shall, Eliskandro dahling.” She clasped his hand back. “I have no doubt at all that I shall.” * * * Eliskandro dipped a finger into the little corner of the bog that graced the cubicle they had been allocated and let out a sigh of satisfaction as he waded into the tepid goo. He was in dire need of a little Hutt-appropriate relaxation himself, and a mudbath over dinner in such mahvelous company was well beyond anything he had dared hope for. It was only once he had settled into the miniature swamp that he realized just how small it actually was. Bonvika and he were, well… close. Very close. Not that he minded in the least, of course. But she had rejected him once in the past, when he had still answered to the name Eliskandra the Hutt. He wasn’t sure that he could summon the courage to declare his true feelings again, at the risk of facing another rejection. He was, after all, so very sensitive. However, with dahling Bonvika sitting at his side—and oh was she stunning tonight!—it would be difficult to not give in to temptation. Before he could think better of it, his tail was oh-so-delicately tickling hers under the ooze that covered them both. He almost jumped out of the mud when Bonvika responded to his gesture with a lyrical laugh and a flutter of her magnificently coiffed eyelashes. “Ah ha ha ha! Elli dear, a little... tailsy tonight, I see!” Eliskandro drew back quickly and blinked his nictitating membranes contritely. “I of course do not mean to take any… unwanted liberties...” “Oh, but did I say I objected? Ah ha ha!” And her tail immediately coiled over to tickle his, and his coiled over to tickle hers— —and an immaculately polished WA droid rolled over to take their order. * * * Eliskandro began ordering: a Cosmic Rose Shooter for Bonvika, another one for himself—but this one made with light coconut cream, “because, unlike you, dahling Bonvika, I need to watch my figure; the chef droid catering for my crew is a dear, but he is absolute murder for my silhouette”—and finally the Jumbo-Deluxe Lebnan Assorted Delicacy Platter (with extra Bababb-harvested ghanuj and herbed, caramelized chyntuck rings) for both of them. As he did, Bonvika reflected a bit. On one hand, it had really been rather obnoxious and inconvenient for that WA droid to arrive when it had, in the middle of a perfectly pleasant bout of titillating tail-tickles. On the other, they were there for dinner, after all—and Bonvika knew it would be a dinner with no parallel anywhere in the Galaxy, not even in her own excellent private kitchen back in Gebroila. Besides, what was the use of focusing on the negative when the whole point of this evening was to take her mind off the negative? The deities of Varl knew she would have enough of that when she got back to Gebroila and checked her comm messages! For now, she had a nice, warm, dank mudbath to enjoy, and that in some extremely chahming company.... Bonvika leaned back, the ooze making a pleasant shplupp as she did so, and looked around the restaurant. She saw the other Hutts relaxing in their mudbaths as they devoured their delectable dinners, and beyond them the non-swamp, ventilated section where the non-Hutts nibbled primly while sitting bolt-upright at their tables (she never could understand how beings could eat in such an uncomfortable position)... ...and then she saw it. Or rather, saw her. For, at a non-swamp table not far from the beginning of the swamp section, Bonvika’s sharp, bulging Hutt eyes caught a glimpse of a certain large, solid Geonosian female, also necklace-laden, whose arms glinted a semi-metallic dusty mauve color that could only have come from generous applications of Shanêl Semi-Permanent Chitin Dye. Grand Duchess Peascodd. Herself. Here, at the Hungry Hutt. And she was not alone. Across the table from her was a portly, older Human female—an Alderaanian, if the old-fashioned mound of hair she carried on her bobbing head was any indication, so puffed-up and arrogant that she would make His Ultimate Sliminess Jabba Desilijic Tiure pale with envy, if that were possible at all. The two of them seemed to be engaged in an intense discussion. Which meant that Peascodd hadn’t noticed Bonvika yet—but it was only a matter of time… Time to use your brains, Bonvika dahling… She shifted uneasily, brushing against Eliskandro in the process with another muddy shplupp. Then she noticed the lighting and environmental control panel on the wall next to Eliskandro, and had an idea. “Er, Elli, dear…” she ventured, “I wonder if you might lower the lights for us, please.” * * * Eliskandro gave a start, splattering some more droplets of deliciously fetid mud over the table and the walls of the booth. This evening with Bonvika was taking an unexpected turn, to say the least. He was extremely tempted right there and then to take her in his stubby arms and ravish her under the glop that bathed them for some, ahem, extracurricular activities, but a little voice in the back of his befuddled brain warned him that it might still be a little early. He gave her his most enticing grin instead. “But of course,” he answered as he blinked suggestively. In that moment he couldn’t thank himself enough for choosing Gwerlayne Interstellar’s Undetectable Blepharoplastic Khôl for the evening—his eyelashes might not be as impressive as Bonvika’s, but they were precisely what he needed for his own, more discreet brand of seduction. He activated the light controls, and the bright halogen spotlights of the swamp cubicle dimmed to a low, understated glow. “Ah, much better, dahling.” She brushed against him again. “Thank you so very much.” “You are so very welcome, my dearest,” he murmured, and with it he gave her another broad grin and another flick of the tail. A few moments later their first course arrived—one of the largest trays either of them had ever seen, laden seemingly beyond capacity with delectable dips, tidbits, and morsels. They tucked in with great gusto. Eliskandro was enjoying the caramelized chyntuck rings—the Hungry Hutt’s cooks’ reputation for having a secret spice mix was certainly well-deserved, and he would need to send Foodie over for some, should he say, culinary espionage—and savoring Bonvika’s sensual elegance as she inserted shovel-sized spoonfuls of Hom mousse in her mouth and licked her lips in delight, when a shrill voice came from the non-Hutt section of the restaurant. * * * Bonvika was now beginning to relax in earnest. The luscious mud that coated her, the delectable food spread out on the table, the fashionably faded lights, and of course Eliskandro’s exquisitely viscous presence at her side were finally managing to keep her mind off the vagaries of a businessbeing’s life. She opened her maw to allow him to feed her a live gorg dipped in scry-minted blue milk yoghurt, when a discordant voice from the non-swamp section of the restaurant—and from the direction of the grand duchess’s table, no less—nearly caused her to choke on what should have been a particularly delightful snack. “I am Baroness Marial Antilles of Alderaan,” the voice said sharply. “Few in this galaxy can claim to know manners and etiquette better than me, and I am telling you, Grand Duchess, that your family hive are displaying the understanding of common drones when it comes to these matters!” The sharp voice continued in a similar vein, throwing around such words as “protocol,” “upbringing,” and “civility” with unsettling fervor. “My word!” Bonvika exclaimed, scry-minted yogurt spraying from her mouth onto Eliskandro and the other Assorted Delicacies as she did so. “What an absolutely frightful racket!” “Frightful indeed...” Eliskandro murmured over a series of clicking sounds that must have been Peascodd’s reply. “But unfortunately not out of character for the one and only Baroness Marial Antilles.” “You know her, then?” Bonvika’s eyes bulged with surprise. “Unfortunately, yes… it is a long story for another time, which I am sure you will enjoy when I come around to narrating it to you. You know my respect for nobility, Bonvika dahling, but this particular specimen is a most unpleasant sentient being.” Meanwhile, whatever the duchess had said to the baroness had apparently had little effect, for the latter continued, in even more strident tones than before. “That is irrelevant!” she squawked. “Do you know what I caught your precious firstborn, young Dallahag, doing at firstmeal the other day? Chewing his ooph grubs with both his inner and outer mandibles! I was shocked! Why, back in my day, no self-respecting Geonosian noble family would tolerate such common, vulgar behavior—” And on and on and on, interspersed with occasional clicks and clacks of protest from Peascodd. The constant noise was starting to grate on Bonvika, and she thought she could feel hints of a migraine creeping over her. But, she thought determinedly, she was not going to let the bickering of two hoity-toity harridans spoil this lovely evening. She punched the attendant key on the table with a stubby finger and summoned the waiter. “My companion and I would like some privacy,” she said, giving Eliskandro yet another flutter of her eyelashes. “Would you be so kind as to draw the curtains?” * * * “Draw the curtains”—those three words were music to Eliskandro’s earholes. Here, finally, was the opportunity he had been hoping for all evening. Now he finally had a chance to indulge in some proper wooing with the object of his interest. And just as the plush, dark purple-red hangings swished closed (nice and thick, he noticed—all the better to drown out that mood-killing Antilles biddy), a few more things occurred to him that might advance his cause… “And two more Cosmic Rose Shooters, too, if you please,” he called out to the waiter. “And also”—he tapped at the slimeproof datapad embedded in the table—“a Big Mama Special for two, please.” “Two Cosmic Rose Shooters and the Big Mama Special,” the droid said primly. “Right away, Your Fabulousness. Would you like it Ziro-style, or strictly Big Mama? The Ziro version comes topped with extra snobar nuts.” “I believe the Ziro version would be appropriate,” Bonvika said, then leaned toward Eliskandro as she continued: “I have never had snobar nuts, but I am told they can be beneficial for the mood. Is that not right, Elli dear?” “That they can, my dahling,” Eliskandro replied with a throaty chuckle, “that they certainly can.” “Big Mama Special, Ziro version. At once, Your Fabulousness.” The waiter droid toddled off, leaving the two Hutts alone together again. A flushed Eliskandro leaned over to offer Bonvika another yogurt-slathered gorg. “Much better, wouldn’t you say, my dear?” * * * “Oh, yeff, inff’nitely,” came Bonvika’s somewhat muffled reply as she wolfed down this delectably squirmy treat, then followed it up with a heaping gob of ghanuj. With the curtains drawn, she could now only hear occasional snatches of the argument between Peascodd and Marial—obviously no snatches of the argument would have been preferable, but she would take what she could get. And part of it was just a matter of thinking on the bright side, dahling—all that din from Marial naturally would make it all the harder for the Geonosian to notice Bonvika’s presence to begin with. Once again she relaxed against Eliskandro, the tinselly streamers of her fascinator brushing the brim of his hat as she glugged the Cosmic Rose Shooter that had just arrived. The Big Mama Special came just moments later. Bonvika felt her salivary glands leap in their sockets as the WA droid placed the fragrant, steaming platter on the table. It consisted of an entire bantha neck stuffed with seasoned freekeh berries and topped with zbeebs, dried mishmishes, and snobar nuts, all of it glazed with sticky ‘asal sauce. The vapor emanating from it was an olfactory feast in and of itself—and not only olfactory, if the reflexive twitch of Eliskandro’s tail was any indication. Apparently the snobar nuts were truly all they were vaunted to be, and then some more, if their mere aroma could elicit such a reaction. The droid disappeared for a moment and returned with a large basket and a bowl. “Your flat khobz and the gorg tadpoles, to complete the finest Lebnan meal on Coruscant!” it squeaked in its dapper tone. “May I advise Your Fabulousnesses to, ahem, take it easy on the snobar nuts. Their effect may be somewhat… inordinate on those who are unfamiliar with them.” Its photoreceptors flashed pointedly toward the miniature swamp, where sustained lapping indicated that some tail action was still going on. Bonvika chuckled like a schoolgirl caught in the middle of some mischief. “Not to worry, dahling, not to worry! We have it all under control. We are Hutts, after all!” As soon as the nosy mechanical had left, pulling the curtains closed as it went, she turned to the mound of food. “Oh, Elli! This is so mahvelous! And look at these adohrable little tadpoles! To think that we will be eating them! It would be a shame were they not so delightful!” Her finger came to rest on the edge of the bowl where the little creatures were giggling in their fresh pickling liquid, and she was about to pluck one out and observe it closer, when a particularly audacious brush of Eliskandro’s tail against her midsection caused her to give a start. “Oh my, oh my!” she exclaimed as her hand slammed on the table, causing the bowl of baby gorgs, and a large quantity of their brine, to fly into the air. * * * The heady fumes of the snobar nuts had caused Eliskandro’s eyes to glaze over, but as the scene unfolded in slow motion in front of him he had the distinct impression that several things were happening at once. Some of the gorg tadpoles landed in the mudbath with splitches and splatches. Some simply fell on the floor outside the booth and hopped away. But most of them—and the biggest of them—landed on the plate of stuffed bantha neck with a gigantic SPLAT! that sent sauce, nuts, zbeebs, mishmishes, and meat morsels flying all over the booth in a colorful explosion. Neither Eliskandro’s hat, tie, and waistcoat nor Bonvika’s fascinator, boas, and necklaces were spared as both Hutts found themselves covered in what was to have been their dinner. “Oh no!” wailed Bonvika, surveying her sauce-stained finery. “Just look at me! My finest Deyor boas and my finest Hayrmees jewels, all covered in glop! Oh, how terrible!” Her dismay, however, didn’t last long, and soon she had erupted into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. “Oh, dear, oh dear,” she hiccuped. “They’re everywhere! The baby gorgs! They’re everywhere! And I am so. wonderfully. ticklish!” She wriggled about frantically, brushing her tail against Eliskandro’s once more, and let out a squeal that was half-delight, half-despair. “One of them just slipped inside that little roll of flesh in my back! Oh, Elli, I might just die laughing!” “Ah, not to worry, my dear Bonvika.” Eliskandro grinned slyly and slithered closer. He placed a hand on her generous backside, sending a shiver down her tail. “No death will be necessary tonight. I can take care of that easily.” “Can you really, dahling? But it’s so—OH! EEEE!” For just then Eliskandro had gone fishing for the tadpole that had inserted itself in that most inconvenient spot, while his long, slimy, pink tongue extended to lick the ‘asal sauce from Bonvika’s neck and shoulders, probing the nooks and crannies of her leathery skin with luxuriant slurps and occasionally moving her necklaces aside to reach between them. It was not long before Bonvika’s giggles reached a paroxysm, and she squirmed and squealed in ticklish delight at his every motion, occasionally exclaiming “Oh, Elli!” and “Oh, dahling!” and “Ah ha ha!” All the while, the little gorgs were diving in and out of the mud around them happily, adding to the overall tingling sensation that engulfed them both. And by the time Eliskandro lifted up Bonvika’s boas to lap a splotch of sauce from the the soft spot at the base of her head, she simply could contain herself no longer and burst out in a stentorian voice with: “OH HA HA HA HA! ELLI DAHLING! YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY MAHVELOUS!!” * * * The outburst fell on the Hungry Hutt like a bomb. Gasps and exclamations gave way to quizzical quiet as every eye, eyespot, eyestalk, and optical sensor in both the swamp and non-swamp sections turned toward the dark purple-red curtain covering the large corner booth. And a moment later, a deep, officious female voice barked out a single name: “Bonvika!” Bonvika and Eliskandro froze, and looked at each other, noticing all the ‘asal sauce, zbeebs, meat, mishmishes, pickling brine, and snobar nuts still covering each others’ persons. Bonvika grabbed one of the pillowcase-sized cloth napkins and began assiduously cleaning herself and her necklaces; Eliskandro did the same, carefully dabbing sauce from his bird-printed bowtie. The voice spoke again, this time much, much closer: “Bonvika, is that you?” There was no mistaking that voice now—and no way to avoid it, either. Courage, dahling! Bonvika drew a deep breath, rearranged her necklaces and boa, and straightened her fascinator. Then she took the curtain cord in hand and pulled it open— —to find herself face to face with a large, solid Geonosian female. “Ah, of course.” The newcomer’s massive mandibles clacked as she spoke, and her expression was as immobile as stone. “It is you.” Bonvika found herself quivering like a hypothermic blob even as she tried to brace herself for the worst. “Why, y-yes, in-in-indeed, Y-Your G-Grace! A most p-pleasant s-surprise, t-t-to be sh-sh-sure!” “Quite. I thought you would be pleased to know that your shipment with the wroshyr display case was delivered to my hive sphere two rotations ago.” “Oh! Oh oh oh!” Bonvika threw in a few additional “ohs” for good measure, hardly believing what she was hearing and wondering if this wasn’t some sort of bizarre dream induced by those Cosmic Rose Shooters. “W-was it really? How—how fabulous!” “Indeed,” Peascodd continued in the same prim monotone, her expression still motionless. “And I must say I am greatly impressed. It is truly a magnificent piece of workmanship, and the advanced environmental controls will make it an ideal choice for housing the particularly delicate items. It truly promises to be the ideal storage solution for a collection such as my own. I am grateful.” “Ah! Well! Y-your Grace is most w-welcome! I’m—I’m so glad!” “Now I must return to my table, as the baroness will be wondering where I am. Good evening.” “Why yes! A very good evening to Your G-grace as well!” With that, Peascodd strutted back to her table. Bonvika sagged against Eliskandro’s waistcoat-clad side and exhaled gustily. “Elli, Elli, Eliskandro dahling,” she sighed. “I feel as though my nervous system has been put through a meat grinder.” * * * Eliskandro stifled a sigh. Grand Duchess Peascodd had definitely ruined their moment of snobar-and-tadpole-induced licentiousness, but he wasn’t going to give up quite yet, given the leaps that his conquest of Bonvika’s amorous graces had made tonight. He gathered her warmly close, twined his tail around hers and planted a kiss on the side of her head, right on a remaining spot of ‘asal sauce. “I do not blame you in the least, my dear. Not in the least. You handled that old reprobate of a Geonosian most impressively, I have to say.” “Oh, Elli! How in the Galaxy are you so good and kind and gentle after all that’s happened? After I and my ridiculous businessbeing drama have thoroughly wrecked our evening together! Oh, dahling”—here her voice swelled with a sob—“I cannot apologize to you profusely enough!” “Think nothing of it, my love, nothing at all!” Eliskandro consoled her, then lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “There’s always tomorrow.” “TOMORROW?” blubbered Bonvika. “But Elli, dahling, you know I’m booked solid with the Midlevels Fine Arts Council all day tomorrow! And I must depart for Nal Hutta first thing the morning after that or else I won’t get back in time to inaugurate this year’s noonday salon concert series! Oh, dahling… you don’t know how much I would love to attempt another scrumptious dinner out with you, but—” “Ah, ho ho, who said I was talking about dinner?” He batted his eyelashes at her, hoping against hope that the splotches of ‘asal and nuts hadn’t ruined his application of Gwerlayne Interstellar’s Undetectable Blepharoplastic Khôl. “You will certainly need a moment of relaxation after a hard day’s work tomorrow, won’t you, dahling? I will remind you that my salon offers the very best Hutt massage facilities of the Galactic Core.” He straightened himself a little and added with a beguiling smile, “And I would like to add that Shazam’s one and only Hutt massage specialist is, as you said yourself, mahvelous.” the end Spoiler: Notes The Hungry Hutt restaurant was first mentioned by Raissa Baiard in an awards ceremony skit back in 2016 and became an official sponsor of the fanfic awards the following year. We just took the idea and ran away with it. This story borrows liberally from the Fanon thread: The Elellumiwi that get a mention at the beginning of this story are Kahara’s brainchild, The Cosmic Rose Shooter was created by leiamoody, Hutt Lebnan cuisine was invented by Chyntuck following a Q&A with Gamiel, The various cosmetics and fashion houses mentioned in this story were created by Chyntuck. ‘Snobar’, ‘freekeh’, ‘zbeeb’, ‘mishmish’, ‘khobz’ and ‘’asal’ are the Arabic words for pine nuts, wheat berries, raisins, apricots, bread and honey. The idea for the main course, stuffed bantha neck, is a Levantine dish called raqbet ghanam, a stuffed lamb neck (Chyn note: highly recommended if you can get your hands on it). ‘Blepharoplasty’ is a legitimate RL word that means eyelid surgery. Wroshyr wood. As regards what will go in the display case, Peascodd is established as being a doll collector in Pandemonium at a Hutt's Garden Party and Righteous Indignation of a Hutt Betrayed. Rose Evergreen: This ship and the OC ensemble making up its crew frequently work as Bonvika’s agents, as noted in Shaman, Traveler Oracle chapter 15, The Sisterhood of the Rose Evergreen, and Till the Shades Lengthen. Dallahag, Peascodd’s eldest son, is an OC mentioned here for the first time. His name is based on Sir Galahad of Arthurian legend. Ooph grubs are just made up! “quivering like a hypothermic blob”: Specifically meaning one of these.