Explore "The Secret Martians" by Jack Sharkey on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
An hour later, when Clatclit had gone off to do whatever it is that sugarfeet do when they're not playing charades with Earthmen, I joined Snow in a so-so luncheon she'd been able to put together with the help of a few of our dragonish friends. It seemed to be mostly a species of watery tumble-weed, plus a smattering of rubbery white cubes that tried hard to taste like mushrooms, but failed. I was trying to be light and casual.
"We may be poisoned, you know," I remarked, chewing valiantly on a mouthful of the stuff.