《Tooth and Scale》 Chapter 1: The last day Scrape. Flip. Scrape. Flip. Scrape. Flip. Scrape. Flip. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. Slice. Slice. Mix. Mix. Fry. Fry. Scrape. Flip. Scrape. Flip. Scrape. Flip. Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. Sweep. Sweep. Sweep. "Nice work today Steve. The customers appreciated it, we had folks raving about the food all day." Noises come in from the manager of this place. My throat seizes as I attempt to reply. I haven''t spoken in hours, and the heat of the kitchen has clogged me up like the greasy arteries of someone eating the large order of fried chicken. "Thanks. I''m glad, you know. Everyone''s gotta eat, ''s good to do my part." My voice comes out like a smoker, and it''s no wonder. I''ve been sucking down lungfuls of hot smoky air every day for years. I wonder if I keep at it if the carbon in there will make a diamond someday. "Well, that''s it for for the weekend rush. You have a lovely few days off, Lord knows you''ve been working hard enough." "Thanks boss, see you on wednesday." I step outside into the night, the cool air a balm against my sweaty skin, a refrigerant for my soul as well as my flesh. A thousand thousand winking eyes stare at me from above but I don''t care that I''m in the limelight. Neither the moon or the stars are close enough for me to hear their criticism. Whether they think positively of me or stare down with hate, I will never know. It''s seven miles back to my house, accompanied only by the gentle crunch of my footsteps. Meteors streak by in the heavens, a flash in the pan. There seems to be an awful lot of them tonight, however. They keep coming like the orders fly over the counter at work. One, another, two more, I see hundreds over the course of an hour. It makes for a lovely backdrop to my journey. One streaks across the sky more brightly than the others. A flash and a bang resound up the road from me. My jaw hangs slack for a moment as I realize that less than a quarter mile from me, a space rock has fallen, and I know where it is. A primal urge surges up from within. The space rock, it must be mine. I need it. I break into a jog. My flesh trembles with exertion. Each foot hits the ground and I build a mantra as I hit a sprint. Space. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.Rock. Space. Rock. Space. Rock. I haven''t run like this in a while. My vision spins a little as my blood swirls like tomatoes in the blender. I should really make some more pasta sauce when I get home. Nothing like a vigorous tomato flavor to accent an evening in, after all, and it''s the weekend. Before I know it, I''ve arrived. There''s a small crater. In the crater is some kind of lizard. It has long legs and long arms, a linguine thin set of limbs really, and its skin is burnt black and smoking with heat. Its ugly, oblong head has a mouth full of little pointy teeth and it stands slightly taller than my waist. It struggles to stand and wobbles like a drunk, attempting to face me. It hisses angrily, obviously directed at me, but its eyes are also burnt and I can see it''s in rather poor shape. I pause for a moment, and simply stare at it, thinking. There''s no space rock in the crater. Did a strange lizard really fall from the sky? I''m brought out of my thoughts as it leaps forward, lunging its head forward to snap at me. In a long practiced but somewhat unfamiliar motion, I snatch it by the neck and head as it lunges and swing in a circular motion overhead, using both hands due to the weight. My arms burn in agony as I spin the creature in circles overhead, maintaining a vigorous spin. This motion is the same I used to use to kill chickens on the farm, using their own weight to remove their head as I twisted their spine until it came loose. This lizard is no chicken, and the heavy weight of the creature forces me to drop it, but I''ve definitely broken it''s spine. I''m panting in exhaustion, and the creature is gurgling as it struggles to breathe, head facing the wrong way. Despite the height of the thing it was probably only 40 lbs. If it had been any heavier, and if I hadn''t spent so much time killing lunging roosters when I was younger... I shudder. This could have been the end of me. Then it dawns on me. There''s no space rock. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I wanted a space rock! Stupid lizard.... Wait, lizards are edible, right? This thing looks pretty stringy but maybe with a meat tenderizer and a marinade... Maybe I at least will get some fresh protein with dinner. Reaching into my jacket, I unzip a pocket within and double check to make sure I have my favorite santoku. Unclasping the sheath, I leave one hand on the handle as I take a closer look at the lizard. A couple of rough taps with my boot to make sure it isn''t faking its wounds and I release the handle of my knife. It''s still alive and obviously at least partially paralyzed. That''s good, if I can get it home before it dies the meat should taste better. I don''t exactly have a nice counter to butcher here, after all, and I''d hate for the creature to start to spoil. Grasping its neck with both hands, I swing it over my shoulder and ignore the crackling of its broken spine as it bounces with every step. It''s dying gasps in my ear fade just a single block before I reach my apartment. Space lizard... What kind of dish should I make? There''s so many possibilities. Chapter 2: Dinner My eyes squinted. This day just kept getting weirder. After carefully skinning, gutting, deboning, and sorting all the lizard pieces, I was left a bit confused. The bones were purple. One of the organs in its chest cavity was a lumpy purple crystal. Instead of a brain, the creature possessed an organ in its skull that resembled a twisted mass of tentacles. The skin had an unnatural hardness except in the crevices between scales. Was this really safe to eat? All doubt that this was some kind of space lizard had fled after I had butchered it. I banished my doubts. I hadn''t gotten my space rock. I would be damned if I let something like cowardice stop me now. I had already risked my life to eat space lizard, after all, and the meat smelled fine. I threw the bones and the scraps in a pot and started making stock. The meat was tough, but thin slices in a salt bath were soaked for some time, then introduced to a tenderizing hammer. The remainder of the meat, I placed in tubs of marinades in the fridge. I whipped up some dough and threw a couple loaves of bread in the oven while I worked. A quick saut¨¦ with minced onions, garlic, and salt. Carrots and daikon radish were marinating in rice vinegar and sugar in the fridge. I sliced up some pickles, some cilantro, some jalape?o, some limes, and sliced the bread. Some mayonnaise from the fridge, and in no time at all I had a Space Lizard Banh Mi sitting on a plate. To say I was nervous was an understatement. To say I was worried would be closer to the truth, but I had made up my mind and I would not turn back now. I took a tentative bite. It tasted like a normal Bahn Mi, except I had used too much pickles. The meat was rather gamey and a bit chewy, but nothing too far out of my expectations. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I ate the sandwich a bite at a time, pondering how to cook the rest of the meat, having tasted it now and gained a portion of its measure. A worthy foe, a challenge but one for tomorrow. the strength drained out of me like a rag wrung out over the sink as my adrenaline faded. It had been a busy weekend, and now that my stomach was full, I went to go read and let the weight of the food drag my eyelids down after a mere 20 pages. I woke suddenly, sweating and knocking my book on the floor. A strange humming was coming from inside me. I was burning up, and a vibrating, stabbing sensation was coming from my abdomen. Groggily, I got up and grabbed some heartburn medication, some melatonin, and some nyquil, and downed them with a huge glass of water, tucked myself into bed and went back to sleep. My alarm began blaring bright and early to get me to go check the stock. Bad practice, I know, but my stock burner was strictly and precisely temperature controlled, and I had a rather fancy magnetic stirrer for it. I found with such measures in place I could leave it unattended for a few hours with no risk either of fire or of ruining the broth. The joys of modern technology made it just a bit easier to get the perfect product with as little effort as possible. Stopping in the bathroom briefly, I turned on the faucet to splash water on my groggy self. The faucet handle came off in my hand, leaving the water running. I stared at it for a moment, then set the handle on the counter, carefully twisting the remaining nub to turn off the water. Annoying. Entering the kitchen the smell of stock was overwhelming. Lightning crawled up my spine as the scent sent all the right signals directly into my brain. My stomach growled, so violently my whole body trembled. I was HUNGRY and my brain took a back seat as I lunged forward and grasped the stock pot, lifting it to my lips. The hot liquid burned on the way down, but not with a terrestrial fire. I felt my guts contort and twist to accommodate the liquid as my back arched and I drank the entire twenty gallon pot. When I regained control, I was crunching down the last of the softened bones from the bottom of the pot. My fingers left massive dents in the aluminum stockpot where I had grasped the pot during my bout of insanity. My mouth was hardly burned and my belly protruded obnoxiously, but it was feeling lighter by the moment. Looking at the dents where my fingers had ruined my stockpot brought some annoyance to mind, but a grin came to my face anyway. I had space lizard superpowers now. So what if I was a little hungry. I had a culinary degree, if I couldn''t deal with a little hunger, then I was a failure of a chef. First I was going to need a new stockpot though. If that hunger was anything to go by, I was going to need to pull the rest of the bones and scraps out of the fridge and get cooking.