I’m sure that the astute among you have pieced together that Girry is, in fact, an alien. Well, to you, me, and everyone else, he is an alien. To Girry, he is confused. Allow me to explain. He is part of an alien race called “greenies.” That isn’t their actual name, mind you. It’s a nickname. One that became so popular with everyone they eventually forgot the species’ original name. Including said species.

  The nickname was made popular by a famous poet in the literature sector of the universe. The said poet wrote a poem called “My skin is more green than yours.” And after many years it became very popular. Then it was hated. And then, long after the poet had died, it became popular once more amongst bored housewives who sat around waiting for their cheating husbands to come home—

  Anyway, thanks to Girry’s species, he has an unusually high tolerance for alcohol. So, even though both Spiffy and Girry drank, only Spiffy got slightly tipsy. It’s worth noting that the alcohol Spiffy had made is ninety-nine and a half percent alcohol—

  A loud whistle of steam, bursting from the dirt, told Girry that the roast was done.

  He smirked at Spiffy. “Ya ready for some good eats?”

  “Oh, yes. I am absolutely famished,” beamed Spiffy.

  Girry quickly scraped the coals, ash, and dirt off the grid, then moved it to a nearby tree using two sticks. Spiffy watched him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Is there a reason you move the grid so far away?”

  “Hot. It can burn you.” He paused. “If it’s far away, no accidental burns.”

  “I see,” nodded Spiffy whilst watching Girry carefully remove the aluminium package from the clay oven and unwrap a pale-looking roast.

  Girry gave it a sniff, then tasted the liquid. He frowned and then tasted it again. As the odd screams continued around them, Spiffy sat silently as he watched Girry frozen in thought. It is actually a rather common thing for him. He would often freeze in place after tasting something he cooked.

  Apparently, all of his bodily functions stop working at that moment. Except the brain and taste buds. Both of which start working incredibly hard to pinpoint what the dish is missing.

  After several moments, maybe more, he finally moved, and with a hand behind his back, he pointed to spices, mumbling as he read the labels. After a while, he made a hum and quickly grabbed a bottle. Stroking his mustache, he eyed the spice, then the roast, and with a shrug, he opened the bottle and sprinkled it on the meat.

  Spiffy watched the whole thing and couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Girry, what’s that spice you’ve just put on?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “This,” he said, holding it up, “is a curious flavor I found. I call it saltbug.”

  “Salt… bug?” repeated Spiffy slowly.

  Girry nodded. “It has saltiness and a bit o’ bite.”

  “I see. And the meat, is it ready now?”

  “Nah, need color. Gonna grill it fer a few minutes,” he said, adding more logs to the fire.

  Nodding, Spiffy sat back and watched as Girry carried on. Stoking the fire, putting rocks around it, and then doing an odd dance followed by placing the grid on said rocks.

  While he waited for the grid to heat up, he went back to the roast for a final taste test and added a bit more saltbug and a new spice that looked like sand. Once he was happy, he placed the roast onto the grid and enjoyed the satisfying sizzle, hiss, and moaning of the meat.

  While it sizzled, Girry pulled out a pair of tongs and skillfully sidestepped a rather threatening stream of smoke, ash, and meat fat as he squinted through wisps of smoke at the meat. Grinning the entire time, he added a few splashes of juices from the foil and turned the meat.

  Once it had a nice char, he took it off and placed it back onto the aluminium, closed it, and left it to rest for a few minutes.

  By this point, the smells had caused Spiffy to leak at the mouth as well as visibly shake. Billy, too, drawn by the scents, had emerged from the ship to investigate. Wandering to the aluminium package, he sniffed it and prepared to swallow it whole until a stone whizzed past his head.

  “Oi, leave it. Ya had your food; that’s ours,” said Girry, sitting down.

  Billy grumbled and made a dissatisfied face before waddling over to the fire and lying down. He also made absolutely sure to lie down with his back facing Girry.

  Frowning at the creature. “Ok, fine. I’ll give ya a piece ya big baby.”

  Spiffy chuckled quietly to himself and then finished off the last of his alcohol.

  As the sun started setting, the yodeling from the insects shifted to mating sounds, which caused other animals to shout at them to keep quiet. One animal in particular made Girry chuckle.

  “Keep quiet ya noisy bastards!”

  Spiffy, however, was oblivious to the sounds and instead stared deep into the fire as it crackled gently.

  Colors in the sky shifted from green to a deep red as the birds and aquatic animals began fighting each other once again. A warm wind blew, carrying the subtle smell of ocean chlorine, the forest, and the char-grilled, mouthwatering scent of the meat.

  By the time Girry cut the first slice of the meat, the sun had already fully set, with the ocean’s glow illuminating the shoreline. The meat was perfectly pink and dripped with juices filled with flavor. Both of them tasted it and died. Or, at least that’s what they claimed. “It was so good that I died and saw my grandmother. She slapped me for dying, and then I woke up.”

  According to Girry, it was such a common reaction that he called the dish Granny’s Slap—

  Anyway, both of them ate like they’d been starving for months. And no, he didn’t forget to give a piece to Billy. In fact, after tasting it, Billy spat it out and looked at Girry like he had just tried to poison him. He then grumbled his way back to the fire and went back to sleep.

  Once the two had finished, Girry wrapped the bones in foil and stored them in the ship.

  “That was fantastic,” beamed Spiffy. “I have never in my life had something so good. You, sir, have outdone yourself.”

  Burping and rubbing his belly. “Same here. I’ve never eaten anything like that.”

  They both sighed and then sat in silence. As the fight in the ocean escalated, Girry and Spiffy already made mental notes to catch more feathered lizards in the morning while relaxing by the fire.