What’s On The Menu?

Everything left his pallet wanting more. He tried it all, from pink-eyed newts served on a bed of arugula with a raspberry compote, to a fried penguin stuffed with artichoke hearts and topped with an amber glaze. Even the cocoa dipped grasshoppers suspended in whipped cream from yak milk failed to move him. “Something more!” he bellowed. In came vegetables so rare they had no names, fruits that looked and moved more like small mammals, candied this and pickled that, but no, “Something more!” continued to issue from his insatiable mouth. It wasn’t until a passing grifter decided to take a turn, and concocted a meal made from, according to the grifter, the last remaining dodo egg, powdered with a moon rock, set in a bed of barnacles scraped from the chin of a blue whale by a one-legged pirate. “Finally,” he sighed upon completing the meal. “Someone gets me. Someone finally gets me.”

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