Honeymoon: Evening Out

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A few days after the incidents at the beach and spending them just rubbing on sunburn-balm and watching the local soap operas (what IS this thing with squids? It is so bizzare...) in their hotel room, the couple is more than ready to explore the city again.

Namely it's culinary exploits. And armed with re-translated brochures, Laini's directions and her food-scanning PDA plug-in for compatibility...

Its time to test out Susie Sells Seafood by the Sea Shore. And really, it's a bit of what you'd expect of a place named as such. Through the driftwood doorway and aging painted sign, reading 'out eat the head cook, get your meals free for a week!' is the main indoor eating area. The walls are built out of a combo of driftwood, shell bits and sand, with use-polished driftwood furniture, and there's a viewing patio of the shore... made out of time-frozen water.

Comments

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"Well, I hope we find something filling, then..." Bob trails off as he spots a notice at the bottom of the menu--the same notice, in fact, that was posted by the door outside. "Hey, did you see this thing about an eating contest?"

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"Was on the sign out front..." Dot says, looking down at the menu and then at Bob. "...are you suggesting.."

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He shrugs. "It's worth a shot, isn't it?"

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...Considering their appetites...

"Well...if anything happens, we'll call Laini to bail us out later with money from home."

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As if on cue, Sarong Lady bustles back in with a tray of drinks balanced in one hand. "I have your club sodas here," she says, placing each one on the sprites' table in turn. "The sample tray will be out in a few more minutes."

Bob gives Dot a questioning look: You want to tell her, or should I?

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Bob is given a return smirk.

It's the one where nothing good comes of this.

"Excuse me...Miss? What's this bit about out-eating the head chef?"

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"Exactly what it says, ma'am," replies Sarong Lady. "Anyone who can out-eat Susie will have all their meals comped for the next seven days. We've been in business for fifteen years and only two people have managed to win so far!"

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"Well...after the sampler... We would like to take a shot at that."

Picky, but big eaters.

Oh the waitstaff will just -love- them.

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"Oh, really." Sarong Lady raises an eyebrow. "Both of you? Because the contest is strictly one person at a time."

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"...really now.." Both of them are fairly hungry... she glances at Bob: You want to have a go or shall I?

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"Oh, you go ahead, honey. You're eating for two already." Bob glances at the server. "Or does that disqualify her?"

"Oh, no, that'll be just fine," says Sarong Lady with an odd little smile. "Are you sure you want the sampler platter first? Wouldn't want to spoil your appetite..."

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"Yes, I'll just have my dear husband do the taste-testing." Dot replies, smoothly, beaming.

With that, Sarong-Lady smiles, taking down their challenge and heading back into the kitchen. A few moments later a small grouping of 3 wait-otters trot out carrying a large platter between them with various tidbits of items from the menu.

Oooh. Some of those things even smell good.

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Bob's eyes light up. He quickly starts re-arranging the tidbits, setting aside anything that doesn't register to his keytool senses. That still leaves a good two-thirds of the food to be tested, though.

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It's a good two-thirds that Dot's going to be using her PDA on, passing it over each item and setting the ones that register with a faint ping close to her. One piece, a particularly gooey clump roe, wrapping in a transparent piece of kelp, is snatched up and devoured. There may or not be a foodgasm sound occuring soon after.

"Mhmm...."

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Bob beams. "That good, eh?"

("I'll have what she just ate," remarks a sea turtle seated at the next table over.)

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"Mhmm...you're going to be lucky if you grab a piece of.." She trails off looking at otters for what that was.

"Naiad Roe in a twilight-kelp wrap."

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"Nice." Bob picks up a cracker with something blue smeared on it. "And this is...?"

"Bunyip paté on a rice cracker," replies another of the otters. "Caught fresh this morning."

Bob nibbles on a corner experimentally, then makes a face. "Too salty."

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Might be the salt marshes that Bunyips live in. ...Or you know, the Bunyips themselves. But that's really a poisoned Dragon's Liver kind of territory. Did they poison the dragon, or just the liver? ...In Underhill, you're probably getting chicken livers if you know what's good for your continued existence.

"Mhmm... What's this?" Dot selects what looked like a slice of vibrant lime-green meat on a piece of bread.

"Honey-smoked Grindylow! Very good with a little bit of bee larvae." Pipes up the third otter.

A small cautious nibble. "Mhmm...very sweet, with a sour tang afterward."

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* * *

Numerous food samples later, the saronged waitress returns. "Our chef is ready to begin the competition," she says to Dot. "If you'll come with me..."

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...?? ooh ofcourse, it's a spectator sport.

"Alright..." Dot smiles getting up. Bob can monitor her health while she does thing, just in case something should go wrong.

Following the waitress to a new table set up on a small stage in the middle of the restaurant, the petite challenger settles herself at the table to a chorus of whispered wagers.

"Five gibsons says she tanks out in the first ten minutes." "Bull to that. Eight Mandril heads says she lasts half that time."

"Twenty mooncakes on her winning." "You're insane."

At last, the head chef strolls up to the stage, all 12 feet nine inches of Susie, an orca in an impressive and pristine white chef's outfit.

"You know what you're getting yourself in for?" She grins, settling down into her chair with a protesting creak from the wood.

"Oh...I believe I do." Is the calm, collected reply as the scales are brought out for weighing the food.

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"Can I switch tables to somewhere closer to my wife?" murmurs Bob to one of the wait-otters.

There's no way in hell he's letting her out of his sight.

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"Certainly, sir." One of them pipes up, leading him through the crowd to a rather nice seat. It pays to butter up the spouse of the person who is likely to go to the hospital from different forms of food poisoning.

Such as the Walrus who tried to out-eat Susie in fried fish.

Two similar platters of sushi are brought out, weighed and set down in front of the contenders.

Now, it's up to whoever has the biggest appetite.

...We're rather hoping Susie has not eaten yet today.

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Oh, trust us, Bob is monitoring Dot and Mairi's vitals and will bring the contest to a close the instant either of them show any signs of distress.

The saronged waitress clears her throat. "Ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise! We have a special treat for you tonight. This young lady--ah--what is your name, ma'am?" she asks the green sprite.

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"Dot Matrix."

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"--Dot Matrix has challenged our own chef Susie to an eat-off!"

There's a smattering of applause from the tables.

"Each contestant has been given an identical tray of food," the waitress continues. "Further identical trays will be provided as they are consumed. The competition ends when one contestant concedes or collapses, at which point the remaining food will be weighed. Lightest tray wins. Susie! Are you ready?"

"Bring it."

"Dot Matrix! Are you ready?"

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"Let's get this show started."

"You heard the lady folks! and without further ado..."

B-BWONNG-G

Somewhere behind the contestants, a large gong is hit. And the feeding frenzy begins as the Orca chef starts into her platter.

Dot is making her own quick headway through the platter in front of her. It's all very good sushi, but it's also some of the lower priced ones from the earlier sampler.

You don't feed the eating contestants the tenderloin when the sirloin comes much cheaper.

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Susie isn't even bothering with picking up the food--she just reaches down and takes huge CHOMPs out of the pile on the platter, to the crowd's evident delight.

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Oh so it's going to be played -that- way is it?

Fine, enough with the dainty, time for some trick-eating. The petite woman is now flip-tossing pieces of sushi into her mouth by the dozen.

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The other diners' enthusiasm increases even further. Several of them start pounding on the tables, and pretty soon the whole room is chanting "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!"

...all except for Bob, who is torn between boggling at the contest and boggling at everyone else in the room.

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OM NOMNOMNOM... Aww the platter's empty. And a half second later Suzie belches, displaying her empty platter to the audience.

Dot's made it through the first course, to the cheers of the crowd the next set of platters is produced.

Bring it on

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And so it continues. More and more food is brought out. Wagers are paid off and new ones are made. There seems to be no end to the appetite of either competitor.

Until...

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Susie is slowing down in her vigor at devouring the platter in front of her. She's actually getting full.

And Dot is not showing any signs of stopping folks. While the head chef may be lagging on her plate, Dot's almost half-way done with this one and still going strong! In another minute she's already polished off this platter and asked for another one.

GOOD CROW.

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Susie gives the green woman a strange look. "How c'n somebody that small eat so much?" she mutters.

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"High metabolism and one very hungry little baby on the way." Dot replies quietly, smiling. "Although I didn't think I'd be eating this much."

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Susie grunts and turns back to her plate, but with considerably less enthusiasm than before.

Scarcely five minutes later, she stops, shakes her head, and pushes the plate away from her.

She knows when she's licked.

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And the gong sounds off not half second later.

"And we have a winner folks!" The saronged-woman yells out above the jeers, wolf-howls, catcalls and general ruckus of the crowd as the remade bets are paid up and the losers just stare.

Polishing off her platter (why let good food go to waste), Dot reclines back into her chair smiling.

She actually feels -full-. ...ish.

"Mrs. Matrix, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I don't suppose I could order a slice of pie for dessert?"

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And that blue guy in the front? Is giving his wife a standing ovation.