“Do it for the gram,” she mutters to herself, poking at the concoction before her with her spork.
Twinx has taken it upon herself to try every single dish Grundo’s Cafe has to offer: from the addictive cherries jubilee, to some of the more subpar dishes such as the deep-fried galactic…food mass (of questionable origins).
She had tried just about everything, posting her vivacious reviews of the dishes for all her Neogram followers to see. Well, the five of them that actually bothered to watch and respond to her reviews, anyway (not that the lack of interest deterred her).
Only one dish remains. She wonders if this must be some kind of record, as not many were capable of stomaching mouldy gruncheese or space slug soup. She’d hardly been able to keep any of it in herself, and had spent countless nights by the seat of the toilet, downing antacids. Then again, there were those who made entire careers out of eating gross and spooky foods, so this would hardly be considered a feat.
So why is she even doing this?
There’s the nice discount, sure. Gargarox had always been such a darling, often providing her with dishes “on the house” in exchange for the video reviews. Free advertising, good for business.
But was free food even worth the anguish it sent through her digestive tract? Perhaps, perhaps not. Either way, she does it—not because there’s any valid reason to continue, rather because she’s utterly hardheaded when it comes to any of her personal projects. Start something, finish it; even if that something had started as a drunken dare.
“Bet,” she had told them, though there wasn’t even any money riding on this—only her word.
However, the way the Grundo’s House Special just winked at her is enough to undo all of her efforts.
“Nooooope. Nope. Can’t do it. The line is drawn right here,” she announces, stopping the video recording on her phone.
It isn’t the eyes or even the movement of them that unnerves her, but the thought of it being sentient enough to flirt.
areudirty
snowghoul
theartofmadeline
dededos
romaincrisis
