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brotherschneller · 6 years ago

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Gronkle the Survivalist Chef: Search of the Book Dragons

On a fair afternoon day, where the wind was drifting slowly through the dense woods, the humidity was low and the air was cool, Gronkle could not have picked a better day to lead her expedition into the Misty Wilds. A bit of a misnomer that name, she felt. It was neither misty nor wild enough for her tastes as the Survivalist Gourmet. Her long black hair was pulled up into a pony tail, keeping any wayward strands of hair out of her eyes, and it was the look she wore typically when she should go out into the wilderness of the unruly restaurants of Linguania. Drabbed in her finest khaki survival gear, she smoothed down her shorts, taking a moment that if her film crew were going to start shooting, she was a little too clean for her presentation. She had been walking through the woods with them for over thirty minutes, after getting a good distance away from their Jeep to make it seem more believable. In a display of her ingenuity, she reached down, and grabbed a handful of dirt, readily smearing it across select places. Her legs for starters, moving up to her shorts, button up t-shirt and across her cheeks. To top it off, she threaded a few twigs into her hair, just to improve the look, accessorizing with nature itself. With a quick look over herself, she would let herself lean against a tree, one arm holding herself up. Gronkle knew what her fans liked, watching her flex her muscles for the show. This position may not be the best as far as putting on such a display, so she shifted once more, this time leaning with her back against the tree, arms folded in front of her chest. As she gave her muscles a quick flex, she grinned, showing off her pearly whites and large, tusk like canines.

“Hello, fellow travelers!” She said in her rather peppy tone, keeping her big grin on her face.

“It is I, Gronkle! Daughter of Grankle, son of Jeff! And on this week’s episode of Survival Kitchen, we’re infiltrating the mystical world of the Book Dragons. Now, as you’re all aware. We made contact with these beings about ten years ago, and we recognize their sovereignty. I’ve got my passport just in case, and so do my crew. But the Book Dragons are all a very accommodating as far as traveling and living with them I heard, but no one has televised an excursion into their daily lives until this day!”

Gronkle shouted, raising her arm up into the air for a fist pump, making sure to all the while show off her guns in the motion. This was a common movement for her, something she would do out in public if someone saw her on the street as she was ‘back from a grueling incursion into a deadly five star restaurant.’

“Make sure you brace for an amazing display today, these creatures might get a little feisty as I happen to be a gourmet chef myself, as you’re well aware. The Jungle Safari being my flagship restaurant after all. So will their lifestyle and cooking prowess match up to mine? I sincerely doubt it.”

With Gronkle leading the charge, she would push through the brush and trees into a clearing they had spotted before setting up to record. As they had entered the clearing, their eyes all squinted near collectively to let their eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of a clear sky day. What was before them was truly a sight to behold. Though this species of dragon had just recently been discovered, they had incredible non-euclidean housing. A vibrant display of color, each house its own flair, towering over and stretching in strange ways. Gronkle had seen this before when they first discovered the Book Dragons and the subsequent political activities, but to behold it was a thing of its own. Her jaw dropped in amazement at the scene before her. Upright, bipedal dragons, wearing modern day clothing as if they themselves were just another town in Linguania. Young dragons playing some sort of variant of kickball, elderly dragons, wearing white button up shirts, brown pants with suspenders, having a conversation in a nearby park, and what looked to be a hotdog vendor in the middle, wheeling through a stand to set up for the day.

It was well known that, even as a connoisseur of the finer things in life, sometimes it was good to eat a shitty hotdog. Something to draw you back to simpler times, a time before she took up the mantle of the survivalist chef. She could smell the processed cooked meat now, salivating already, and recalling how she met her first girlfriend during a hotdog eating contest, and her boyfriend a year later at the same place, after breaking up with her just before next year’s contest.

“Alright folks,” she started, turning towards the camera to look directly into it, her fists resting on her hips, standing akimbo. “We’re in. I gotta say, this is absolutely wild! According to all known sources, apparently as untouched by our global society, the dragons here were well modernized before our industrial age! It really goes to show you just how these dragons are so intelligent. As you can see in the park, there’s a strapping young lad serving up hot dogs! Wild! We need to get a closer taste.”

Spinning on her boot heel, Gronkle began her march towards the hot dog stand, a broad smile on her face as she approached the blue dragon who was wearing a simple screen printed t-shirt and shorts. Though, as she grew closer, she knew something was immediately off. Where was the succulent smell of juicy, process meats? She shrugged it off, maybe the vendor’s stand was air tight. Yeah, that was the reason.

“Hey there, fine fellow! I’m Gronkle Jefferson, daughter of Grankle Jefferson, son of Jeff. You might have seen me on TV? I’m recording an episode of Survivalist Chef, and I was wondering if I could maybe record here with you?” The blue dragon looked up from his novel, it was unlisted on the side, but he nodded at her, a smile drawing out across his scaly features. Carefully placing a book mark between the pages, he set the book down. “Of course! Would you like a hotdog?”

“Would I? I’d love one! Ketchup and relish, please.”

“You got it!” With a broad grin, the dragon before her reached into the cart, soon pulling out, well. What was decidedly not a hotdog. It looked like paper, his hands carefully folding the piece up into a tube shape, along with another piece to act as a bun. After putting it down on the stand, he would clutch two bottles, one green and one red, and squeezed them across as he was spreading a sauce across the tube of paper he made. Instead, what came out was a spread of thinly shredded sheets across the ‘hotdog.’

“Careful! It’s hot! You might want to let it cool down first.”

This was an absolute bizarre show that Gronkle witnessed. Her smile did not fade for a moment, as if she was expecting more. In denial did she begin to chuckle to herself, waving a hand dismissively at the ‘hotdog’ before her.

“Okay, that’s pretty good. So, hotdog? Please?”

“It’s right here! Did you change your mind?”

“No, that’s not a hotdog. That’s just paper.”

“Yeah, and it’s just as yummy as you can imagine. Look, I’ll show you.”

“No, thanks completely unnecessary for the jo-” She was stopped almost immediately, shock displayed across her face. Her eyes widened as she watched the dragon before her bite into the paper hotdog. The way it bent into his teeth didn’t suggest it was really a fake, but a legitimate food item. The groan of satisfaction from the dragon was cluing her in that he might be faking it, but the certainty of how he ate the hotdog was bewildering. As the man before he chewed on it, she made out that the tube of ‘hotdog’ was written on it, making out words like ‘juicy, slightly spicy, meaty and hearty hotdog.’

“It’s sho good. The writer who makes these ish sho talented.”

This had prompted Gronkle and her crew to start baking up. There was something that she had learned about the Book Dragons, but she was so absolutely incredulous that she had planned this expedition in the first place. It was said that a Book Dragon, if they wrote down on a piece of paper, it took on the attributes of what was written down. A piece of paper could become a hotdog, and witnessing it, well. Gronkle believed she was dreaming for a second.

Her group pushed away from the fakedog eating dragon, carefully moving into the city, possibly to find out if it really was true, that every restaurant and grocer was just a series of writers putting out papers describing the things they were supposed to be. They had to actually eat food, so it was her mission to find a how they actually ate.

#danwrites #gronkle the chef #book dragons #short story #this is stupid

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