Danger is Exhilarating

What a day.

I had some visitors today. This on itself is not an exceedingly rare occurrence, there is always some food that wants to dispose of some other food, and they are kind enough to share with me.

Touching, I know.

Often, the food knows that they have to be careful with what they do. I often wondered why food would knowingly approach me and put itself in obvious danger, until one informed me that they found the closeness to danger to be exhilarating and fascinating. Some sort of proof of their being alive. I wonder how alive it felt after I gobbled it down without chewing.

As I said before, the food’s intelligence seems to be rather rudimentary. Luckily, I do not need to fully comprehend the thought pattern of their minuscule brains in order to take advantage of it.

See, today’s visitors were not regulars. It’s not like I could tell the difference between more regular sacrifice-offering food and new sacrifice-offering food, my skills when it comes to identifying individual foodstuffs is reduced to asserting their tastiness (that’s Sarlacci for you, we are streamlined and efficient!), but the way they talked in awe of my imposing presence gave them away.

That, of course, put me on alert. A chance may present itself to exploit their lack of experience.

Their box floated above my home for a long time, I made twice my tentacle count in different frequencies of voices above me, and of all those only two seemed destined to meet my maw. The other food seemed greatly excited about getting a chance of seeing me munch on them, and in their excitement they made several rude comments about me.

I am not an excitable creature. But one particular comment grated on my teeth like a misplaced grain of sand on my tendrils.

“What can that stupid thing do anyway? It’s not like it can reach us up here, why the big deal about being careful from the boss?”

It was true, the box was high, beyond the reach of my tentacles. But I thought it poor form.


After a short time… short for me, you understand, it must have felt extremely long to the food up there; I sometimes believe the food will die of old age on me when I’m taking a long time eating it, 50 years lifespan! Ahahaha! Where was I? Oh, yes, after a short time they finally decided to start the sacrifices. For what I gathered from the sound vibrations, they were throwing a piece of food down and making the other watch. Interesting, it meant everyone would probably be watching.

Down came the first food. I quickly reached with a tentacle and put it close to the maw. It was struggling frantically, but with a second tentacle I managed to restrain it. I wrapped it around its limbs, and put the tip on its mouth to stop it from screaming. Another second and in it went.

But I didn’t gulp, oh no. The food above sounded like they were having a grand time of it. It was perfect. I aimed carefully, and with a well executed spit, sent the food flying back up. There were some sounds, of surprise I assume:


“Lookit him go!”

“He’s coming down again!”

I hoped I hadn’t thrown it too high. If it broke its limbs on the fall it would be of little use. An instant later, the sounds confirmed that I had made a perfect throw. I let myself feel smug for a while.

As I said, I thought the comment of the food to be in poor form. So I decided that a lesson – and a possible rain of food – was in order. For years I have been keeping the accessories of the food that falls into my maw, not just everything but the useful bits: blasters, vibroblades, all those “weapons.” I don’t keep grenades though, they give me some terrible gas if I swallow them by mistake. The blasters are not too bad, they sting worse than a krayt dragon bite, but they can be quite useful.

So I let the food grab some of these weapons – with it did with surprising enthusiasm – and spit it back onto the box. It was glorious, at the end of the day I had half a dozen meals inside my belly. True, these blasters make the food have a charred aftertaste not entirely to my liking, but one cannot have everything.

I wonder if the remaining food found the experience exhilarating or fascinating. Considering the excited cries calling for getting away as fast as possible, I can assume they did. And they didn’t even thank me.

How rude of them.

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