The white truffle hid in the cool red folds. The garlic was angry and prowling and the olive oil made traction impossible. Absolutely no footing at all. The elk was long dead and the ectomycorrhizal fruiting body was sure to follow.
There was a low hum in the dim evening light that was felt more than heard. Muffled voices mumbled intoxicated through the wall. Smoke swirled around the patio through the sliding door.
A man appeared from the living room and walked to the refrigerator and removed a bottle of beer. Another man, in a camoflage baseball hat moved over to the plastic container and loomed above. The man with the beer stepped up beside and pointed a proud finger towards the warming flesh.
He took a pull from the bottle and wiped his mouth on his arm and nodded. "Yeah."
A third man stepped into the room to join the others, knowing the time was close at hand.
The truffle closed it's eyes and shuddered, remembering the screams of the tomatoes when the door was slammed on the metal cylinder, their steaming lifeless eyes as they were dumped unceremoniously into the mixing bowl. The poor, innocent potatoes; their skin sliced from their bodies one dreadful howling slice at a time till they bled-out sticky on the white counter just to be dumped half-dead into the boiling liquid. At least the broccoli had been quick; a merciful decapitation.
A browning banana on the edge of the microwave looked down with sad, beaten eyes.
There was a grinding noise and the plate was lifted from the counter. They were moving toward the smoke. The chives cried out as the lid opened and the fire rolled and howled. The yellow peppers were stubborn and resolute, their faces unreadable as they were placed one by one on the hot steel with a sickening sizzle.
The garlic panicked.
The meat fell with a slap. The pain was instant and unbearable. The truffle choked through a scream into the smoke as the man with the beer placed another bleeding slab on the grill. The coals hissed in anger and flames flashed in terrible chaos. The truffle could take no more. The last thing it saw before losing consciousness was the face of the man in the camouflage baseball hat floating in the darkening twilight.
He was smiling.
-Alex who likes his death rare, please.