A little story about feet.

Just a little story I wrote for a friend. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it;

>mft 'f 't<

>No need to rush. Finish what's in your mouth, first.<

>Most of it.<

>Really?<

>Yup.<

He took a deep breath.
Life as an adventurer is rough. Sometimes they have to fight, sometimes they have to run or even give up. Sometimes there is no dinner. Quite often, even. You make do. But there is supposed to be a limit, he thought.

>What's left?<

>F't.<

>Come again?<

She bit down firmly on some cartilage. The sound was something between an old man cracking his knuckles and someone stepping into a wet and warm dung pie. Moist and yet boney. The meat appeared to be quite stringy.

>F-E-E-T. I left the feet. Don't like feet. I always get some piece of non-descript origin stuck between my back teeth and end up having to fumble around in my mouth to get it out. I dislocated my jaw, once, for crying out loud! You can't blame me for leaving the feet!<

He stared into the sky and rubbed his temples. Clouds flew past. He closed his eyes and imagined he was somewhere different. Some beach maybe. Somewhere without the smell of rotting meat and an insane woman gnawing on what he hoped was not what he thought it was.

>You have no manners. First off: Don't speak with your mouth still full. Sounds awful, looks awful, doesn't help your appearance in general. Don't look at me like that, you know you won't win any beauty pageants anymore. Second: What do we do now? Hand in feet?<

>I don't see why that is not an option. They asked for proof, and I left some. Everything should be fine. Yes yes, I know, there will be some staring and maybe a few added questions, but as long as they kept his shoe size everything's dandy, right? Look, even has a mole right on his big toe. That's evidence right there.<

He kept looking at the sky. His arms dropped to his sides. A sharp intake of air could be heard, so vigorous he produced an involuntary whistle between his teeth.

>Look. I don't question your morals or anything as I know you don't have any. No, don't grin like that, there's an earlobe hanging from the corner of your mouth. (there was a gulping noise) No use trying to deny it, I saw the diamond stud. It's why it got stuck there in the first place.
Anyway. We were supposed to take his, and pay attention to this, supposed to take his head back with us. So it could be put on a spike. I don't think feet on spikes have quite the same impact if you want to instill fear. Now- where is the head?<

>We could always glaze them. Like candy apples, you know? Dontlookatmelikethat. I don't know.<

She spit out the diamond stud.

>I ****ing hate you, Drippz. I genuinely, honestly, whole-heartedly ****ing hate you.<

>Aaaaaaaaaaaand?<

He groaned.

>And I think dwarf candy is a great business idea. There, happy now?<

>Mhm. Keep the stud. That way, you only bought me dinner.<