FNT [Just Friends Day 2 Leisure]

I t z a l

Fascinating new thing
The scene makin', want a temporary saviour
Fascinating new thing
Don't betray them by becoming familiar

Just as quickly as they’d come, the crabs scuttled off to points unknown. Whether it was the way Mirage threatened to pry each and every last one of their legs off or the fact I couldn’t get any of the fuckers to lay off of me, they were gone. I took stock of the gashes cut across each of my arms now dripping into the blue of the koi pond. Nothing life threatening, but definitely not free from infection if I wasn’t careful.

I crouched down to the water and splashed to clean myself. I cupped the water in my hands and brought it to my face. This would be the first time I had a chance to hobo-shower in almost two days, and by then I had to be starting to smell rank. Though I guess having B.O. was the least of my worries at this point.

It’s just that in the moments when we weren’t fighting that all the little things that had been pushed to the side became all that more obvious. That my clothes were already partially shredded and stained, that my arms look like I was trying to find a vein to end it all and failed, or that we’d have to camp out in the abandoned shine for another night.

I guess my prayer to Satan really had worked.

Huh.

I started to collect the crabs that had been smashed and put them into a pile. No reason for them to go to waste, after all. I started by yanking the legs free from them. A snap and twist as I drew and quartered the things that had been trying to murder us both.

“You hungry?” I asked. I rubbed a finger under my nose and used my Katana to pry open the shells of the crab. I picked apart the meat from the lungs and the heart. I separated the organs into a pile, preserving the meat fit to eat. Now and again, I’d dip my hands in the water to clean off the muck.

A beeping rang out as a parachute shone overhead. I grinned. Inside the care package sat a frying pan, flint, and old bay spice.

“Sweet.”

I brought together a collection of bonsai and got enough of a fire going to hold the skillet over. I took some of the muck of the entrails with a splash of water to get a base before piling on the crab meat. I twisted my grip on the handle as the meat cooked. Smoke billowed upward and I let out a cough.

I sprinkled a heavy helping of the seasoning over the crab and continued to shake it back and forth.

“Used to make this with my dad back in five.” I said, eying the color of the crab in the pan.