Klein Moretti had been a lot of things in life: an overworked history major, an underpaid columnist, a one-time Beyonder (don't ask), and a man with dangerously weak self-control around desserts. But even he knew this was a bad idea.
"Are you sure this is the place?" he asked, squinting at the fog-choked alleyway before him.
Beside him, Frye—stoic, calm, and oddly invested in weird food tours—nodded. "I've heard the vendor sets up at midnight. They say his skewers grant… enlightenment."
Klein blinked. "Enlightenment. Not food poisoning?"
Frye shrugged. "Same difference."
And so, at 12:01 AM, surrounded by flickering lanterns, unsettling street cats, and a strange smell that hovered somewhere between barbecue smoke and 'something died here', the stall appeared.
It was a rickety cart with an unassuming sign that read:
"Doozman's Dusk Delights – One Skewer Per Soul."
The vendor, a man with a crooked hat, four earrings in one ear, and a smile that spelled suspicious, greeted them cheerfully.
"Welcome, food seekers! I have mystery skewers, flame-charred eldritch sausage, and something I call the 'Spirit Tongue Twister'. First bite's free."
Klein stared at the meat rotating on the spit. It shimmered oddly—was it changing color? No, that was just the oil catching the lamplight. Right?
"What's in the mystery skewer?" Klein asked, gripping his notebook like it might protect him.
The vendor winked. "It's a mystery."
"…I walked into that one."
Frye had already purchased one and was chewing methodically. "Tastes like… duck. But… also like dreams. Spicy dreams."
Klein sighed, tossed a coin, and accepted the skewer. The meat was tender, glazed in a smoky sauce, and emitted a smell that made his mouth water despite the very real chance it had once whispered forbidden secrets to cultists.
He bit into it.
And immediately saw the stars collapse.
Then rebuild themselves into the shape of a pigeon holding a soup spoon.
Then he burped.
"Okay, this is either the best or worst thing I've ever eaten," he muttered, eyes watering. "It's like spicy honey glazed reality distortion. It's… amazing?"
He scribbled notes feverishly:
"Possibly illegal. Definitely spicy. Tastes like dimensionally unstable beef with notes of regret and paprika. Rating: 9/10 but I might need an exorcism later."
The vendor grinned. "You're lucky. That one came from a beast that howled in its own dreams."
"Why would you tell me that after I ate it?!"
"You already liked it."
Touché.
Next up was the "Spirit Tongue Twister." The name was not metaphorical. It was literally a strip of meat wrapped into a spiral, served on a stick, coated in a glaze that shimmered like liquid moonlight.
Klein hesitated.
"Go on," Frye said, entirely too amused.
He took a bite.
The taste hit him like a revelation—savory, sweet, sour, bitter, all dancing in a perfectly orchestrated chaos. The texture was chewy but soft, almost like memory. And his tongue started… twisting.
Physically.
"Oh no, I'm speaking in tongues—Frye, am I speaking in tongues?!"
"You're fine," Frye replied, not even looking up from his second skewer. "That's just your sixth sense unlocking."
Klein spun around and wrote: "Delicious. Confusing. Possibly gave me a third eye, but it's on my tongue. 11/10."
He had only one item left—the vendor's "eldritch sausage."
He stared at it.
It pulsed.
Very slightly.
"Nope," Klein said, shoving the notebook into his coat. "Even I have limits."
But Frye had already bought two.
Back home, Klein sat at his writing desk, still trembling slightly. He dipped his quill, paused, and titled his review:
"Backlund's Most Cursed Meat: I Ate It So You Don't Have To (But You Probably Should)"
He leaned back, stared into space, and whispered:
"I think I just communed with a culinary Outer Deity."
From his coat pocket, a tiny voice muttered, "You still have some sauce on your soul."
He screamed and went to bed.
---
Next Chapter: Klein visits an underground café run by former pirates, where all the drinks have names like "Gunpowder Espresso" and "Kraken's Cream Latte".
Will he survive the caffeine-fueled madness?
Will he accidentally summon a creature from the deep while drinking the "Tidal Surge Frappe"?
Will he gain a new Beyonder ability from a particularly dangerous dessert?
Find out next time in The Fool's Gourmet Tour!