Honestly, after surviving off of whatever canned food survived a three-year zombie apocalypse, a diet of Twinkies and canned peaches and the occasional MRE, the food here might as well be gourmet. Not that he'd really know anything fancy if he encountered it; even before the zombies came, 10K's life hadn't exactly been centered around haute cuisine. Your options were kind of limited, living in a cabin in the middle of the woods. But that doesn't mean he's got no taste buds at all, and since he figures he's probably going to be here a while, he might as well try and see what he can contribute to the food situation.
He and his dad had made jerky plenty of times before, usually deer, occasionally moose or chicken, so 10K knows what he's doing. Smoked meat might be a little complicated, but all you really need is salt to dessicate whatever you're drying, and that they've got. In fact, the first batch looks pretty good, he thinks, scraping the layer of salt off. There's a sort of spicy scent to it, almost like a cajun thing, some Old Bay notes. Only thing left to do is taste test, and so he tears off a strip and pops it into his mouth, chewing. At first, he's sure it's a success, and he's ready to prep the rest and take it to the inn, but then the heat kicks in and he realizes he's made a terrible mistake.
It feels like his throat is on fire as he dashes through the town, making a beeline for the fountain. Not just his throat, but his entire face, and he's as red as a tomato when he reaches the stone lip, not even hesitating before he dives in headfirst. Honestly, he's not even worried about how clean the water is. Dying of dysentery might be preferable to the agony he's feeling right now as he surfaces treading water, black hair sticking up in all directions as he gasps for air. How did this all go so wrong???
[wildcard.]
((Come at me. 10K's most comfortable out in the woods away from people, so he'll probably be out there exploring. Want someone with a makeshift slingshot to rescue you from an angry badger knocking down trees? Need someone to helpfully tell you that bush you just shoved through is poison sumac? Got a vegetarian you want to be horrified by the sight of someone efficiently skinning a rabbit? 10K's your boy.))
[text.]
10k: if no one else is gonna say it i'm just gonna say it
Ten Thousand | Z Nation
Honestly, after surviving off of whatever canned food survived a three-year zombie apocalypse, a diet of Twinkies and canned peaches and the occasional MRE, the food here might as well be gourmet. Not that he'd really know anything fancy if he encountered it; even before the zombies came, 10K's life hadn't exactly been centered around haute cuisine. Your options were kind of limited, living in a cabin in the middle of the woods. But that doesn't mean he's got no taste buds at all, and since he figures he's probably going to be here a while, he might as well try and see what he can contribute to the food situation.
He and his dad had made jerky plenty of times before, usually deer, occasionally moose or chicken, so 10K knows what he's doing. Smoked meat might be a little complicated, but all you really need is salt to dessicate whatever you're drying, and that they've got. In fact, the first batch looks pretty good, he thinks, scraping the layer of salt off. There's a sort of spicy scent to it, almost like a cajun thing, some Old Bay notes. Only thing left to do is taste test, and so he tears off a strip and pops it into his mouth, chewing. At first, he's sure it's a success, and he's ready to prep the rest and take it to the inn, but then the heat kicks in and he realizes he's made a terrible mistake.
It feels like his throat is on fire as he dashes through the town, making a beeline for the fountain. Not just his throat, but his entire face, and he's as red as a tomato when he reaches the stone lip, not even hesitating before he dives in headfirst. Honestly, he's not even worried about how clean the water is. Dying of dysentery might be preferable to the agony he's feeling right now as he surfaces treading water, black hair sticking up in all directions as he gasps for air. How did this all go so wrong???
[wildcard.]
((Come at me. 10K's most comfortable out in the woods away from people, so he'll probably be out there exploring. Want someone with a makeshift slingshot to rescue you from an angry badger knocking down trees? Need someone to helpfully tell you that bush you just shoved through is poison sumac? Got a vegetarian you want to be horrified by the sight of someone efficiently skinning a rabbit? 10K's your boy.))
[text.]
10k: if no one else is gonna say it i'm just gonna say it
aliens.
right? anybody?