Chris, Darren, and the bartender sat still as statues while the dry squid’s smell saturated the air.
“You try?” The bartender beckoned.
Chris shoved the box toward Darren, who vehemently ignored him.
“Taste good,” the bartender coaxed.
The silent stalemate subsided when Chris retrieved the box with a huff. “Fine, I’ll try some.” He tore off and tasted a tiny tentacle.
“Not bad. Your turn.”
Darren shook his head.
“You said you’d try it.”
“Did not. I said I’d eat tarantula, which I did.”
“Whatever,” Chris munched on a moistureless mantle before offering some to the bartender, who declined.
“Are you gonna eat all of it?”
“No, I’m done. Let’s go.”
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