Smash Burgers

He bellowed so loudly in frustration that he swore he felt his rage shake the earth. The braver souls in the vicinity recoiled from the sheer force of the sound, while those less courageous fled outright. He knew it was likely in his own worst interest, and would ultimately make his evening even more difficult, but he couldn’t help it. He was tired. And hungry. And a little worse for wear.

His fingers were bloodied up to the knuckles, the result of a recent trip to the local watering hole that went horribly awry. He stumbled out at early dusk looking for a drink and something to fill the ever-expanding hole in his stomach, which had made its presence known a few hours ago by its tiny rumblings. Those rumblings had soon grown into a ferocious roar, almost as mighty as the one he had just loosed on the unsuspecting passersby. He wanted — no, needed — something substantial to fill his gut, preferably some red meat, though at this point he’d stoop so low as to eat even…fish.

At this time of evening, he’d usually find his favorite spot nearly vacant. Instead, it was as crowded as he’d ever seen it, with barely any space to squeeze in along the bar for a drink. Just his luck. Big, dumb, fleshy bodies grunting and bumping into each other. Even from a distance, he could discern the glaze over their eyes. Peabrains! Why did they have to be here? Why now? The last thing he wanted to deal with was an oafish herd of slobbering half-wits. Their smell alone threatened to stagger him even at a distance. But eventually, he took one more breath of fresh air and made his grand entrance. And as soon as he did, all eyes were on him.

Some parents glared at him with suspicion as he walked by and took extra care to tuck their children in closely. It was a shame, really. He liked kids; preferred them, even. They were so small and clumsy and slow. Despite the inconvenience, he couldn’t blame the parents for their protective instincts. He’d probably do the same if he had a little one of his own, but he was a bachelor whether he liked it or not, and a bachelor’s sole duty is to procure food.

The patrons, unfortunately, had a different idea. They didn’t like his type around here, and they made that crystal clear by bruising him up and sending him on his way. The dumb brutes. One on one, he had no problem holding himself in a fight, but he was smart enough to know that numbers meant strength, and in that regard, he was obviously at a disadvantage. Not to mention some of his aggressors were truly massive and peered down at him as though they were tall trees swaying stiffly in the wind.

If only the powers that be had blessed him with a little more girth in his arms, he could have handled them and certainly would have shown them a thing or two. But he was scrawny in that area, remarkably so. It was an unlucky deficiency of his bloodline. Well, it could be worse, he thought. At least I still have my killer jawline, which he was able to put to good use by clamping down tightly on one unlucky fellow who had dared to slam into him at just the right angle. He sent the poor bastard running with a big gash on the base of the neck. One to remember me by, he thought.

He could taste blood on the points of his front teeth, but he couldn’t tell if it was his own—from the blunt force head trauma he had received—or if it belonged to the unlucky member of the mob. In either case, it reminded him of both his hunger and his anger. He thought again how nice it would be to finally find some damn sustenance. To finally chomp into some meat before laying down for a good night’s rest. But now, it was too late. Dusk had fully yielded to the star-filled twilight, and, as though by instinct, he found himself upon the path home.

Despite the pain that coursed through his body, the nighttime stroll was refreshingly tranquil. The soft, wet grass squished under his feet and each step he took splashed water up to cool his ankles, tickling him as the droplets ran down between his toes. A warm breeze rustled the fronds of the surrounding trees. The sound fell into harmony with the drone of cicadas, making it seem as though the air itself was singing. No more bumbling morons; no more judgmental looks. Just peace and the right sort of quiet.

It was also an uncharacteristically bright evening. He had pretty sharp eyes when measured up to his peers, but tonight he could see almost twice as far as he usually could. It took him a few moments to discern it, but the source of the brightness was a gentle orange glow radiating off the dew-covered foliage. It added a pleasant aura to the evening’s atmosphere, which did wonders to improve his mood.

He took a moment to marvel at the beauty resting on the branches all around him. It was something he had never seen the likes of in his 23 years on Earth. Soon he became lost in a trance, but was shaken from it when he noticed something in the corner of his eye: a luminous dot that turned black and slowly faded whenever he looked away. Little ghost dots. He knew them. He saw them sometimes when he would look into a pool of deep water and the sun would shine back at him through the glassy mirror. But he also knew that the night was when the sun slept, just like he did.

Glancing upward, he noticed a tiny flickering spec in the sky. For a moment he thought it was a star, just like all the others. Sometimes the stars were bright, sometimes they were dull, sometimes they flew, but mostly they stood still and were content to watch him from above. But he could feel this one was somehow different. Perhaps more bold, perhaps more friendly? Something in its bombastic, shameless shine instilled within him a sense of excitement, urgency, and…what was it? He couldn’t quite say, but let the thought pass through him as he stood dumbfounded—awestruck—staring at this unexpected visitor and wondering what other gifts the night might offer him in recompense for his empty gut.

Perhaps it was a minute, perhaps five, perhaps more. He didn’t know. He looked down to count the numbers on his fingers, but only got to four before he had to give up. Regardless, it was obvious to his keen eyes that his friend had now grown in size. Much, much larger in fact. Alarmingly large. Ah! Now he remembered it: the feeling that he couldn’t quite name. It was an uncommon one, one that he had only felt a few times throughout the course of his life. Usually, it was the other way around. He wasn’t feeling it; he was making others feel it. Fear. The feeling was fear.

No sooner did he recall his lost memories that he felt a gentle warmth upon his skin. He looked behind him and saw that the entire length of his body now possessed the faint radiance that the trees had worn as their shroud mere minutes ago. The trees themselves were brighter now, almost blinding in their beauty. And that beauty shook the earth. Or, not beauty. Terror. Terror shook the earth as those who had earlier assaulted him now stampeded in fear, senseless and frothing at the sight of the big shining intruder from above. He recalled for a moment his own triumphant, rageful roar and felt a sudden and bursting sense of camaraderie with this terrifying traveler. That’s right, run you cowards. Not so tough now, are you?

He wouldn’t run. He would stand tall with his new partner, his bellowing brother from the stars, and together they would drive away all those who dare oppose their might. Once more, and for the final time, he looked up. His earthbound friend had now grown to a size that even humbled him. The heat had grown as well. What was before a comfortable warmth had transitioned into a burning. And it was loud. Why is it so loud? My friend, what’s all this racket!? There’s no need to shout! Or, if you must shout, let us at least shout together! There’s plenty here for the both of us! Let us reign together and bring some order to this broken land! Come with me, and we’ll show that graceless horde what they should really be afraid of!

And the shining friend from the sky, through an act of mercy, did indeed attend him and finally—finally—put an end to the ceaseless chattering of his stomach. A thunderous shockwave tore through the ground, rendering all other sounds impotent. It was a showing of power unlike any he had ever witnessed, and with it came a brightness that burned his retinas and a heat that erased his ability to feel. In solidarity, he let forth one final shout: one loud enough to rattle his bones, loud enough even to match his falling friend’s spectacular performance. In its echo was housed an unmistakable sense of pride. It was a glorious proclamation that he was the tyrant king of the land, and that all others should tremble in his wake.

The final thoughts that flashed through his head before he was reduced to ash were only of his glowing, helpful friend, and of his growling stomach. Oh, how he wished he could have had one last meal. One more chance to sink his teeth into his favorite dish. It had been his favorite since he was little, when his father had introduced it to him on their first trip out alone together. It was the prize that he had set out at daylight in search of; the one he had spent the entire day hunting for in vain. To him, there was nothing in the world that could compare. Oh, how he wished he could have it: just one more taste of Triceratops, rare.