things move around

In the basement of the building where I work is a food court with a wide array of appaling eateries offering thrice-debased versions of various cuisines. A couple of weeks ago I was walking through this food court on my way to somewhere else when I noticed that a portion of the seating had been cleared and a series of booths set up; it was to do with an “International Food Fair”, according to the signs. I took a large cardboard plate and walked past each booth collecting samples of the outlandish delicacies on offer. When I sat down I had some amazing things on my plate - fried jellyfish with tapioca, gazelle’s heart (that was delicious, pure and dark and soft), a kind of latke with water chestnuts in it - and I set to animatedly. But at length I came to an enormous beetle, fully three inches long and two wide, which although apparently dead didn’t seem to have been cooked at all. It was warm. I looked questioningly at a woman sitting near me and she said “it’s OK. It’s microwaved.” Then she took a big bite of her own beetle, crunching through the abdomen with hyperreal Canadian teeth. I copied her and to my surprise found that the texture was smooth and creamy, like fondant, not at all crunchy, and the taste was bitter and invigorating. Lustily, I bit again, but this time a liquid gushed out in my mouth and a sweet, putrid sensation spread through my tongue and gums, followed by a stinging rush which made me clutch my jaw in agony. The woman said disinterestedly: “did you eat the thorax? You must have hit a venom sac.” I stood up and reeled through the food court, eyes watering with pain. It felt as though the left side of my face, my cheek and the corner of my mouth, were being seared with hot pins. Gradually the pain ebbed and subsided from the excruciating to the merely intense; by this time I had found my way to the washroom and was trying to fit my face under the tap. After some time in this pose I looked in the mirror and noticed three blemishes on my left cheek: two close together, near the corner of my mouth, and one about an inch further out. They were small, red indentations with minuscule white barbs stuck at the centre.

At the medical clinic the doctor asked me if I had a match. Eventually we found someone in the waiting room who had a lighter, and the doc managed to burn away the three blemishes. I still have a numbness where the marks were but they tell me that ought to go away in a couple of weeks.