Chapter 17– Viral
KCHNK
The wall he leaned against disappears, and Big Sal tilts out of the cold, splatting against a warmer floor. Kitchen scents waft toward him.
“Sal?” says Petra. “You can’t be sleeping. Are you?”
Petra, who has just opened the walk-in refrigerator door, looks down at him.
A familiar scent widens his nostrils. His eyes blink open and come into focus.
“Are there cinnamon buns here?”
“I’m sure you can have one on break. But that’s in two hours.”
The teenager who greeted him at Hooks now carries a stack of dirty plates to a nearby sink, sets them in the basin, and squeezes the water hose, rinsing them.
Petra looks over, a scent arising from her that is a mix of water-return and beaver dam. It’s similar to what the barkeep from the Zit & Grit had, but her with own flavor.
Reaching down, she runs a finger through the sticky, half-frozen sauces and sniffs it.
“You’re covered in ketchup and plum sauce, Sal,” she sighs. “I wondered what that was. You should go upstairs and get cleaned up. I’ll let Raleigh know you’re…”
Oh ho. Something smells a little like bison. Is that fried onions too?
He flips onto all fours, stands, and bustles to the sink. The busboy takes a step away, then hurries to the dining area.
With a quick slurp, Big Sal finishes off the remnants of a dinner for four. He then rinses the plates and turns the hose on himself. A moment later, he’s clean, but the floor is covered in water. The busboy returns with another stack of plates.
He hands each plate to Big Sal, who slurps it. A Hook burger goes down, then a plastic basket with fries.
“Isn’t this a sanitary thing?” he asks Petra in a voice that cracks.
“Yeah, it kind of would be,” says Petra. “But more on this guy’s end. I’m not sure how his suit processes the food, or what it does. Whoever is inside that is quite well protected.”
“Did you see our stats?” Raleigh beams, striding fast from the dining area. “We’re going viral! Whoops!”
His boots elevate him four inches, and the captain’s hat adds another eight inches to his five-eleven frame. All of it whip-saws like a windmill as he slips on the standing water. A boot crashes upwards into the ceiling, bounces, and splashes into the basin. His hat flies towards Petra, who snatches it out of the air.
He holds his phone up like a trophy. “We’re on the news!”
The basket isn’t going down, and Big Sal has to pull it back out.
Alright. That’s not food. Tasty—but not to eat.
Raleigh sticks a hand out to Petra, and she pulls him to his feet. He then leads the three of them to the television overhead at the kitchen entrance, taps his phone, and the channel changes to a newscast.
“Yes, Captain Raleigh has rallied a new shipmate for the fabled crocodile role at Hook’s Themed Restaurant,” says the newscaster. “After a long while of the relative quiet, it appears someone with their own highly advanced costume has stumbled into the role hole.”
The newscaster is replaced by the livestream Petra recorded moments ago.
The drone’s perspective shows the closed doors to the truck. A bang, then two, followed by a quiet thump. Trying to stay low, the trucker is seen unlatching them. A few moments later, the doors squeak open. Raleigh emerges from the dim cavern of the box, crows like only a pirate captain can, and strides off to the right.
The camera zooms in on the silhouette of a pallet stacked with boxes, rising into view at waist height. One box reads “Pizza Dough,” another, “Hamburgers.”
One arm, frosted scales and large claws gripping the side of the pallet, appears first. Two short, stout legs, claws nicking at the wooden floor, make a sharper CLINK as they hit the metal ramp.
Three steps into sunlight, and from around the back of the pallet appears a crocodile’s jaws, lips curled in a snarl, a red rivulet of ketchup between almost-crossed eyes. A stream of plum sauce ripples over the shoulders as the reptile emerges into the light of day.
He looks like he just won a fight.
That looks different from how it felt.
He isn’t sure he likes the mismatch. His nose can barely make out a sour scent rising from his skin.
“Fearsome!” says the newscaster. “Fang-tastic! What a suit! That is definitely not Raleigh’s old, used crocodile skin. This is something new, people!”
“I don’t know, Don,” says another newscaster. “Comments seem to be questioning whether that’s a real crocodile.”
“Impossible!” says Don. “It’s phenomenal! Crocodiles don’t stand on two legs. I’ll bet this croc can sing and dance, too! Weren’t there reports of a crocodile dancing with the—uh—dancer? The girl?”
A new scent arises from Petra. She clears her throat and mutters, “Always just ‘the girl.’” Vinegar with hints of mud cloud her. “Just call me Petra.”
Big Sal watches her, and the way she’s standing changes. Her arms cross, her eyes narrow and grow distant. As her scents squeak out from her joints, they tell him something very different.
Held behind the beaver dam scent swirls a small pocket of water-return in a larger body of irritation. Some of that vinegar leaks steadily between the sticks and mud.
She lets some seep through but keeps most of it behind.
With a smile, he tries to mimic it. The scent of beaver dam feels familiar in a warm way.
“Hi Petra. I’m Sal.”
Raleigh hasn’t heard either of them. His eyes are wide, and a fast-rising scent of something very different rolls off him.
She smiles at him, her scents dropping away to water-return and hints of cilantro. A different scent arises, with heat and perhaps tomato.
“Thanks, Sal.”
“WHOO HOO!” exclaims Raleigh. “We need to get a new menu done up for this weekend! We need new proximity scenes created. Oh Sal, you’ve just catapulted us into the next level! Don Maroon’s coverage is gonna bring everyone and their pets out!”
And… this guy has no dam.
Overcome with his seemingly good fortune, Raleigh whoops, hollers, and runs around in a circle, yelling “For the win! For the win!” He ends by clasping Big Sal’s snout and giving him a kiss.
What is this? This human is a flood.
Editor’s note (March 2026): Minor line edits made for clarity and flow.
🔍 Want to preview Chapter 18?
Subscribe and it’ll land in your inbox!
🛡️ We respect inboxes. One story, one email. No spam.
Just one offer when an edition is ready.
Chapter 17 podcast drops March 7
Chapter 18 text drops March 14
