Grunk was seething with anger. The Big Boss was berating him again–despite Grunk’s faithful execution of every command. To the Big Boss, Grunk was merely a tool, a bloodhound to discipline and wield as a weapon, rather than recognizing him as the capable warrior he truly was. But Grunk knew his worth; in his inner voice, he affirmed, “I am strong, I am swift, I am powerful!” This relentless underestimation fueled a deep-seated resentment within him, driving Grunk to prove that he was far more than just a tool; he was a formidable force in his own right.

Big Boss suddenly paused, his attention captured by the spit-roasted wild turning over the fire. His demeanor shifted as he watched, his face breaking into a sly, smeary smile. “Big Boss is hungry; he wants to eat!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the room. The Glarniks, ever fearful and subservient, scrambled in panic. They darted from one end of the room to the other, hastily gathering anything edible. The urgency was real; they all knew that failing to satiate Big Boss’s hunger could mean they themselves might end up as the next meal. Their frantic movements and the clatter of dishes underscored the tension that filled the air, as everyone in the room hastened to appease the demanding leader.

If food was an enemy, Big Boss certainly treated it as one, attacking it ruthlessly and with relentless vigor. He voraciously stuffed everything within reach into his mouth, only pausing occasionally to draw a breath or to let out a boisterous, echoing laugh that reverberated through the hall.

After consuming an amount that would satiate more than a dozen combatants dining together, Big Boss finally halted his voracious feast. He concluded the spectacle with a thunderous burp that resonated throughout the hall, the sound echoing off the stone walls and reaching every corner of the surrounding cells.