A Barbarians Booty

The Barbarians Booty

Dariog was his name. A monstrous barbarian of massive proportions. For what must have been days, Dariog had trudged through the bare and barren wastelands in search of plunder. The intense chill of the winter winds blasted his rosy cheeks and the ice and snow underfoot made his callus feet turn numb. Surely he couldn't turn back now? He had walked for miles since he'd left the yurt and may not be able to find his way back to the tribe with his tracks covered by fresh snow. “No turning back now”, he told himself. As the night drew closer, Dariog began to assess his options, whilst his big, hairy belly grumbled in discontent. “Must. Find. Food.” he told himself.

Onwards he trudged. After the sun had fully set, the old barbarian looked up at the night sky, reading it like a compass. Following the stars, under the light of the waning moon, he headed south, towards civilization. As every minute ticked by, his legs grew weaker. “Just keep going” he told himself. Then eventually, in the distance, a light. Against all the odds, the predator had found its prey. Spurred on by this timely development, Dariog picked up the pace and began marching as fast as he could. As he neared the civilisation, he held his nose to the wind... Grease. Meat. FOOD! His vast bulging gut gurgled in anticipation. Dariog stayed close to the tree line, to avoid being seen as he made his approach.

Maintaining his stealthy position, Dariog assessed his target. A small outpost that stood alone in a small paved clearing. From a safe distance, he circled it and located the main gate. Being a natural opportunist, as well as being close to starvation, he wielded his club and decided to strike. With all of his might, the vicious vagabond charged the gates with his right shoulder. The heavy hinged door burst open as the lone barbarian smashed through. He glanced to his left, then his right. No guards, but some helpless civilians, two women and a gaggle of children sat around a small table, there faces covered in shock. On another night things might have been different, but right now Dariog had no quarrel with them. He had only one thing on his mind; food. With caution, he stepped forward into the building. Ahead of him, stood a uniformed man, behind a raised wooden counter. A militia man? A royal guard? A paladin of the kings court? Dariog made his approach....

“good evening sir and welcome to McDonald’s. May I take your order please?” Spoke the man from behind the counter.

“Yes of course” replied Dariog. “Thank heavens you're still open. I nearly perished out there” he chuckled.

“Oh yes, it is rather bitter out there tonight isn't it, so much for global warming eh?” responded the young man “How may I help you?”

“I'll take a double cheeseburger meal please, with a Coke and large fries.”

“Is that to eat in or takeaway sir?”

“Eat in please”

“Ice in your drink sir?” said the young man, with a smirk.

“Aha, no thank you!” replied Dariog, with a hearty laugh.

“OK, that will be 3.79 please”

“There's 4, pop the change in the charity jar for me please. Thank you”

Dariog took the brown plastic tray full of food and sat down to consume his meal. His face began to warm. His feet began to thaw. His belly stopped grumbling. This barbarian would live to fight another day.