Deep in the darkest bluest ocean trench there once lay a single urchin. His name was Ben.

“Hi.”

Ben wasn’t always the first choice for social company.

“That’s right!”

He got made fun of a lot for his awful spines.

“They’re very sharp.”

 The other sea-dwelling creatures often pretended they didn’t know his name.

“Wanda calls me Tyler.”

But one day, Ben had a big idea.

“Fuck this place!”

Ben took his little urchin spines that everybody hated so much and he packed up all his deep-sea belongings and set out for somewhere better.

But first he had to say goodbye to Ma.

“MAAAAAA.”

Ma was also an urchin, obviously. She was proud of her spines.

“WHAAAAT.”

Ben stood before her, covered in his belongings, each skewered on a separate spine.

“Ma, I’m goin’.”

“Bring a snack.”

And with that, he took a big about-face and marched his lil’ urchin ass out the door.

Ben took a train. The kind of train that apparently exists down at the bottom of the ocean, stop asking questions.

After a long time out on the rails, Ben came across a new place. A new home. A refuge, from all the slightly socially-awkward interactions he’d accumulated back at the Ol’ Trench that clung to him like cellophane.

“I’m here!”

It was also a Trench, he wasn’t like tryin’ to go to Miami or some shit, he just didn’t like being bullied by Wendy. But this Trench had a Plaza.

He waved goodbye to the Conductor Fish, who gave him a big fishy thumbs up! Aw yeah! And then he scooched himself off the train.

The Plaza surrounded him, all the hustle and bustle of deep sea life, Neon signs, unabashed carnivorous hunting, street performers, the works. Ben tried to breathe it all in.

“Hey, watch it bub.”

A little shelled critter he didn’t recognize had careened off his spines, the armor deflecting his understated barbs.

“Sorry!”

Ben wandered the Plaza, taking in the sights and sounds, but not the smells. It kinda smelled like shit.

Off at the far end of the courtyard, he spotted her.

Van.

Van was also an urchin. I dunno, call it a lack of creativity, I just think it makes the most sense. Boy urchin, girl urchin, it’s fine.

She was sharp, he could tell, oh yeah. Something about the way she just kinda stood still there in the light of the neon “OPEN 24/7” sign, created this aura around her, Ben was captivated. He found himself sliding in her direction and didn’t notice the Souvlaki Stand right beside him.

“Heeeeey, I’m woikin’ here!”

Ben came to, and somehow Van left his mind.

Souvlaki Steve was there in front of him, holding a Pita in one hand, and in the other, the most fantastic pair of tongs Ben had ever seen.

I mean seriously, he couldn’t believe it. Ben had always appreciated spatulas and even carving knives, but he knew there was nothing more effective for clamping down on something that’s too hot to hold in your bare hand than a pair of tongs, and these were like really nice.

Souvlaki Steve wielded his tongs with precision, with grace. He would never stuff a pita without a perfect pinch of souvlaki steak. Ben watched him jab it into the vat of shaven meats and nestle it into the sauced pita without even breaking a sweat.

“Whoa.”

“Oh yeah motherfucker.”

Spotlight on Souvlaki Steve. The world drifted away. Ben could tell something extraordinary was happening. What was once day had become night, the sun (yeah whatever, bottom of the ocean, sue me) was overtaken by instant darkness, except for Steve, stuffing pitas in the limelight, with an audience of Ben.

“Could I get one o’ those buns?”

Souvlaki Steve, drenched in drama, soaking in the light, spoke through the mist, with a reverberant echo that stretched beyond the walls of the Plaza.

“Yeah buddy I got your bun right here.”

Without batting an eye, Souvlaki Steve flashed out with his tongs and pinched exactly $4.57 off one of Ben’s skewer spines.

Instantly, the light of day returned, the fever dream cut short at Souvlaki Steve’s receipt of his due compensation.

“Here ya go!”

The pita outstretched across the stand, Ben’s eyes grew wide, wide as, like, they were fuckin’ big. He took the pita, ate it in one bite, and that was the end of that.

By the time Ben returned his attention to Van at the other end of the Plaza, stock still beside the “OPEN 24/7” sign, she had already been approached by another urchin from out of town who was instantly in love with her and had wooed her into spending their lives together living it up in the Big City.

Ben tried to remember the flavor of his Souvlaki. He struggled to recall if he’d actually enjoyed it or if something really weird had just happened with that Souvlaki Steve guy.

“How did I know his name?”