“I used to be doctor, you know.” Chef Surrell drove like traffic signs were suggestions and all cops were on holiday. She whipped her giant BMW around street corners in a way that simultaneously terrified and charmed Thomas. He felt like the windshield was just a screen through which he was watching a wild video game with exceptional graphics.

“Why would a Doctor become a Chef?” asked Thomas.

“Change of pace,” said Chef Surrell, “That and all the fucking technology. I got tired of keeping up with it. I like the days with the needles and the string and the splints. Now it’s all about machines and medications.” Surrell sped through a yellow light and changed lanes, cutting in front of a honking SUV. “Cooking though,” she said, sucking air through her teeth, “that’s still cooking.”

“But you don’t eat,” said Thomas, “Why would you be interested in cooking if you don’t eat?”

“I eat,” said Surrell, glancing over at Thomas. Thomas suddenly had the memory of her licking his blood off her fingers.

“Yes,” said Thomas, “but not human food.”

Surrell made a sudden turn that had Thomas grabbing for the strap next to his head. “Not human food,” said Surrell. “But I like making food for humans. I make the food, the humans eat the food, I eat the humans.” She shrugged.

“I thought you said you were a vegetarian,” asked Thomas, turning up the collar on his coat.

She shook her head. “I lied. That guy’s an asshole. It’s fun to lie to assholes.”

-I have been writing about 3k per day. 3k per day of TOTALLY RANDOM STORIES. My focus needs more focus.