Forcing his doubts away, Jaime took a deep breath, pushed open the door to the Food Club, and stepped inside. At his entrance, the usually raucous room went silent, all the Food Club competitors pausing mid-chew to stare at the intruder. Peg Leg Percival stopped with a Spicy Wing halfway to his mouth, and Franchisco Corvallio had to dive across the table to slash a string of pasta dangling from his brother's lips before it slid out of Federismo's mouth onto the floor.

Jaime stood there, wide-eyed, staring at these titans of tasting, these masters of mastication. Finally, a grizzled Blumaroo approached him, eying the young Usul from under a pair of bushy black eyebrows.

"Arr, and who be ye, ya wee sprog?"

"I--I'm..." Jaime licked his lips, his mind scrambling to think of what to say. Simply "Jaime" couldn't stand up to the likes of "Buck Cutlass" or "Captain Crossblades." "Uh, I be Sir Jaime the Golden-Gutted."

To Jaime's horror, the room erupted in gales of laughter. Young Sproggie laughed so hard that the Negg he'd been eating fell from his mouth and rolled under the table.

When the Blumaroo had finished guffawing, he turned his fearsome glare upon Jaime again. "And what be yer business here, me golden-gutted laddie?"

Jaime swallowed hard and said, "I want to join Food Club, um, sir." The Usul cringed in anticipation of more laughter, but none came.

"Do ye, indeed? Well, the only way we'll be lettin' ye into Food Club, Sir Jaime, is if ye can prove yerself by out-eating the most iron-bellied of us all, Gooblah the Grarrl."

"OK, I'll do it," Jaime answered, trying to sound confident.

The Blumaroo chuckled nastily and said, "Oh, will ye now? Gooblah might have something to say about that. Gooblah, rouse yer scurvy bones and come here. Ye've got a challenger."

From deep in the dimness of the room, Jaime heard a creaking, followed by heavy, ponderous footsteps. And then, from the gloom, Gooblah the Grarrl appeared...

Gooblah continued his slow approach until he stood directly in front of the quaking Usul, who then realised the Grarrl's legendary size was indeed rooted in fact. As Jaime tried to stretch himself to his own full height, he noted that he could probably fit into the Grarrl's stomach... whole.

The aged Blumaroo snickered wickedly in Jaime's ear and asked, "Still up for a little competition, Sir Golden-Gut?" Narrowing his eyes, he added, "Or be ye Sir Yellow-Belly after all?"

The room erupted in gales of malicious laughter and Jaime looked around himself hesitantly, seeing pirates, famous and not, mocking him with their cruel merriment. As he returned his gaze to Gooblah, he noted that the Grarrl was the only one not laughing. Indeed, Gooblah was sizing him up, either as a challenger or as a snack, and the seriousness of his countenance steeled the Usul's resolve. After all, he had his reasons for wanting to become a member of the Food Club, and if this was the price of entrance he was compelled to pay it.

"All right," Jaime called above the laughter. "I accept the challenge."

The room fell silent once more. A blue Kacheek with gold-rimmed glasses and a scraggly beard approached from the shadows and clapped an encouraging hand on Jaime's back.

"Ah, very good, very good. This should make things interesting around here today." Squinting behind his lenses, the Kacheek appeared to appraise the Usul in much the same way that Gooblah had done. Taking a slow walk around Jaime, the Kacheek nodded with satisfaction at his own thoughts before announcing, "I give 300 to 1 odds on the wee sprog fer any of ye scurvy dogs who'd care to wager against yer own champion."

There was a clatter of chairs and tables as the members of the Food Club scrambled to make their wagers with the Bookie.

Jaime closed his eyes to block out the mayhem that the Bookie had instigated. When he reopened them, he was looking into Gooblah's face and could see that the Grarrl was trying to mouth something to him without the others noticing. As he refocused his gaze, Jaime could see that Gooblah was trying to tell him...