Snargletooth

People rarely ventured into the shadowy web of alleys behind McDrundle Street, and the Snargletooth knew it. The creature had just emerged from the sewer with a crisp head of red cabbage tucked into its pouch, and intended to find a dark corner of the labyrinth where it could enjoy its leafy treat in peace. Sadly, its search for such a spot was interrupted when an unlucky couple stumbled off the main drag and miraculously made the perfectly correct series of left and right turns to put them face-to-face with the beast.

The couple immediately realized their predicament. They had forgotten their Snargletooth Translator 4000 at home that evening—a grave blunder based on the creature's bulging treasure pouch and paranoid glare. (Snargletooths were notorious for collecting valuable trinkets and for having a tremendous distrust of humans.) Without any means of communication, they knew they stood little chance of deescalating the situation.

The mantra of the beast’s dearly departed mother echoed through its head. “Humans are bullies! Bullies get bites!” It would not allow these menaces to threaten its beloved cabbage. It would make its mother proud. “HONK HONK HONK HONK!” it trumpeted, launching forward to initiate the infamous Snargletooth chomping attack.

Staring into the maw of razor-sharp teeth, the couple felt neither fear nor sadness—only bemused contentment. Their hearts were full of laughter and bellies pleasantly warm from ribeye and a few bottles of house red. They'd just enjoyed a thoroughly delightful meal at Tony’s Meat Palace and were in wonderful spirits. Out of all the possible ways to die, this was far from the worst.