“Oh,” the mountain ogre said in his low rumble of a tone.
“Yes, sir, I mean, master, I-” The human servant pulled at his sleeves and found that he could not look into the gargling maw of the beast.
“You say, they is no food?” The ogre said. Spittle on the great ogre’s chin and bare chest dashed the evening light into beautiful stars.
“That is, sir, because there isn’t any,” the human said.
“Oh,” the ogre said. “There is no food.”
“There is no more master, the flocks have all fled. You’ve had most of your expendable soldiers, and the truth is we are starving sir – master.”
“There is no more food here.”
“Hah!” the Ogre laughed and shook the air. “But this is not true.”
“What do you mean master?”
“You say no food, I say you are food.”
The Ogre groaned to his feet and stretched his magnificent legs. He took a deep breath as he squatted and straightened three times.
“Master, I have – You would not like me sir, I -” The man coughed, but there was uncertainty in it and the ogre smiled.
“Hah, you say no food, but here you are. Come, I am hungry.”
“Master, you’re always hungry.”
“Oh.” Was the last thing the massive beast said, in his stoney drawl, before plucking the man off his feet, and feeding him to his insatiable maw.