A Hot Meal for Steve UFLI Foundations Lesson 85

Steve walks up from the sea. He is wet. He has a fat cod fish in his hand. 'Lunch!' Steve yells. 'I am the top fisherman!' He sniffs it. The cod is cold and slick, not hot at all.

Steve sets the cod in the grass. The cod looks back at him. 'I will not eat you like this!' Steve says. 'You need to be hot and crispy.' He rubs his chin. 'I need a fire. That is not hard.'

Not hard at all! Steve grabs a stack of logs. He strikes a spark. Flames leap up! Smoke streams into the sky. 'Neat!' Steve says. 'I am the best fire maker!' He sets the cod next to the fire. 'We just wait.'

Steve sits to check his fish. The fire pops and crackles. Heat hits his face. Steve winces. He lifts his arm over his face. 'That is very hot!' He steps back, but just a bit. The best fire maker does not run from his fire.

Steve leans in and sets the cod into the fire. 'Each side needs to feel the fire,' he says. 'That way it gets hot all the way in.' He brushes off his hands. 'Trust me. I am good at this.'

The cod is golden. It smells so nice. 'Time to eat!' Steve grabs the fish with both hands. His eyes go wide. He gasps. 'Hot! Hot! Hot!' Steve tosses the fish from hand to hand. On the hill, a sheep stops eating to peek at him.

The next day, Steve finds a raw chicken. His belly is empty. His hands are still pink from the fish. 'This time I will not rush,' Steve says. 'I will set up a fire and heat the chicken. I will not grab it with my hands.'

Steve looks. Then he peeks between the trees. No logs. No sticks. Not even a twig. Just grass, big trees, and a small craft. 'I can not burn a craft!' Steve snaps. 'I need logs! Where are all the logs?'

Steve trudges up a hill. He stops. The sun sinks. His belly screams so hard that birds flee a tree. The chicken hangs from his hand. 'I just need a hot meal,' Steve whispers. 'Is that a lot to ask?'

Then Steve peeks at his feet. A pit of lava gleams in the grass! Steve gasps. His eyes shine like the lava. 'Hot!' Steve yells. 'That is very hot! I do not even need logs!'

Steve finds a long stick and jabs it into the chicken. He holds the chicken over the lava. Heat beams up. 'See?' Steve grins. 'Neat and clean. I am good at this.'

Then Steve tosses the chicken into the lava. A tiny sizzle. A puff of smoke. And then... nothing! No chicken at all. Not even a drumstick. No hot meal for Steve. Steve looks at his hands. The stick is on fire. 'Maybe I am not so good at this,' Steve says.