((Hee! I was going to take it in the opposite direction, but this is
actually more cheerful than my idea.))
Chef is, accordingly, one of the noblest professions. There is no
higher calling than to prepare the polyps for consumption. Dried by the
heat from the red sky of day, or baked in ovens made of the stony brown
"pits" at the center of the polyps, or stewed in the thin pink blood of
Grudnip, or fried in the oil of rendered cancerous fat. Thin-sliced or
thick, carved into the intricate geometric shapes, flavored with
fine-ground crystals carefully cultivated by irritating the walls of the
deepest tunnels, mixed with polyps from different parts of Grudnip to
capture the full spectrum of tastes and textures. The ingenuity of the
greatest chefs is impressive, and they zealously guard their recipes and
secrets from imitators as they compete for the throne of Grudnip. For
who better to rule than one who will ensure the productivity of their
people?