The Irresistible Feast

I wrote this in a short amount of time because i was bored, and felt like writing something humorous. Enjoy.

“I’VE GOT BLOOD ON MY HANDS!!!”  my pint-sized assistant howled as he ran himself in circles until the point of dizziness.

“That’s what happens when you make tapioca pudding with a butcher’s knife you twit.” I replied in an irritated tone that had become a frequent feature to my voice.  His name was assistant, a name I had dubbed to him upon discovering him in a psychiatric center in the far recesses of the world.  On his toes he stood knee-cap high. A bushy mustache that defined the word Ridiculous was the only form of hair other than his equally absurd eye brows, with beady darting eyes that never stayed fixed on anything for more than an immeasurably time.  Needless to say he was a jittery, excitable fellow, as much as he was a nuisance.  Perhaps it was what gained him entry to the establishment I had purchased him from, but decidedly it wasn’t worth the time to wonder.

            “Fetch the loaves of righteous Golden brown! Forged from the oven of glory!” I howled in command as Assistant wailed at the top of his lungs in panic before darting off again.  Some call me mad.  Others dare say I’m insane.  All the rest have never even heard my name.  But I assure you, those deemed privileged enough to fetch this narration, that I WILL concoct a feast SO fantastic, that no man nor woman nor beast living or even half dead will be able to resist it.  You may ask why I would create such a thing with my wealth of knowledge and skill of creation.  And though I have an answer, I will decline to share, for I care not whether you had asked the previously presumed question.

            “SOMONE LEFT THE POTATO SALAD OUT!!”  Assistant hollered with a twitch, extending the two gloriously golden loaves forth.

“I took out the potato salad assistant.”

“CUZ I DIDN’T TAKE THAT OUT!! I PUT IT AWAY I SWEAR TO GOD I PUT IT AWAY LAST NIGHT!!... AND I DIDN’T NIBBLE AT IT EITHER!”

“And I swear that if I find even a tooth mark on one potato chunk I will hit you in the face SO hard it will rearrange your anatomy!  Now fetch the Baked Ham of Honey!  Also forged from the Oven of Righteousness!”

“AAAAAAAAAAH!!” He shrieked.  “I THOUGHT IT WAS THE OVEN OF GLOOOOORY!?”  I responded by clenching a fist and wound it back, sending him frightened and wild back to the Kitchenette of Doom.  Did I hit him? Frequently.  But he may as well have had a tattoo of a bulls-eye on his face from how easily one found it to strike him.  The table had nearly been set.  The salads and soups placed in congruence to one another, just to the right portion of the four-foot diameter table.  The loaves sat in direct center.  A single set of plastic utensils placed atop a napkin folded to perfection at the table’s forefront.  It was all coming to fruition.  “AaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAHH! F*****G S**T THE PLATE IS SO F*****G HOT!”  The scream built up like that of a vocalist of an epic metal band, chunks of flem and saliva blasting forth as he bellowed himself hoarse.  I gave the plate a moment to really leave it’s mark as it seared Assistant’s palms, and picked the plate up with a dish towel, placing the wondrous, glistening Ham of Honey Baked to the right of the Loaves.

            All that was left was desert.  The Fruit Cocktail of Alluring Intrigue, picked from the Garden of Mystery and Suspense, washed in the sink of… where was the pudding?  “WHERE’S THE F*****G PUDDING ASSISTANT!?”  I shouted in a pitch that rivaled his own, responded to by his own as he streaked off wailing.  He leaped back into the dining area of the laboratory (my dining area is in my laboratory, don’t judge me), shivering radically as if he’d consumed a tankard of espresso, berries and bits of tapioca popping up out of their respective bowls like little dull fireworks.  “Give me that you nitwit of a living thing.  You almost ruined everything! Everything I have worked and strived for!” I proclaimed, shaking a single fist towards the heavens, then taking the bowls and placing them just diagonal of the Ham.   I stopped for a moment and gazed upon my work.  Truly, it was nothing short of irresistible.

 “Now leave the front door ajar and get to your hiding position!” I jeered back over my shoulder.  Assistant barreled for the door, slammed face first into it, cracked it open ever so slightly, and hopped into the closest corner throwing a decorative tapestry over himself.  Good enough.

            I myself pulled back the fake wall affront the table, and pulled it closed behind me, and turned to the hole that rested directly across from my face.  Now came the grand finale of my master plan: the waiting game.

Reviews

[Josh121]

Bahahaha I love it. I love the craziness of the master and I love the stupidity of the "assistant". What the hell were you thinking when you wrote this? But what ever it was it made for a great story.

[AK]

Awesome!

[Timothy Lawmowe]

WOW f*****g great!!!!!! so unique! lotsa grammar problems, but i have a feeling this was done pretty wuick. doesn't matter, still awesome! needs to be more!

[Sasha]

There's spelling/punctuation errors scattered throughout, but it's not bad for something you wrote in a really short amount of time. I was amused in a "Wow, this is odd." kind of way reading most of it. "Did I hit him? Frequently. But he may as well have had a tattoo of a bulls-eye on his face from how easily one found it to strike him." I felt bad, but I found that part the funniest. It's definitely different, I'll give you that.