A tale of intrigue, recipes, and a Weekly Writing Challenge.
The room was dark. Amidst the hodgepodge of grainy unused shelves and dusty boxes, a sudden burst of light filled the otherwise vacant room.
The sound of static soothed the air, and the newborn image upon the television screen slowly changed from chaotic black and white scribbles to something with shape and form. A sexy shape and form. A woman. She slowly tossed back her burgundy hair and gave the camera a dazzling smile. Was this the late night adult channel?
The batter-covered whisk soon came into view, and it became apparent. This was no X-rated flick (though the woman was most definitely worthy of such fame); this was the Cooking Channel. Pots and pans littered the large kitchen counter, faintly covered in salt and pepper. You could almost smell the cayenne pepper wading through the air, almost see it flying with a grace that only cayenne pepper can exude. The bright fluorescent lights shone down on the scene and created a cheery and clean atmoshphere.
“Good Evening,” the woman crooned, seductively licking batter off the whisk, “and welcome to Cooking with Totally Hot Women Who are Great at Everything.”
As soon as the woman finished the absurdly long albeit highly accurate title of her cooking show, a scuffle was heard from above and a group of ninjas unexpectedly descended from the ceiling and attacked the defenseless woman with the ferocity of a tiger in a monsoon. Swords were drawn, daggers thrown, nunchucks unsheathed; the distinct battle cry of the veteran slaughterers filled the air as they kicked with the flurry of one thousand badgers intoxicated with energy drinks and skittles. The battle carried on for some time until a sudden plume of smoke burst forth and blanketed the surroundings with silence. As the debris slowly settled, a form could be seen standing triumphantly, a large object in hand.
“The first ingredient of today’s recipe,” the woman announced breathlessly, “is the head of a fallen ninja.” She deposited her foe’s cranium into a cast iron pot (the type her mother had always used) and sprinkled a dash of cinnamon to compliment the strength and determination the ninja head represented.
The crowd was silent.
The woman flashed her dazzling smile once again.
She began to sift through the cupboards, grabbing an array of ingredients to add to her mysterious recipe. A gallon of coffee for brutal honesty; a squirt of lemon juice for humor; a teaspoon of vanilla representing innocence; and one cup of dark chocolate to keep it classy.
“The next ingredient in our recipe is-” the woman suddenly stopped, her well-crafted face turning as white as the piano keys she often played. A mailman had arrived on set carrying two tiny packages, one in each hand. He approached her cheerfully, his friendly smile and eager eyes a dangerous omen of the trouble that was soon to come.
“HELLO MA’AM!” the mailman cheerfully bellowed, his whitened teeth blinding the woman. “I have two packages for you today, but you can only choose one. Sorrryyyyyy.” The woman rubbed her eyes and cautiously scanned the two packages, indecision tormenting her brain. Finally deciding on the package in the left hand (she was left-handed after all), she quickly snatched the small box from the mailman’s sweaty hands and clumsily backed away from him. He tipped his hat and was on his way, but not before depositing the other package into the cast iron pot where the woman’s concoction was slowly coming together.
“Well folks,” she started off shakily, plastering a smile on her face in hopes that nobody had noticed her weakness, “let’s open up this package and see what the surprise ingredient of the day is!”
Inside the box crouched a tiny bat, his wings wrapped around his fragile head in an effort to avoid the sunlight and intruding gaze of the crowd. It was evident that he needed comfort and interaction, but he appeared too scared to reach out and ask for it. Night-dwelling, lonesome, mysterious…the bat and the woman were a good comparison. She sighed and gently lay the bat in the pot, stroking its battered ears. A small chirp resounded from the unopened package next to the bat, but the woman didn’t dare open that box. She feared birds, even though this one in particular was bright and cheerful and completely harmless.
She ignored the paradox of her recipe and continued on, the crowd attentive and tense.
“Next I will add a sloth’s toe for awkwardness, and finally-” she paused to deposit the hairy limb, “a dinosaur egg covered in salsa to represent the absurdly nonsensical side of me.”
The crowd gasped. She had been using a recipe about herself?
Slowly a form rose from the pot, much like the rebirth of Voldemort in the 4th Harry Potter but less creepy. More like a really hot swimsuit model emerging from a pool, if you think about it. The form tossed back her cascading hair and smiled at the dumbstruck crowd, her satisfied expression highlighting her egotistical nature. She was strong, and determined, and honest; she could be funny at times, but she was also a very classy individual. Although she liked to think of herself as intelligent, she was often too innocent to understand things. Somehow she possessed both introversion and an outgoing personality, much to her confusion. But deep down she was gripped with fear; she was scared of people, and being in public, and forming relationships. She was too stubborn to admit to her faults though, and that was the way she liked it. Most of all, she was an individual.
“Hi, I am MediocreNinJa. And I like to party.”
The crowd cheered.