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ankewehner: "Cooking is easy: Throw stuff in a pot and turn up the heat."
* * *
“Well, on the plus side they didn’t shave us,” Melanie noted.
“It’s the little things I suppose,” Rolas agreed. They were tied back to back, sitting in a… where had a bunch xenophobic islanders gotten a 200 gallon iron cooking pot anyway? He glared at the head chef as the fellow laid logs around the pot and began pour in water. “Got any bright ideas?”
“Yes, complain to the management.” Melanie turned her head towards the chef. “Look, you’re going about this completely wrong!” she called out.
“Dearheart, what are you doing?” Rolas whispered urgently.
“Just watch,” she whispered back. To the chef she yelled, “Look, you’re just going to boil in water, honestly?”
The chef, who spoke a few words of corrupted Basic, glared back at her and said, “What you mean?”
“What, no spices? No vegetables?”
“We gots roots and fruits. That it. You think you do better?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Rolas, if you would?”
He got his footpads underneath himself, standing up in the pot and lifting his wife bodily out with him as he stepped over the rim.
“Thank you, dear,” Melanie said. Then she kicked the chef with both feet, shouting. “RUN!”
ankewehner: "Cooking is easy: Throw stuff in a pot and turn up the heat."* * *
“Well, on the plus side they didn’t shave us,” Melanie noted.
“It’s the little things I suppose,” Rolas agreed. They were tied back to back, sitting in a… where had a bunch xenophobic islanders gotten a 200 gallon iron cooking pot anyway? He glared at the head chef as the fellow laid logs around the pot and began pour in water. “Got any bright ideas?”
“Yes, complain to the management.” Melanie turned her head towards the chef. “Look, you’re going about this completely wrong!” she called out.
“Dearheart, what are you doing?” Rolas whispered urgently.
“Just watch,” she whispered back. To the chef she yelled, “Look, you’re just going to boil in water, honestly?”
The chef, who spoke a few words of corrupted Basic, glared back at her and said, “What you mean?”
“What, no spices? No vegetables?”
“We gots roots and fruits. That it. You think you do better?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Rolas, if you would?”
He got his footpads underneath himself, standing up in the pot and lifting his wife bodily out with him as he stepped over the rim.
“Thank you, dear,” Melanie said. Then she kicked the chef with both feet, shouting. “RUN!”
