CookingBites Add-On Story Telling: Volume 1

Just so you know, I decided to include everything as it was entered, with a few minor adjustments. In some cases, words were capitalized to start a post, but they were really meant to be lowercase. That was mostly all. I also broke it into what seemed like logical paragraphs. I have to say, it was quite a story.
 
Today, I decided to do something new: I Went out the other door to the secret walled garden. Normally, we only use it for intimate moments under the stars, while the moon cast a ghostly pall over the plants and makes the water in the fountain shimmer as quick silver and the nightshade berries gleam. We hardly speak, except to toast marshmallows over the flames of our campfire, while drinking champagne and laughing at old episodes of "Fawlty Towers."

I reached into my bag and got out my car keys and looked around hoping to see the fireworks. But all I saw was the fire in your eyes while your hands were reaching for the torch in your handbag. However, that was dead, so we had to use my phones light and make our way to the car. It was already running and the backseat passenger yelled out something unintelligible and proceeded to throw a large greasy looking bag full of what looked like bacon! Was this an awesome Mardi Gras twist or just a dream come true?

With surprise, I reached up to grab the bag with one hand, the other ready to fend off whatever was climbing over the wall. It looked friendly enough, really, except for the 12-inch long rifle tucked under its arm. Suddenly, from inside the house a screeching pig came running with a bloody knife in it's mouth. It ran forward, displacing the bag. Was that bacon related to the pig? Was it his mother? Was it his brother?

The pig began to dance on it's hind legs and sing about Mary and her little lamb. Then he disappeared in a puff of smoke. I ran as fast as I could back to the safety of the garden, but I tripped over Pirogue. I paddled down the bayou faster than an alligator can swim.

To my surprise a Rougarou swam by and tried to grab my bag of bacon. I quickly grabbed my shoes out of the mouth of the hungry alligator, swam until all of a sudden I felt something grab my leg! I struggled to pull it out of the alligators mouth. Then I realized I had a choice: the bacon or my leg. So I grabbed the bacon and paused: this was REALLY good bacon. But, I had some really good looking legs, and I liked both equally. I gave the bacon to the gator hoping to fend off losing at least one leg, then I heard a shot and a pterodactyl dropped dead from the sky, and landed on the gator, my leg came popping out and kicked me in the mouth.

I then swam to the bank, climbed out and went to town to pick up a bottle of bbq sauce to use when I grill the pterodactyl with a side of 'Gallantine of Alligator' with Mustard Dill Sauce and McDonald's fries, washed down with at least (I need) 3 bottles of beer and a pint of liquorice flavoured vodka. For dessert there will be bacon ice cream. After dinner I had a glass of port, ferret coffee and chocolate covered ants.

After the feast I woke up. Phew, what a dream. I then wondered why there was a chocolate covered ant on my pillow. Then I decided to learn to swim, but not before I checked the swamp for gators. And pterodactyls. And bacon. I went back and not a sign of anything.

But there was my dear old friend, Jacob who was learning to play the violin. It sounded like he needed more lessons. I heard the sound of music was on in the back ground, then I joined in the soiree by singing "The hills are alive....." like Julie Andrews only could pretend to sing, however her voice was driving me crazy so I popped a bottle of champers open. That's when I saw the sun rising: I had spent all night in bed with a strange woman who smiled knowingly.

Returning from the hills later that day, I went to a hardware store and bought a knife and zip ties and a big gumball out of the gumball machine, then I stripped down to go swim naked in the septic tank, which smelled like h***, so I put my clothes back on and realized I should've bathed before dressing.

So then, I had a shower with a blowup doll that I deflated, and threw outside in the trash and got dressed up to head into town and take in a movie. Great, they're showing nothing on at all, so I wasted the trip into town. Next thing I knew, I tripped on a crack in the footpath, fell onto the floor breaking my fall with something that was white and squishy and felt like jello, then I realised creme brulee isn't the ideal cushion, though tasty.

After I ate the rest of the brulee, I realized I had sprained my elbow in the fall. Got up and headed straight for the kitchen. I needed to make more lower region, so I stretched my arms out clapped my hands together, and suddenly there was a knock at the front door: it was a hooker wanting to borrow my phone and a smoke but, before I could find the panic room I noticed the meat hook, and I thought, "Oh...THAT kind of hooker."

Then, cast my mind back to the alligator and how tasty it would be barbecued. Of course, by this time I was beginning to doubt my ability to cook as well as my sanity. Did all these things really happen? Or was it all an elision of CookingBites members' weird thoughts. The internet doctors diagnosed a case of too many delicious recipes causing blurred vision which would impair the driving of gourmet streetfood vans and likewise make coherent storytelling virtually impossible.

Therefore, I decided to go back to basics. One thing I learned from school don't let others speak for you. Stand up. No elbows on the table. No licking knives. Or smoking in the toilets. But we often smoked salmon in the loo anyway; the aftertaste was disgusting though, so some said. Yet to me the fragrance was redolent of lemons, it made me feel very verclempt and sad, thinking of my mothers cooking. She used to make the most amazing home made barbecued chops and my father used to love her homemade pizza sauce and her twice fried fries that crunched in your mouth, she also could make a fluffy pavlova that was topped with cream and berries that had been picked from the neighbour's garden under the cover of darkness for fear of being discovered by their big pit dog inside the house who was busy sleeping off the prime rump steak I'd found in my rucksack along with some rather stinky clothes and a couple bottles of an avocado and hemp hand cream.

Early the next morning, I went out to a farmer's market as I was desperate for garlic bulbs that are said to ward off incoherent storytelling. I went back to sleep.

Finally.
 
Last edited:
I can't believe I laughed out loud. That was really funny. Thank you for putting it all together. Thats a lot of work. I hope everyone that contributed to the story enjoys it also. I am going to print it out for posterity. Thank you again.!!!!!!!
 
cookieee said:
I can't believe I laughed out loud. That was really funny. Thank you for putting it all together. Thats a lot of work. I hope everyone that contributed to the story enjoys it also. I am going to print it out for posterity. Thank you again.!!!!!!!
Click to expand...
It does read like a weird dream that you might have after eating something (and probably after smoking something). 🚬
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom