There are elves in my soup. This is pissing me off: I chose the ingredients very carefully, and small green twittering things simply aren’t appropriate. Besides, one of them bit me when I grabbed them and tried to stuff them into the waste disposal – I should have worn gloves. Without them at least the soup’s gone back to its proper colour: dark, noir even, with the correct dirty glints from streetlights in the rain. The smell is a bit unwashed, smoky rooms with a hint of gunpowder and French perfume, but I think that’s within spec.
There are still problems: every now and then something bubbles to the surface and I have to be quick with the strainer. The spaceships are easy, they’re large and obvious enough to grab and the lasers are a bit fucked from all the garlic so they don’t really fight back. The garlic, of course, explains why I keep on finding the bloody vampire teeth, which are slippery, and tend to vanish back into the depths with a slight sucking sound when I grope for them. Annoying. Hopefully they’ll disintegrate.
Stir, stir, stir. The danger is if you turn up the heat too high and it bubbles over. I don’t want a damned apocalypse, it’s not appetising, what with the burned smell and the clouds of smoke. I’ve tried very hard to balance the flavours here; it’s not as if I’m working from a recipe, but there are traditions, after all.
Soup for you? I made it myself.