Dome of Souls (Book 2 of 2, after Story Less Told)

Ch9: The selection

"Ladies, it has been an honor to let you make me copious amounts of food for my personal enjoyment, and I have enjoyed most of your dishes, but there can be only one Forged in Flambe, top culinary champion, to win the ten thousand dollar grand prize!" he said dramatically.

"There is a cash prize?!" asked a rather obliviously shocked Melody.

"No, rice-bowl, he just watched way too many cooking shows and you're too dumb to get the joke." Whispered Abby.

"Ten points for Abby. Minus ten for rice-bowl. And the first chef going home today is...commercial break!" he announced. A dead silence followed for a good 5 seconds "It's rice bowl!" he added enthusiastically.

"What?!" she hollered. "But I made your favorite!" she objected.

"Exactly. I randomly added favorites to the printers to see of anyone would try and cheat by printing my favorite dish, and then just throw some bullshit spices on top and pretend it's scratch made...and you burned the salmon just trying to warm it all up together because you printed off fully cooked fish and then put it in a hot pan with the other stuff. You can't take perfectly cooked food and then cook it more, that's just stupid. Rice-bowl is the weakest loser and probably dumber than a 5th grader...oh good lord I do watch too much TV, I need to get off this freaking island." he sighed.

"So who won?" asked Lexi.

"Nobody yet, you do an appetizer, a main course and a desert round and someone gets eliminated every...does anyone even watch cooking shows?" he asked, feeling a little bummed that his jokes fell on deaf and dumb ears.

Greg stood sternly, looking down at the plates and took another bite of each as he contemplated.

"That is not bad, not bad at all...except this one, this is definitely bad. Whoever made this should be arrested. Taco Jose makes better salsa than this in single serving packets. What in the hot-shit is this?" he asked Evonne.

"You only gave us 20 minutes." she said trying not to get emotional.

"Okay, just don't cry, I hate crying. You're too nice to be this bad at making food. Can you do anything? Can you...I dunno, paint? Do electrical work? Are you good with mowers, we have grass. I just really don't wanna suggest cleaning my house because with you being some portion Mexican it just seems racist."

"I'm half Puerto-Rican." she said pouting slightly.

"Oh thank fuck, can you clean?" he asked with a sigh of relief. She sniffled and nodded, giving him a hug.

"It's fine, you're a sweet gal and we'll keep you around. Don't ever cook me food though, never food, never again." he said comfortingly. As she walked off with Roxy to find a room somewhere near the cleaning supplies. He returned to the table and rolled up his sleeves, his hands glowing slightly to sterilize them from the emotions and the fruity perfume.

"I hate perfume. And now for the Desert round, where one of you two respectable cooks will be making the final, and the winning dish." he said as Lexi raised her hand. "Yes Lexi.

"There are 3 of us left." she noted.

"No, it's just them. I assumed you knew how bad your food was and would just walk away without a scene. It's like how back in the old days when a Knight would screw up so badly, he would kill himself by falling on his sword so the king wouldn't have to command it. I assumed you would metaphorically fall on your spatula and just go home after tasting that garbage you presented." he said. She pouted up and pretended to cry slightly. "Fascinating." he said, examining her sobbing closer. "When the Puerto-Rican chick did it, I actually felt kinda guilty...I thought I was going soft or something. Nope, just a fluke. I guess she's just genuinely nice. Check will arrive direct deposited in the morning, please take your horrendous food with you, I care way too much about the wildlife to throw it outside." he said as she stormed away disappointed.