Appreciate the People Who Make Your Food
1091 Words
"What the hell is this?" Regulus sat at the table, knife and fork in hand, eyeing the pile of what looked like 'meat' on his plate suspiciously.
"It's a steak fry!" Quincy eagerly helped him drizzle the sauce over the steak.
Regulus cut off a piece of meat, picked it up with his fork and held it up to Quincy. The meat looked almost raw and stained with blood. "You call this a 'cooked' steak? It's totally raw, isn't it?"
Quincy scratched his head, "I 'fried' it, for a minute and a half as Miss Selena instructed, so you can't call it a 'rare' steak, it's about fifteen percent the same as a 'raw' steak. There's a fifteen percent difference between it and a 'rare' steak!"
Regulus dropped his fork in indignation and scratched furiously at his hair, "Barbarism! How barbaric! It's still at the stage of drinking blood and hair! As a modern man, I want to eat cooked food!"
The young werewolf turned the steak on his plate with his fork, not understanding why his master was not happy. "But Miss Selena said ......"
"Selena is a vampire! She doesn't even need to grill her food! The more blood she has, the happier she is!"
"I tasted some of it before and it didn't taste that bad ......"
"Because you're a werewolf! You can eat raw meat! But I'm a human! A human! Humans are human because they can use fire!"
Quincy immediately picked up his plate, "I see! I'll do it again, please wait!" Regulus rolled his eyes to the sky and flopped down on the dining table. He thought it would be easier with another servant in the house, but the gap between reality and ideal was heartbreaking ......
Quincy returned ten minutes later with a plate. His expression was blank, his movements sluggish, and he held the plate like a six-year-old boy holding his dead pet, horrified that there was such a thing as death.
"I'm sorry, Lord Regulus ......," Quincy drawled, watering.
Regulus stared at the charred, blackened mass on his plate, no longer recognisable as a shape. "What is this?!"
"Steak ......" Quincy whimpered back, "I accidentally ...... I swear it was really just a simple fry, I didn't think it would turn out like this ......"
This guy's cooking is no better than mine," Regulus said, his mind thundering. This is not the result of 'simple frying'. It was thrown into an incinerator and then pulled out!
"Sir Regulus, I'll make it again ......"
"Forget it," said the wizard, holding his forehead helplessly, "you can just fry an egg and be done with it."
"How can that be! If you eat fried eggs all the time, you'll have too much cholesterol!"
You know about cholesterol! Should I praise you for your knowledge?
"That's not necessary." Regulus got up and left the table, "I'll have some fruit."
"Fruit!" Quincy shouted, "Not just fruit, you're so thin, you should get more protein and sugar!"
"I'm losing my appetite looking at your 'food mountain'!" Regulus cast a disgusted glance at the plate in Quincy's hand and turned to leave the restaurant, returning to his study to continue his unfinished research, completely oblivious to the lost expression on the young werewolf's face.
BANG--!
A loud, ground-shaking noise startled Regulus and he fell out of his chair. He raised a heavy grimoire in front of him as a shield. If he hadn't been living in the new century, but in the Second World War, he would have thought that German planes were bombing again.
The loud ...... sound made the wizard look around in disbelief. If he had heard it right, it would have come from .......
"What happened? Has the kitchen gas exploded?!"
He rushed into the kitchen and, as expected, found it in a state of disarray. Pots and pans had fallen all over the floor and a large hole in the wall revealed a view of the lush forest in the distance. If you ignore the scorched blackness of the wall and the smoke that fills the area, the view is quite breathtaking!
The young werewolf huddled on the ground, his back arched in a standard "protect your vital organs from the shrapnel" position. At the sound of Regulus' roar, he tilted his head timidly, his face black with soot, looking like an Allied soldier who had just retreated to the trenches from the front lines of a fierce battle.
"Don Regulus ......" he looked on the verge of tears, "I was researching cooking methods and I accidentally ...... I don't know what happened, the pan just ...... exploded ......"
Regulus stared in despair at the broken hole in the wall. A frying pan exploded? It was a bloody mini-version of the Tungus Explosion! No one would doubt it even if he said the kitchen had been hit by a meteorite falling from the sky!
"Sorry, Don Regulus, I'll clean it up!" Quincy sounded very distressed.
Regulus was dizzy and had to hold on to the wall to stand still.
"Clare, what the hell do you have against me, why are you doing this to me? ......" He blamed the whole disaster on his harmful friend who was thousands of miles away. And Quincy, who had actually caused the disaster, carefully straightened his upper body; it turned out that he had just curled up on the floor with his back arched to protect an object beneath him.
"Lord Regulus, please try this!" The werewolf youth held up a porcelain plate in both hands with a sad expression on his face.
In the centre of the plate lay a steak of poor quality, half of it almost burnt, the other half obviously still raw, and one wondered what had happened to it to be in such a state. But compared to the 'char' Quincy had served at lunchtime, this was a masterpiece.
Regulus' eyes darted around the steak and Quincy's face. The plate was immaculate, but Quincy was as dirty as an African refugee.
"I've tried so many times, but I've failed, and this is the best yet! Please try it!"
"Is that what you ...... are ...... doing to protect this?" A strange feeling welled up in Regulus' mind, he felt a little funny and touched by the whole thing. He'd heard that saying before, "The food you eat becomes part of your body, so appreciate the person who gives it to you," and Quincy's handiwork, while not great - well, disastrous - was half-hearted.
- Writer
