|Knock on the Door ▼
I didn't know where the door came from, but I really wanted to see what's on the other side. I tryed the knob but it was locked, so I knocked. A little door near where a peephole should be, opened and I saw part of a squinched up face. "We aren't taking applicants." The door slid shut again.
I knocked again. When the door slid open I spoke quickly, "I am not applying." The little man grunted and the door slid shut.
I knocked again. When the door slid open I said, "I have a delivery."
He looked at my empty hands, "I don't see any packages." He slid the door closed again.
I knocked, tired of this game. The door slid open, "It is a singing telegram."
He grunted, "Is that still a thing?"
"I work for a retro company."
"Where is your costume?"
"In the laundry, this was a very important delivery so I had to rush..."
He sighed, "What's the password?"
"What is the password."
I sighed then tried, "What?"
He smiled, "Come on in." The little door slid closed and I heard an army of locks unlocked. He opened the door and gestured for me to come through.
Now all I needed to do was come up with a singing telegram.
The Kitchen ▼
The cook smiled at me with mindless enthusiasm. "What are we making?" I asked.
"Monkfish," she replied placing a pan with a trout dressed up like a monk, down to the strange little ring of hair on its head.
I looked at it and opened and closed my mouth. I imagine I looked like the fish had when it was still swimming happily in a stream. "That is a trout."
"No, it's a monkfish!" The cook nodded.
This was all starting to get to me. I removed the brown woolen robes and small rosary wound round beneath its dorsal fin. Then I began plucking the horsehair wig from the fish's head. Once that was done I took a butterknife and began scaling the fish.
"Well, now it is just a trout!"
I sighed, I had actually cooked a real monkfish once and wasn't finding the substitution funny. "I need some lemons and dill.
The cook grumbled and returned with a jar of pickles and some lemon drops, "Will these do?"
I frowned and rinsed the fish. "No, do you have thyme?"
"Heavens no, dinner is supposed to be ready in ten minutes!"
"Are there any herbs in this place?"
"Herb lives three doors down but he doesn't know how to cook fish either..."
That was when I decided to just season with salt. There was a small bowl with a crystalline substance, I double-checked that it was salt and sprinkled it on the fish. There was a hot pan on the stove. I put some butter in it and began frying the fish whole. I didn't care if it was good. I just wanted it cooked. The cook pulled the side dish from the oven and released the worst smell into the kitchen. "Good grief! What is that?"
"Au-rotten potatoes," The cook smiled.
I plated the trout with no further comment. I just wanted this chore over with. The cook carried the au-rotten potatoes into the dining room and I followed with the fish. The guests oohed and ahhed the au-rotten potatoes.
The Duchess looked over my fish with a scowl. "You said you could cook monkfish! Where are its robes? Its rosary? Its hair? You are a horrible cook!"
With that scolding, I slammed the tray of trout on the table and left the house.
We Are All Mad Here ▼
I dressed for snow,
but I found sunshine.
I hoped for a ride,
but in the end, I walked.
I thought I'd eat,
but found no food.
I thought I'd read,
but ended up writing.
I thought my day would suck,
but in the end, it was good.