THIS RIGHT HERE is the inspiring prompt from some guy named /u/vercalos
"Tell me what you eat
and I'll tell you what you are."
Brillat-Savarin
Some years ago a Chairman's dream materialized into reality. A stage where all the world's culinary geniuses would do battle. That stage is now known as KITCHEN STADIUM. The Chairman spent countless moons scouring the earth in complete secrecy to assemble the most powerful masters of the best food disciplines. JAPANESE. FRENCH. CHINESE. ITALIAN. He called these gods amongst men THE IRON CHEFS. And here, now, before the world to bear witness a challenger approaches who has the gall to outperform them, to out cook them, to usurp their title and take it for their own. To apotheosize to the ranks of the truly elite of not just this world, but for all worlds after. What inspiration does today's challenger bring?!
Coming in a 7'4" tall and tipping the scales at a night unbelievable 529 lb, this mountain giant has, by his own account, eaten everything this puny planet has to offer. He's experienced every single known flavor combination and in his heart he believes that this allows him to stand above all even more so then his tremendous height. Never truly satiated, both in stomach and knowledge, he has dedicated his enormous life to cooking in pursuit of the truly ultimate meal. His name is Andre the Giant. Not to be taken lightly, because nothing about him is light.
The Chairman flying back hand springs on to the grand stage with the grace of a swan and the fury of an oni. His jet black hair glistening like a brilliant flame in the hot lights of KITCHEN STADIUM. Before him is the regiment of once worthy chefs standing at attention. They souls now belong to him after having lost to an IRON CHEF. Gently, the Chairman picks up a bell pepper, a pepper not oft used by those his homeland. Boldly, he grasps the pepper and takes a bite with a loud snap. He smugly smiles as he extends his arms in front of him as if you boast about how many lifeless culinary wanabees have lost their precious everlasting souls to this monster. A demon made flesh, he claps his hands twice and the lights shift to a menacing tunnel leading back stage. The crowd cheers wildly. Will this be the day an IRON CHEF is finally toppled?!
Andre stands there with all his glory, the floor buckling beneath is brilliance. The escort beside him, with his eyes rolled into the back of his head, presume he may tell Andre when he may approach the Chairman to begin the battle. He presumes wrong and Andre grabs him by the ascot and violently rips him forward then up, suspending the soulless man in the air. With a flick of his enormous, powerful wrist, he tosses the poor guy into the roaring fire behind the Chairman. The Chairman seems pleased at the pluck this young giant has. Unintimidated by the baffling smile of the Chairman, Andre approaches center stage.
"I welcome you Andre the Giant to KITCHEN STADIUM! NOW! LET ME INTRODUCE THE IRON CHEFS!" The empty vessels standing rigidly before the Chairman sing a haunting chorus. As frightening as it is epic, it rings throughout the massive stadium and silences the crowd. The spotlights focus intensely on a secondary stage. The IRON CHEFS rise slowly out of the ground, parting the gathering fog. Their culinary weapons of choice held tightly in their hands.
IRON CHEF JAPANESE! MACHO MAN RANDY SAVAGE! There he stands, the cream of the crop. His zebra print pants, vest, and bandanna barely contains his shining, tanned muscles. His pitch black sun glasses hide the glare of a cold blooded cooker. He snaps a Slim Jim over his knee demonstrating his power.
IRON CHEF FRENCH! MICHAEL JORDAN! Hovering in mid-air with his hands and legs out stretched in his iconic pose, Micheal Jordan dunked a watermelon he was holding not just into the ground, but clean through it. Deep below the stadium, the echo of a swish makes its way out of the hole. He towels off and stares at Andre with an intense competitiveness .
IRON CHEF CHINESE! POLAR BEAR! With icicles hanging from his massive jaw, Polar Bear lets out a eardrum collapsing roar. The two large fish he's holding in his paws shatter into perfect fish sticks. Polar Bear crosses falls back on all fours, poised and ready.
IRON CHEF ITALIAN! DONKEY KONG! Finally! He's here for you! He rises from the the fog, his tie blowing in the wind, his large smile showing his amazingly white teeth. In his hand he holds a coconut which it promptly smashes between his cutting board sized hands. When he opens them, it's a bunch of bananas.
The Chairman resumes, "ANDRE THE GIANT!! WHICH IRON CHEF DO YOU DARE TO CHALLENGE!?!?" The mountain of a man rests his hands on his massive hips, cracking the floor slightly beneath him. With a confident smile, he responds, "ALL OF THEM!!"
The eyes of the enslaved chefs roll forward and for a brief moment they regain their humanity. This first emotions they’ve felt since losing to the IRON CHEFS so long ago. The murmuring starts. No man has ever bested a single IRON CHEF in combat let alone all of them! The Chairman looks down at his slaves with half annoyed, half angry expression. He snaps his fingers and the chefs straighten back up, clicking their heels together. “HAI!” they shout in unison. The Chairman whistles sharp cheddarly. The chefs drop to their knees, “HAI!” Each chefs unsheathes the santoku chef knives at their sides. With a demonic gaze, the Chairman whistles again, this time so sharp cheddarly that Polar Bear winces and growls in pain. “HAI!” The chefs plunge their shining blades deep into their guts, slicing themselves open from left to right. They drop dead in a massive pile of blood and guts. No souls escape for the souls already belong to the Chairman.
He clears his throat and looks at Andre with slight smile, then he chuckles slightly, then he chuckles and little harder, and now his chuckling can no longer be stifled as it gives way to maddening laughter. His twisted face contorts a horrifying evil clown like smile. His eyes are as wide open as they can be while still being squinted from the pressure the smile is putting on his face. His hands are raised up to shoulder level with the palms open but fingers curled. The maniacal laughter hushes the audience even more than they were already hushed. The Chairman abruptly stops laughing and straighten out his jacket. He clears his throat again, “OF COURSE! YOU SHALL TAKE ON ALL IRON CHEFS! IRON CHEFS! STEP DOWN FROM YOU PEDESTALS AND ENTER KITCHEN STADIUM!!”
Thought stone faced and professional, the more perceptive out there could notice that the IRON CHEFS felt insulted as they made their way to the battlegrounds. Each one in their own right had earned a spot in this elite club and not a single challenge had come close to defeating them. Their cuisine reigned supreme, and now this mere mortal man thinks he can vanquish all the IRON CHEFS at once? That would not be tolerated. Andre scoffs at his competition and turns his attention towards the silk red curtain covering the secret ingredient. The Chairman is already mysteriously standing in front of it.
“A millennia ago, I ventured around this great earth in search of the single ingredient, the single flavor, that would unlock the pure essence of taste. The key that gives all food meaning! The key that drives our species to cook, create, and consume!” The Chairman’s muscles were tensing, his voice booming, “Now to unveil the secret ingredient!” His hands were glowing and he grabs the silk curtain and tears it away. “SURVIVAL INSTINCT!” On the table is an ephemeral mass of energy writhing and screaming with a palpable feeling of perseverance emitting off of it. The KITCHEN STADIUM orchestra punctuates the moment with a loud banging on timpani drums.
The IRON CHEFS are unconcerned. This is not the first time they’ve seen such and abstract secret ingredient. In the past they’ve had to compose 5 course dishes using laughter, shame, gravity, magic, and on-a-stick. Donkey Kong cracks his knuckles and grins wildly. He knows full well that each of the IRON CHEFS have honed their survival instinct to the sharpest it can be. Polar Bear must hunt and cook through the longer and longer springs as his icy home slowly fades into oblivion. Michael Jordan knows what it takes to not only win 6 NBA titles, but to also defeat and other worldly threat like the Monstars. No man can survive 3 minutes in the cage with Macho Man Randy Savage. And as for himself, no matter how many Kremlings, Zingers, and Tikis try to step to him, they all end up face down in the dirt. Andre stood no chance.
The gong sounds signaling the start of the competition! The reverberations permeate through the audience and those standing too close experience multiple organ failures. Immediately, the IRON CHEFS leap into action, snatching up the purest scoops of survival instinct they can. Michael Jordan leaps like a gazelle back and forth while calling out picks for his sous chefs to make. Like human brick walls, they try their best to impede the others making their way towards the ingredient table. Polar Bear tears one to shreds. The human meat awakens his bloodlust. Donkey Kong uppercuts another one into the crowd, the poor fool’s body splattering in midair and raining down on the cheering masses. Macho Man Randy Savage climbs on top of the oven, pumps his fans, and a flying elbow drops towards the ingredients table. Beneath this Adonis of man, Polar Bear continues to rip through the rest of the sous chefs, even his own. Macho Man lands on the table and shatters in in half.
All the IRON CHEFS return to their stations to work on the appe-teaser course. With all the useless sous chefs dead or maimed beyond function, they must create each dish themselves. As their whirlwind of activity pulls in energy, causing the light above to flicker and the audience closest to them to age rapidly, Andre the Giant calmly but powerfully walks over to the ingredients table to survey what survival instinct is left. Andre raises his ham sized fist high above his head and holds it momentary for dramatic effect. This grabs the attention of the IRON CHEFS. That ham fist meteors down, burning up the atmosphere around it, and demolishes the granite table. The abstract concept of energy absorbs into Andre’s meaty mitt. The Chairman raises an eyebrow in interest and nods to the Giant as he makes his way to his kitchen. It’ll be interesting to see how he incorporates that into his dishes.
“Now let’s meet our guest judges for this evening. First we have accomplished Food Network host! Guy Fieri!” Guy’s sunglasses automatically drop to his nose as he wiggle his pinky and thumb. “You’ve seen her win and Oscar! Natalie Portman!” Natalie nods mechanically, obviously under some sort of hypnotic spell. “Our last judge is none other than the human garbage disposal and multi-billionaire, Diamond Jim Brady!” Diamond pats his massive stomach, sending ripples all the way up his face. Suddenly the Chairman appears behind them and in an instant all their throats are slashed. Gurgling through the blood and fat, Diamond Jim Brady looks at the Chairman in shock, “Why?” he coughs violently and splats like a sack of boiled potatoes onto the floor. The Chairman pats his jacket, completely removing all the blood on it. “THERE WILL BE NO JUDGES OTHER THAN ME TONIGHT!” He screams and as if to further emphasize this point, he uses his dark magic to seal all the exits in KITCHEN STADIUM. “YOU ARE ALL NOW TRAPPED HERE TO WITNESS THE TERRIFYING CONCLUSION TO THIS MOST GLORIOUS BATTLE!!” and with that he teleports back to his throne overlooking the kitchens.
“Alright! It appears the IRON CHEFS are in a real groove now! I see meats and vegetables flying all over the place!”
“Fukui-san?”
“Yes Ohta?”
“I’m here with Chef Polar Bear who appears to be infusing survival instinct into the lobsters he’s about to boil. Polar Bear-san, what sort of flavor to you hope to achieve with this technique?” Polar Bear grumbles out a series of roars which are interpreted and played over a loud speaker for the audience’s benefit.
“With their hearts filled with so much resolve and determination, the lobsters will try to resist their boiling deaths. This desperation will be a strong flavor that I’ll be able to balance with some saffron infused wine. Also, I’ll need this!”
Polar Bear swipes Ohta’s arm clean off and pours some of the blood into the boiling water. Ever the consummate professional, Ohta continues his floor report. “There you have it Fukui-san” he winces slightly while trying to stay conscious. “Now I’ll check in on the… challenger…” Ohta faints from blood loss, his microphone still tightly gripped in his hand.
“Ohta? Well it seems things are getting wild on the floor we’ll check back with Ohta later!” Suddenly a head of rare tip of the iceberg lettuce chest passes right past Fukui-san’s head. CHEF MICHEAL JORDAN is passing and slamming all sorts of high dollar foods with reckless abandon. He finger rolls a double three-peat of truffles into a simmering BBQ sauce. With a spice rub of survival instinct thoroughly coating a rack of baby back ribs, His Airness adds the bubbling hot sauce, and OINK! SQUEEEE!! The ribs fight the lava like sauce and come to life. They grow in size and also regrow some of the more lethal pig parts, mainly the hooves. “Whoa whoooaaaa! Easy Pippen! Easy boy!” Michael Jordan calms the beast enough to carve off a few slices for his entrée, but there’s still and whole hog left. “Pippen, remember how we used to destroy the competition?” Pippen snorts and squees wildly, bronco bucking some (thankfully empty) pots and pants. “Well see him over there?” MJ points and Andre. “He’s the ’98 Jazz all over again!” Pippen’s front most rib bones twisted into a hideous but delicious looking pair of tusks. Pippen charged Andre but Andre was ready. He stood still ready to counter the wild tackle. At the last second, without out even panicking or even flinching, he unveiled the meat tenderizer he was palming like a magician. With a swift spinning back smash, Andre simultaneously dodged the attacked and shattered all the ribs. The beast began growing in size as the survival instinct it was infused with was not only what the Chairman provided, but some of Michael’s Secret Stuff as well, which is cheating by the way. Andre began tearing into and horfing down the rib meat faster than it can survive.
Licking his fingers in victory, Andre the Giant turned towards Michael Jordan who was staring him down while dribbling an extraordinarily large apple very slowly. “Well?” My said with a smirk, “You comin’ after my title or what?” Andre lunges with is arms out and ready to grapple. Jordan drives with his tongue. The clash and a blinding light radiates off of them. Any audience member who didn’t heed the warning to wear eye protection is now forever blind and also partially brain damaged. The rest of them scream with excitement. When the light settles, Andre has Michael in a vicious bear hug. MJ’s AJ1’s are squeaking against the marble floor of KITCHEN STADIUM. Somehow Michael Jordan slips loose with a silky smooth fade away. Andre is surprised but them licks his arms, “Butter…” he curls his lip, “Is this how you won all those championships?” Michael smirks about twice as hard as before. He stutter steps, crosses over, and then goes in for and sky high uppercut. The punch connects with a small explosion, but Andre’s head is only slightly cocked back and he’s completely unharmed. With an amused chuckle, Andrew scoops up the MVP and pressed him over his head. The crowd is really into this! Andre walks over to his stove top and kicks it apart. Flames spew out, whipping like snakes tongues. Andre is still chuckling his bass heavy chuckle. MJ watches with fear in his eyes. He starts having PTSD falshbacks to the Bad Boy Pistons of 1990. The panicked screaming only makes Andre chuckle deeper and with as much force as a Giant can muster, he throws the helpless Michael Jordon into the flames, roasting him way past original recipe into extra crispy.
The Chairman purses his lips and quickly claps twice. A gong bangs and a banner memorializing CHEF FRENCH MICHAEL JORDAN is dropped from the ceiling. The Chairman catches the banner and wads it up in his hand like a magician hiding a scarf. Then, with his other hand, he steals soul of Michael Jordan. “Regrettably, this chef has fallen in battle. His dishes will not be judged. He is forever disqualified and banished to the shadowrealm for all of eternity!” The Chairman jumps fifteen feet in the air, crosses his legs, and lands back in his throne. “CONTINUE!”
“Hey Andre the Midget! Yeeeah, do you really think you got what it takes ta out cook the master? I’ve been servin’ Michelin 3-star dishes since you were diapers, yeeeah. You’re NO MATCH for me! OH YEEEAAH! I’m the strongest, baddest IRON CHEF you’ll ever have the misfortune to come up against. My might can’t be matched! My meals can’t be any tastier! MY MUSSELS HAVE MUSCLES! MY CHOWDER IS LOUDER! MY SOUP OF LENTIL IS MONUMENTAL! What do you gotta say to that, yeeah?”
Macho Man Randy Savage standing there with his pythons flexed nearly to the point of bursting, the sweat and oil glistening off him makes him looks like some sort of bronzed god that has descended from Olympus to show these pathetic mortals what real ambrosia tastes like. He’s already done with his second course: Extra Spicy Slim Jims plated to look like pectoral striations and made from an anaconda that survived a fight with Ice Cube. The Macho Man certainly knew his way around the kitchen.
“Ooohhhh! What’s the matter big guy? Looks like you don’t even have your soup course done yet! You’ll be needin’ it after I knock those giant teeth out of your mouth, yeeeaah! OH YEEEAAH!” The crowd is going absolutely nuts. Andre was confused, because his soup course was done already. It was a gorgeous turtle soup made from a snapping turtle trying to survive as soup is poured into it, and they did survive. The plan was to drink the soup from a live turtle as it tries to defend itself. A truly innovative use of the secret ingredient and a playfully little dish for the judges (judge now) to enjoy.
Macho Man stings some spaghetti from his oven to his counter and bounces off of them like ropes. He grapples low at Andre and grabs an ankle. Andre is locked in! His massive body crashes to the floor and rumbles all the glassware in KITCHEN STADIUM. “OH YEEEAAH! HOW’S IT FEEL?! ONCE I GET THESE GOLDEN ARMS AROUND MY OPPENENT, THERE’S NO ESCAPE! ABANDON ALL HOPE NOW AND TAP OUT OF THIS COMPETITION! I’M IN MY PRIME, YEEEAAH! I’M AT THE PEAK OF HUMAN CONDITIONING! I AM THE-“
THHNK!
A butcher’s knife cleaves into Macho Man’s head, slicing his sunglasses and bandana clean in two. He releases his grip and sits there paralyzed but twitching. His eyes are trying to focus but can’t seem to get a lock on anything. Andre gets up to one knee and pulls out the cleaver. Blood spurts like squirts from a plastic squirt gun. Another wide swing and Macha Man Randy Savage’s head is lopped off. The Chairman leans forward into his hands. A banner falls, a soul is stolen. “Predictable… Perhaps he will not be so arrogant in the shadowrealm…” His voice, although not loud, carries into every ear at KITCHEN STADIUM. “Very good Giant, but you still have two IRON CHEFS to defeat. Cook carefully…”
DK flips an Enguarde in his pan. Salty, buttery, a little natural sweetness. An Enguarde entrée endeed would ensure a 10 on taste on the Chairman’s score card, but that was hardly DK’s concern right now. Some chump challenger not only (possibly) outcooked two IRON CHEFS, but also killed them. The Chairman consumed their power. Not wanting to be next, Donkey Kong quickly plates his fish dish with a side of sautéed broccoli rabe microgreens. It was an ideal pairing even if it somewhat lacked originality. He wipes his massive hands on a towel and walks over to Polar Bear’s station. Polar Bear was wrestling a dwarf luchador into submission for his next dish.
“Okay, [ape grunts] [ape grunts] [ape grunts] Yeah [ape grunt]? [Ape grunts] Cool [ape grunts]. Banana [confident ape grunts]” Donkey Kong adjusted his tie with a broad grin. Polar Bear snaps the neck of the luchador and looks briefly over to Andre the Giant and then back to DK. Polar Bear nods, “[Polar bear roars] [polar bear roars] [polar bear roars] [polar bear roars] [polar bear roars]”
“HEY!” Donkey Kong shouts, really putting his diaphragm into. Andre carefully places an opalized candy blood orange slice on his bald eagle soufflé and then turns his divided attention towards the ape. DK is standing completely upright with his hands on his hips, his bright red tie flowing in the wind that was mysteriously blowing through KITHCEN STADIUM. Beside him, also standing completely upright was Polar Bear with his arms crossed. He slices the cap clean off a bottle of Coke as if to make his point. Andre shakes his head and cracks his knucks. He came here to do battle, and he has not been disappointed so far.
Polar Bear and Donkey Kong approach Andre the Giant with some sort of tag team combo where they’re using each other’s bodies and momentum to propel haymakers and swipes at Andre. Against any other opponent, these would be devastating, but Andre just hangs back and rope-a-dopes those fools. Polar Bear sucks in a tremendous amount of air and blows ice breath at Andre who use a cookie sheet to deflect it at some tiger’s milk creating an ice cream as delicious as it is rare. Molto Bene! Meanwhile, Donkey Kong is charging up a giant punch. With each wind up of his massive gorilla arm, debris is pulled off the surrounding tables and from the pockets of the audience. The force is so great that Polar Bear backs off, and Andre starts to get sucked in by the whirlwind. DK keeps winding up and winks at Andre like, “GOT YA!” Andre digs his heels into the marble floors, carving out two trenches as he’s drawn closer and closer to that swinging monkey fist. Finally within range, DK unleashes his full, unadulterated, near pornographic power. Andre barely has time to make and X with his arm in front of himself to block the blow. He’s launched at Mach 2 back into his kitchen area. Thankfully, his dishes are unharmed. Before he has a chance to even catch his breath, Polar Bear is coming at him with wild bear swipes. The Kodiak Klaw, the Grizzly Grope, the Black Buster, but it was the Polar Piledriver that ends up catching Andre. Andre’s enormous skull crushes into the marble. Polar Bear backs off as DK starts winding up another giant punch.
Andre picks up an electric carving knife and throws it at DK. No luck. The knife just gets caught up in the whirlwind with everything else. Andre begins to slide slowly towards DK again. Andre grabs his 1” thick cooking twine (for when you really gotta tie something down) and ties a make shift lasso. DK is reaching his maximum power and Andre is only about ten feet away now. Polar Bear is holding on to the incredibly heavy meat locker at his station. Only six feet away now, Andre is inches away from punching range. He swings the twine above his head and ropes Polar Bear around the neck. With all his strength he jerks Polar Bear in front of him just as DK releases his most powerful attack. Caught off guard, Polar Bear absorbs the entirety of Donkey Kong’s big boy punch without even defending himself. Polar Bear is blown into oblivion.
DK smiles in triumph, but then realizes what he just did. Before he can properly analyze the situation, Andre his behind him using the twine as a makeshift garrote. DK struggles as the twine digs into his throat. In desperation, he slaps the floor really, really hard with both hands. This move cracks the marble and from the crack, a barrel pops out. The barrel rumbles with chimps sounds. Andre pulls harder, tighter. DK reaches out for the barrel, staring at it with bloodshot eyes. It’s wobbling back and forth. There’s something in there. Andre yells as he tugs even tighter. The twine begins to cut into his meaty mitts. DK’s hand is inches away from the barrel. If he could just…
Donkey Kong’s hand drops and his eyes roll into the back of his head. Andre gives the twine one last hard pull to make sure the deed is done. The distinct sound of snapped vertebrae echoes through the now silent KITCHEN STADIUM. Silent all except for the chimp hollers coming from the barrel. A sweaty Andre the Giant walks over to his station and picks up a ginormous granite plating slab (about 1500 lb). He raises it above his head and slams it down on top of the barrel, silencing it. A red baseball hat pops out from underneath the slab. Before it hits the ground, the Chairman is there to catch it. The Chairman is somehow dressed even fancier and more flamboyantly than earlier as he holds the hat in his white glove. The Chairman’s hair flows like honey, his face has smooth as a wax figurine. “Very Good!” The Chairman bows for Andre the Giant and then consumes the souls of Polar Bear, DK, and poor, poor Diddy Kong. “I was not expecting anyone to ever make it this far…” Andre is tired, but stands in a defensive stance. Suddenly, the Chairman is behind Andre sampling his appe-teaser. He wafts the aroma into his refined nostrils. “Mmm! Yes! You are truly worthy!” The Chairman flips his cape aside and samples the rest of the Giants plates. Andre stands there not knowing what to do, but not letting down his defenses. He explains each dish, what inspired it, how he did it, and the Chairman seems… satisfied, possibly impressed.
“Excellent tasted, plating, and of course originality. There is just one thing missing… YOUR SOUL!” The Chairman’s eyes turn pure white and he begins to rise into the air. Lighting is shooting off him in random directions. When they hit a pan, it’s especially scary. The crowd screams in panic. They try to escaped, but the doors are still sealed from earlier. “SILENCE!” The Chairman shouts. He sweeps his hand across the audience seating and they all pop like popcorn kernels. He lands and squares up to Andre. “You will be my most prized piece of my collection!” Andre takes a deep breath and prepares himself.
In a flash, the Chairman is in Andre the Giant’s face and slaps him right across the cheek. As Andre is still recoiling backwards, the Chairman is gone and back again, this time drop kicking Andre’s knee. Andre stumbles forward, the Chairman slap upper cuts him on his way down. In the time it takes for a perfect rue to turn into a ruined rue, Andre is on his knees and all kinds of bruised up. The Chairman continues to dance around at a barely visible speed, laughing like a mad man. Andre’s able to keep up enough to block a 10” chef’s knife with his forearm, but it was a close call. He tries to predict the dizzying movement throws a punch. His arm is caught and the Chairman judo throws Andre into the cold marble floor of KITCHEN STADIUM. He spits blood out of his mouth as he bounces off the ground, then before Andre can even process what’s happened, the Chairman drops both his knees into Andre’s gut. Using telekinesis now, The Chairman levitates the Giant and smashes him through a row of heavy cast iron pans, then throws him into the bleachers. Andre, woozy, picks up an audience member skulls and tries to take a swing at what he thought was the Chairman flying at him, when in reality it is one of the kitchen refrigerators. The fridge explodes on impact. Fruit, vegetables, eggs, and drinks fly everywhere.
“HAHAHA!” The Chairman hovers over Andre. He grabs Andre by his thick neck and tosses him like a rag doll back into the kitchen area. The massive body obliterates the workstation. Andre tries to get his eyes open and the Chairman is already there in front of him again. He feels his collar get grabbed as he leaves his feet again. The Chairman is hover about a foot off the ground with Andre held above him. Andre mustards what strength he has left to throw some punches at the Chairman. These pathetic attempts are easily swatted aside. “USELESS! USELESS! USELESS!” The Chairman screams as he grins with a sense of superiority. “YOU ARE ALL THE SAME! USELESS CREATURES ONLY PUT ON THIS EARTH FOR ME TO PLAY WITH! ANY LAST WORDS BEFORE YOU SOUL IS CONSUMED?!”
Andre coughs up some blood and bile and manages to get an eye open. He snorts and lets loose a single “Ha…” then points over the Chairman’s shoulder. Confused, the Chairman turns around just in time to see a batter and pale Ohta plunge an extra sharp steak knife into his chest. Ohta twists it, then picks up his microphone and says, “B-back to… to you Fukui-san…” Fukui-san’s skeleton’s jaw drops open. Ohta drops dead onto the ground.
The Chairman screeches an otherworldly screech. Souls flow from the open hole in his chest like water from a firehouse. He drops Andre. So many souls pour out. They swirl around the Chairman like a tormented tornado. Each one takes a shot at the Chairman before properly moving on to the afterlife. The Chairman is on all fours as his life force flees from him. His beautiful hair turns grey and brittle. His wonderful, almost magical looking, outfit rots and unravels. His baby soft, delicate looking skin shrivels up like an old piece of leather left in a dirty warehouse.
The souls of Micheal Jordan, Macho Man Randy Savage, Polar Bear, and Donkey Kong gather behind Andre the Giant. Macho Man puts his hand on Andre’s shoulder, “Yeeaahh… You’ve done it. You had the power to put an end to this nightmare that me and my fellow IRON CHEFS were living in! Now it’s time to finish him! OOOOOOHHHH YEEEEAAAHHHH!!” The spirits of Macho Man, MJ, Polar Bear, and DK combined what power they had left in the realm to place an ethereal spike on the ground. “See you in the Hall of Fame” His Airness says before all four of them blast off into the sky.
The chairman is shaking with fear. He looks up to Andre who is brooding over him. “NO! Please!” Andre the Giant says nothing. He picks up the frail husk of a man and scoop slams him right onto the spike. A final release of energy sprays out of the Chairman and fills the sky. All across Japan, sun shines over the villages, green returns to the pastures, the people snap out of their depressions, dogs bark again. Andre looks up to the heavens and all the greatest chefs in the world give him a big old thumbs up. Andre give them an even bigger thumbs up right back. He fulfilled his culinary destiny. His cuisine reigned supreme.
Submitted June 06, 2017 at 05:45PM by fudgeman http://ift.tt/2rPkOzQ WritingPrompts
No comments:
Post a Comment