Cooking with Aleister Crowley (The Timmie edition)
"Welcome to Cooking with Crowley. I am Uncle Al. I am brilliant. You're not. Today, we will be cooking Blackened Dogfish. My assistant today is Timmie!"
Timmie waves to the studio audience. Timmie is wearing an eye-patch over one eye, the result of a recent encounter with the New Egyptian Astronaut Services. The studio audience erupts in applause which makes Timmie wave more.
"Here we have our dogfish, fresh from the banks of the Nile. Crowley, how do you get fresh dogfish? Answer: My claim and grace. I am charming and sexy, and you're not. That and the customs official said that she would let me have the fish if I would put my wand away."
The audience erupts in applause. It is only natural for the audience to applaud the master chef's great wit. The sign held up by the stage hand--"Applaud, or he will beat me"--has nothing to do with the cheering.
Timmie asks something. Exactly what is unclear, for Timmie has an accent and has started to speak in the New Egyptian form of Esperanto. But in all fairness, no one understood Timmie before he got his astro-brain-implant.
"Oh, good question Timmie. Dogfish is the finest fish known to mankind. The rumors that it will cause your hands to become webbed and your eyes to become two dead pools of nothing--they are just rumors."
Timmie says something.
"There is no call for that type of language. Now for the secret spices. I prefer to use Doctor Dee's Extreme Enochian Pepper Sauce. Dee's pepper sauce is perfect for peeling wallpaper. . . in your neighbor's house. Teach them to badmouth me. And now for the cooking. Time for the secret ingredient."
A five gallon can of gasoline is held out to Timmie by the utilization of a ten foot pole.
"Timmie--will you do the honors?"
Timmie replies with a long winded answer.
"Oh, it is perfectly safe. I have done this dozens of times, and have never been hurt. Quit being a candy-ass. Just get right up to the fish, and pour it on. Don't worry about your clothes--a little gasoline won't hurt them. That's it. Pour it all on. Now for the heat!"
Someone tosses Timmie a lit torch.
"Go on. Don't be a chicken. This is not Golden Dawn. We are not wimps."
The fireball clears out the Fox 31 Denver studio and part of the surrounding neighborhood. But don't worry--Timmie will survive. Timmie can survive anything. And if he doesn't--it doesn't matter. After all, he is just a clone. What matters is that Crowley is brilliant and the fish is delicious.
Timmie waves to the studio audience. Timmie is wearing an eye-patch over one eye, the result of a recent encounter with the New Egyptian Astronaut Services. The studio audience erupts in applause which makes Timmie wave more.
"Here we have our dogfish, fresh from the banks of the Nile. Crowley, how do you get fresh dogfish? Answer: My claim and grace. I am charming and sexy, and you're not. That and the customs official said that she would let me have the fish if I would put my wand away."
The audience erupts in applause. It is only natural for the audience to applaud the master chef's great wit. The sign held up by the stage hand--"Applaud, or he will beat me"--has nothing to do with the cheering.
Timmie asks something. Exactly what is unclear, for Timmie has an accent and has started to speak in the New Egyptian form of Esperanto. But in all fairness, no one understood Timmie before he got his astro-brain-implant.
"Oh, good question Timmie. Dogfish is the finest fish known to mankind. The rumors that it will cause your hands to become webbed and your eyes to become two dead pools of nothing--they are just rumors."
Timmie says something.
"There is no call for that type of language. Now for the secret spices. I prefer to use Doctor Dee's Extreme Enochian Pepper Sauce. Dee's pepper sauce is perfect for peeling wallpaper. . . in your neighbor's house. Teach them to badmouth me. And now for the cooking. Time for the secret ingredient."
A five gallon can of gasoline is held out to Timmie by the utilization of a ten foot pole.
"Timmie--will you do the honors?"
Timmie replies with a long winded answer.
"Oh, it is perfectly safe. I have done this dozens of times, and have never been hurt. Quit being a candy-ass. Just get right up to the fish, and pour it on. Don't worry about your clothes--a little gasoline won't hurt them. That's it. Pour it all on. Now for the heat!"
Someone tosses Timmie a lit torch.
"Go on. Don't be a chicken. This is not Golden Dawn. We are not wimps."
The fireball clears out the Fox 31 Denver studio and part of the surrounding neighborhood. But don't worry--Timmie will survive. Timmie can survive anything. And if he doesn't--it doesn't matter. After all, he is just a clone. What matters is that Crowley is brilliant and the fish is delicious.
 |
| Ain't this better than Cooking with the Swedish Chef? |
Comments
Post a Comment