CHAPTER FORTY TWO: Bette Meet Chester, Chester Meet Bette

THE ART OF EATING INSTANT FOOD / MICROWAVEABLE MEALS FOR FIRST-TIMERS AND PICKY EATERS (or just spoiled brats with snobby taste buds and delicate stomachs):

SCENARIO #12 – DINNER CHARADE: When you have guests that you are trying to impress

STEP 1: Look at the food and smile. Do NOT grimace or pull a face. Nothing will give your discomfort away faster than a sour expression. A healthy imagination might help, think of it as a gourmet meal.

STEP 2: With your spoon/fork/chopsticks/hands, gingerly stuff your mouth with the dish. Don’t be too sluggish or act too enthusiastic when doing this, it is always best to behave as normally as possible. Although it might be hard, intake a large amount at one time, thereby making the entire torture process end faster.

STEP 3: Chew. It is imperative that you don’t blanch. Use your teeth, ignore your tongue (specifically your taste buds) and just chew.. chew.. and chew.

STEP 4: Swallow. Use water or any other drink if necessary. You must keep in mind to be extra careful and not choke or spew everything out if ever you start gagging or coughing.

STEP 5: Again, smile. Think of happy thoughts. If you have the strength to do it, close your eyes and/or moan in fake pleasure. But be careful, do NOT overdo it. Your guests might think that you are getting off right in front of them.

STEP 6: Repeat. Go back to Step 1 and do everything all over again until your plate is cleared. If you have a dog, feed him/her small portions from time to time to ease your load. If not, suck it up and finish the dish yourself. Who knows, you might come to enjoy it.

That’s it dear picky eater! Good luck.

At this very moment, Bette Porter would kill for a copy of such a handy survival guide. But alas, the literary work was only published inside of her panicking, and slightly delusional mind. As she sat on her ratty and unstable wooden dining chair, she looked at the two happy and totally relaxed blondes before her and forced a weary smile. She looked at the way that they wolfed down the meal that she had meticulously microwaved and sighed, wishing that she had the same love for hot and spicy oriental-flavored instant noodles that her guests seemed to possess. Recalling just how she had prepared their dinner, she rolled her eyes in annoyance; angry at herself for botching up what was supposed to be a perfect night of prime ribs and mashed potatoes with the Kennards. Glancing briefly at the kitchen, her lips formed a tight line when she laid eyes on the thick slab of massacred meat that was thawing near the sink. She was supposed to cook tonight, but her own inability to do such simple culinary things like turn on the oven and marinade meat proved to be her downfall. She looked down at her bowl of wet noodles and scoffed in the most discrete way as possible. Anything that can be “cooked” by just removing a sleeve, piercing it with a fork, adding water and heating in a microwave was not real food in her opinion. She felt like she had just cheated the whole cooking process, disrespected the intricate culinary arts. And the snob in her found this to be quite unacceptable; convenient yeah, but unacceptable nonetheless. Antoine, in his proud chef’s uniform, would be throwing a fit if he found out, probably considering her act to be a grave insult to his profession. But she had to hide her disdain from her unsuspecting guests, after all, she wanted to make a good impression. She already failed with dinner, so it wouldn’t hurt to keep up a false pretense that serving instant noodles was part of her plans for tonight.