Work Text:
download:
MP3 (8.2MB)
M4B (5MB)
stream: (8min:50sec)
[Jessica Think speaks. She is very perky. Desert Bluff theme music begins.]
Dear listeners, this is Jessica Think, founder of Strex Corp. I hope you join us tonight for our very first Strex-corp sponsored show, Home Cookin' with Granny. If you like it, give us a call and a few bits of your soul! You won't miss them, and we can only continue to offer the high-quality programming that lets us whistle while we work thanks to the contributions of listeners like you.
[Desert Bluff theme music ends.]
[Wednesday Addams. She is not perky.]
Hello, Desert Bluffs. I am Wednesday Addams, and today I will guide you through making stew just like my Granny used to make. It was delicious, yum yum. Assemble—
[In background, Jessica Think: But Wednesday, think of the kittens! Kittens: mew mrrr.]
[Wednesday attempts to be full of sunshine] Yes, listeners, we must always think of the kittens. The cute, adorable, fluffy kittens. The kittens that are in the studio with me, assaulting me with their… cuteness.
Assemble the ingredients, all of which can be purchased at the Strex Corp store on Main Street. You will need:
1 sip of cyanide [kittens: mrow mew] or substitute 5 almonds (wild for the best taste)
2 foxglove flowers
3 bay leaves
4 finger bones with marrow
5 thumb bones, no marrow (for the most sophisticated flavor profile, all bones should come from the same hand)
6 tentacles from a noxious night-dweller
and
7 glugs of chthonic secretions (Erika, you are not classified chthonic by the venerable Culinary Guide. However, #########, you are.)
Add a dash of baking soda, a splash of vinegar, and three blueberries for texture.
[kittens: mrrrrrow mrrrrrrow]
[Wednesday speaks through clenched teeth] We endorse placing all ingredients on a Strex Corp. countertop, guaranteed not to absorb a single drop of blood when you line up your raw ingredients. You won't lose a bit of your day's recommended allowance of iron and sulfur! $199.99 or an offering of two souls, full satisfaction or your money back (souls are non-refundable).
Having procured the ingredients, let us tenderize the tentacles. [thudding sounds] I use a mace my Uncle Georgianna bequeathed to me. Helena, your aunt's hammer has some traces that will cause an explosion in conjunction with the chthonic secretions. [kittens: mrow mrow] But we believe in safety first and only seek explosions of flavor. Don't use it.
Once you have prepared the tentacles, [knife on cutting board; squelchy noises] slice them into pieces no thicker than your eyeball. Yes, yours. If you haven't poked out your eye running with scissors, do it now and know that I would pity your lack of childhood if I ever formed an emotional attachment to you.
Decant the glugs of chthonic secretions into your baby-sized cooking pot. Bring to a rolling simmer, until the fog wafts up and intoxicates you, taking you by the hand and leading you down into the underworld. Psychopomps are infallible, trustworthy guides. [kittens: MRAOW]
Gently place a single slice of tentacle in the simmering chthonic secretions. If it sublimates into a bright green gas it has evolved to a state of readiness. That burning sensation in your throat is normal. Curie, wear safety glasses so that Kevin does not whine about your violet orbs becoming cloudy during the next staff meeting.
With your bare fingers place the slices of tentacles, one at a time, at the bottom of the pot. Allow the sting to flavor the stew; without it, each sip could not conjure up the agony of the deepest, darkest, most loathsome tortures, the grotesque sensation of slipping behind the veil and being brought back into the light. [kittens: MRAOOOWW] Always wear sunglasses when you're brought into the light; the sun smiles upon us all, but that is no reason to dilute your value by not to taking proper care of your corporeal elements.
Once the tentacles have joined the chthonic secretions, you must finish the stew by the time the cock crows. [kittens: hiss] If you don't immediately remove all copper from your body and the immediate environs, a transdimensional portal will form. That would be bad. **********, Strex Corp is happy to furnish you with a replacement copper-core stock pot from Strex Store. Interest rates on your delayed payment will be reasonable until you find your way back from the Otherworld.
Let the tentacles steep and bubble long enough to play two games of bowl-a-skull. If your opponent cheats, decapitate him and use his skull as a game piece; he'll never do it again.
While the tentacles are infusing the stew with their essence, crush the finger and thumb bones into a fine powder or paste, depending on the quality of your marrow. If you use the skull from your bowl-a-skull game as a mortar, make sure that you've removed all traces of lint from the carpet. No, Miriam McDaniel, this will not stop the skull from your yellow-eyed head from re-attaching after dinner.
With a rowan spoon, stir the stew in the pattern of the sigil of Glaaki. [kittens: hiss HIIISSSSSS] However, we no longer worship heathen gods or invoke their primitive, infantile powers, and I recommend using a simple figure eight pattern instead. While stirring, slowly add in the bone until a gelatinous mass begins forming. Smack any errant questing tentacles with the spoon unless you wish to encourage their behavior.
Crush the bay leaves with your bare hands over the bubbling pot. Masticate the foxglove until it is bruised but not shredded. Add the foxglove to the stew, then stir. If you integrate the bay leaves without the foxglove, an adverse reaction may occur. Oh, dear.
[In background, Jessica Think: Wednesday? Wednesday, what are you doing? Ahhhhhhhhhh. Stew: glub, bubble bubble bubble, glub.]
Then you push the person who annoys you most into the pot. That's the secret ingredient, which my mother always says adds a certain je ne sais pas. "After all," quoth she, "we're Addamses."
Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc.
[Addams family closing theme]