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I heard the TV turn off just as I shuffled in through the door. As I came down the stairs, Darth Nukus was just lifting his gaze up (in that ponderously malign way of his) from A Feast of Fear, or Cooking With The Dark Side, by Julia Child. "Welcome home, my young apprentice."
"I keep telling you, you can start calling me 'young apprentice' if you somehow land me a full-time job in a four-star restaurant."
"Soon, yes, heh heh heh. Very soon."
I rolled my eyes and collapsed on the bead, groaning. "And what were you doing? Watching Sith Vixens again?"
"... It's research."
"Uh-huh." I sighed and rubbed my head.
"Don't tell me you're sick again?"
"Mall Crud, or something. All those people... all those unwashed masses... all those germs." He muttered something about 'midichlorians' that I pretended to not hear. "Anyway, it was as exhausting a day as it was busy. Frustrating at times."
"I've told you time and time again, my apprentice. Use your frustration and anger, as a pasta chef would use a collander. Use it like a pastry chef would wield the frosting tube. Use it --"
"Just what the hell kind of Sith are you, anyway?"
"The Dark Side takes many forms. Chocolate is one."
"Can't you go and corrupt Emeril or someone like that?"
Oh, but he was on a roll, now. "Do you truly believe that a Jedi Culinarian would 'kick it up a notch?' Foolish apprentice, you have much to learn of the ways of the Kitchen!"
"... Wait. You're saying that Emeril is already Sith?"
"Corrupted him myself. Iron Chef Korriban, right here, baby!"
I didn't want to pursue that line of conversation, so I just rolled over and tried to get some sleep. Nukus studied me for a few long moments -- I could feel his eyes on me, yeech -- before in a swirl of robes he went to the kitchen....
* * *
"You know, I honestly didn't think you had it in you. This is pretty good chicken soup."
"Why, thank you."
"Uh... it is chicken, right?"
"... It walked on two legs and clucked, at some undefined point in the unspecified past, if that's what you're asking. Yes. It's chicken."
"..."
"Eat your soup. It's getting cold."
"I keep telling you, you can start calling me 'young apprentice' if you somehow land me a full-time job in a four-star restaurant."
"Soon, yes, heh heh heh. Very soon."
I rolled my eyes and collapsed on the bead, groaning. "And what were you doing? Watching Sith Vixens again?"
"... It's research."
"Uh-huh." I sighed and rubbed my head.
"Don't tell me you're sick again?"
"Mall Crud, or something. All those people... all those unwashed masses... all those germs." He muttered something about 'midichlorians' that I pretended to not hear. "Anyway, it was as exhausting a day as it was busy. Frustrating at times."
"I've told you time and time again, my apprentice. Use your frustration and anger, as a pasta chef would use a collander. Use it like a pastry chef would wield the frosting tube. Use it --"
"Just what the hell kind of Sith are you, anyway?"
"The Dark Side takes many forms. Chocolate is one."
"Can't you go and corrupt Emeril or someone like that?"
Oh, but he was on a roll, now. "Do you truly believe that a Jedi Culinarian would 'kick it up a notch?' Foolish apprentice, you have much to learn of the ways of the Kitchen!"
"... Wait. You're saying that Emeril is already Sith?"
"Corrupted him myself. Iron Chef Korriban, right here, baby!"
I didn't want to pursue that line of conversation, so I just rolled over and tried to get some sleep. Nukus studied me for a few long moments -- I could feel his eyes on me, yeech -- before in a swirl of robes he went to the kitchen....
* * *
"You know, I honestly didn't think you had it in you. This is pretty good chicken soup."
"Why, thank you."
"Uh... it is chicken, right?"
"... It walked on two legs and clucked, at some undefined point in the unspecified past, if that's what you're asking. Yes. It's chicken."
"..."
"Eat your soup. It's getting cold."
