Kitchen

cut to the middle of another of one of Garnet's long-ago adventures...

Curtain rises on Act Three.

A member of the Kitchen Stadium audience rises abruptly to her feet, a look of distaste on her face. She is not repelled by the sight of squirrel brains and eggs, but rather by the squeamishness of the chefs! One has buzzed off, and the other is in the wings purging his guts out. And the guy who lept on stage and shoved squirrel brains in his mouth turned out not to be a chef at all, and was escorted out by security.

"Is there no one left to do battle?" she cries in despair.

She scans the stadium and sees only blank, dazed looks, as if everyone's brain is already infected with prions. Decisively, defiantly, she rises- her tall figure striding down the aisle to the nearest kitchen station. She grabs an apron, and reaching into her pocket for an elastic, she ties her long hair back. The fact that she has never cooked with squirrel brains, never stood in the business end of Kitchen Stadium, only seems to make the challenge more exciting to her.

She grabs a vessel and scoops up squirrel brains. She motions to the nearest assistant cook and, shaking him out of his stupor, whispers commands to him. A similar scene takes place after she has selected the choicest eggs and commandeered another assistant. As she works quickly- slicing, chopping, sauteing, frying, mixing, all while vigorously directing the assistants, Kitchen Stadium comes alive once more. The commentators start their banter, slowly at first, but growing more enlivened by the minute. The audience stirs, and in no time they are actively rooting for this bold and mysterious new chef.

When the hour is up, she proudly presents her culinary creations to the admiring audience: Pate of squirrel brains on rice crackers, stir fried squirrel brains with brown rice and tofu, a savory squirrel brain stew with dumplings, and for dessert, a Squirrel Swirl Sundae.

HEY! WHERE DID THE JUDGES GO? No one wants to taste these gourmet delights? Inconceivable!
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