Soupaw's Kitchen...
When searching for fine food, Soupaw's Soup
Shack was the place to go. The owner, Soupaw, served all kinds of exotic
foods on request. He was so masterful in his art that he could turn vegetarian
Jubjubs into ravenous carnivores and mean, hungry Grarrls into broccoli munchers
(depending on the food he made.) He had created almost every kind of culinary
delight in existence; from tall stacks hotcakes to screaming-in-the-pot lobster.
Salad and salt flew through the air whenever he got near a kitchen, and even
when he went to restaurants other than his own he couldn't resist correcting
the chefs.
Soupaw was only truly happy when making soups
and stews. He found nothing more satisfying than a delicious batch of leek soup,
asparagus stew, and home-styled delicious gumbo.
But the valiant chef was facing hard times.
Low demands for restaurant food in Lupe Forest because of the Acara Burger (purchased
by multibillionaire Phil the Chia) installed nearby had sliced his budget to
bits. Slowly, he watched his beautiful, tasteful snacks die away to third-rate
ingredients and sluggish supplies.
Few customers visited him, and from his last
bank visit, he could see it would take at least 300,000 NP to pull himself out
of his slump, an amount not to be sneezed at by any of the Lupe Forest Lupes.
Things weren't looking too hot in the oven.
Well, except for his bread, which was burning
to a crisp. Soupaw panicked, hurling open the oven and snatching the bread out,
tossing it from purple paw to paw until laying it on a breadboard. Sweat beaded
off his forehead as he looked out at the howling blizzard, his rather rotund
stomach shutting the oven door for him. He sat down in a chair, taking off his
apron and tipping his white hat over his face.
"Ugh...it is being a horrible day for the
business...just like yesterday was being. You'd think Hot Soup in this weather
would attract people, but they'd prefer to get so-called delicious 'Acara Fried
Chicken,' or 'Won Ton Whatever!' Hum, there just is not being any room in this
haywire-being economy for the humble soup makers like myself is being!"
As he fanned off the bread with his rather
chubby paws, a velvety voice whispered into his ear, appearing from nowhere.
"All too true, dear Soupaw...It's hard to
find good food these days, isn't it? Of course, if your food is half as bad
as your accent, I'll probably die from it..."
The Lupe chef nearly leapt ten feet into the
air at the sound of the oily voice behind him. He turned around, whipping a
sharp-teethed bread knife through the air until it whistled, prepared to face
any foe. But instead of Dr. Sloth, the Pant Devil, or the Shadow Usul, as he
expected, all he saw was the other side of his kitchen, just as it had been
when he had looked before. He whirled around again and again to see the same
scenery --his frying pans hanging on the wall, the oven still steaming from
the burnt bread, his dripping sink, the door to his produce closet, the slightly
open window which he was certain he had closed--
There was a clanking noise from above, and
his head immediately snapped upwards, probably half expecting the spider Grundo
descend on him to ensure his doom bundled up in a silky web, but seeing only
the ceiling fan, which he had disabled for the winter. Clunks from below made
his head jerk down, perhaps to see the bug brothers sneaking off with his hard-earned
Neopoints. Instead, a tiny cockroach scuttled across his foot. Soupaw raised
it up and stamped twice, cursing silently. No good chef would let insects run
about his kitchen freely, nor unwelcome thieves.
A small ringing from his doorway made his
head look up, but it was only the little bell that announced visitors. Except
that there was nobody coming in. Nervously, Soupaw held the bread-slicing knife
in both paws, his entire blubbery form quaking in fear as his wide eyes darted
around the room.
"Being showing yourself, thief! I will b-b-b-be
being dicing you into s-s-s-s-soufflé!"
Suddenly, the velvety voice dripped into his
ear again.
"I am showing myself, Soupaw. Take a gander
behind you...
one
more
time..."
Soupaw dropped the knife, where it sank into
the floor, quivering slightly. His eyes squinted as he moved his foot over and
pivoted around. This time, to see a scrawny green Lupe with a devious smirk
and an odd glint in his yellow eyes, sampling the burnt bread with a sour look
on his sunken features.
"GAAAH!!"
Soupaw stumbled backwards in horror, tripping
over the knife. It bent backwards, the flexible blade shooting forward with
a musical twang as he tumbled to the floor, making the entire restaurant shake.
His paws groped into his apron pockets, for something, anything to help him.
But the green Lupe's paw stepped down onto his fingers, pinning them painfully
into his pockets. Black crumbs dripped from his whiskers as he leaned over the
floored Lupe, his gleaming eyes flashing as he licked the crumbs off and smacked
his lips. Never once did he blink.
Like any sensible Lupe Forest Lupe in his
position would do, Soupaw panicked.
"It's...you're...I'M...BUT..."
"Lector Hanniblepaw, at your service...but
you can call me starved."
The Lupe plucked the knife from the floor, running his finger over the toothed
edge. The jagged points over his tough, callused paws made a sound like a zipper.
Grinning and peering back down, he let it dangle point down from his paw, where
it swung back and forth for a an agonising moment before dropping from his paws.
It clipped off the tip of Soupaw's ear as it thunked back into the ground. Soupaw
could hear and feel it quiver quite well, and a whimper escaped his equally
quivering lips.
Hanniblepaw simply stared, then began to speak
again.
"Your bread is dryer than Sahkmet and twice
as sandy, and the burnt bits certainly don't add to its flavor...however, I
tried your meat-lover's stew while you were babbling something about soufflé,
and, I must say, found it to be quite appetising...of course, that could be
my meat-toothed base, but I'm sure you've heard all about that..."
His voice was deep and velvety, something
like the hiss a snake and the purring of a cat. He paused for long periods of
time after speaking, allowing everything he said to sink into the already deeply
traumatised Soupaw's cowardly mind and causing it more trouble. A simple food
critique became a matter of life and death.
Soupaw gulped. Lector was an infamous cannibal,
famous for devouring dozens upon dozens of Chias, Jubjubs, and Kacheeks, although
he was sometimes known to pluck a few Usuls and Pteri off the trees. In short,
he was a very, very, dangerous Lupe
Hanniblepaw shrugged, shaking the last of
the crumbs off before stepping back, his sharp gaze turning out the window.
"Ah, but I dawdle, dear friend...let's get
right to business. I've heard from a friend that you're a great chef, which
is why I've come here today."
"That is being...er...nice..." Soupaw wheezed,
reaching for the counter side to support his massive weight as he tried to climb
upright.
"First, I'd like to discuss a few things with
you. Just so I can learn more about you, and how
you...
...
tick..."
The odd green Lupe pulled a silver spoon from
the table and sampled a bit of chili, smacking his lips.
"Good, good, good. I admire this."
He dropped the spoon into the chilli, dusting
off his paws and daintily dabbing his whiskers with a napkin. After that was
done, his gaze turned back onto Soupaw, who had pulled himself off the ground
and was reaching for another piece of cutlery. The gaze stopped him dead in
his tracks, and he turned around, shaking with fury and fear.
"Now, tell me, do you happen to know any Chias?"
Soupaw's expression lightened slightly as
he spoke, but he still stuttered nervously on every other word.
"Oh, well of c-c-c-course! I was being b-b-b-building
my shop right near the F-F-Furgleton highway, so I am being occasionally g-g-g-getting
a few customers b-b-b-being of th-th-that sort in here. But I have been being
getting f-f-f-fierce competition from the Acara B-b-b-burger down the road.
People would r-r-r-rather pay more for a burger being made out of the who-knows-what
than for a piece de resistance being of soup with all the dressings at the best
price since s-s-s-ssssliced blead...eh, Breh-he-he-hed! Please excuse the a-a-a-accent
and the stutter, no? I s-t-t-t-t-t-t-tutter when I get nervous."
"Ah, I understand your situation, dear friend.
Being a gourmand myself, I know what it's like for horrible excuses of restaurants
being run. I have very,
very,
refined
tastes..."
"Would you please being stopping pausing like
that? It is not being the proper English..."
Hanniblepaw's eyes flashed and Soupaw winced
as he plucked the knife off the counter, the sunlight gleaming off the sharply
pointed tip.
"I repeat...VERY refined...Which is why I
am here today..."
"R-r-really now?!" Soupaw stuttered, feeling
a heart attack coming on.
"Listen, and listen closely, my horrendously
obese companion..."
Hanniblepaw stepped forward, a nasty smile
on his face as he raked the knife across the freshly cleaned plates. A screeching
noise issued forth, and Soupaw covered his ear (and slightly shortened ear)
until he lifted the tip and stopped.
"Have you heard of a dish called Chia Dumplings
in Cobrall Stew? Delicious..."
Soupaw gasped.
"No culinary arteest who is being a culinary
arteest has not never been being not (forgive me)...knowing of that dish!! But
it is being outlawed in every single country in thee Neopia!"
"Ah...well, 'outlawed' is such an ugly name
for it, don't you think? Why don't we just call it..."
Hanniblepaw thought for a moment until the
right word crept onto his lips and sprayed forth from his slightly chalky tongue.
"Naughty?"
"NAUGHTY!? Sacre Bleau! I can be being getting
the prison time for the unezical...Un-EH-thee-cahl...treatment of petpet AND
pet!! I could be being losing my career, my reputation!"
"What reputation might that 'be being', pray
tell? It doesn't seem like too many people have ever tasted your cooking, friend..."
Soupaw's mouth fell open for a moment, then
collapsed shut, and then angrily flew open again, his paw flying up and gesturing
to accentuate his words.
"Now, being listening here, Green Bean, I
know when I am being the insulted, and I know where to be being draw the line!
You are NOT going to be being getting a single bowl of Cobrall Soup or a single
Chia Dumpling out of me, and there is NOTHING you can be being doing or saying
to b-be-be-buh-beeeeeing making me change my mind!"
Hanniblepaw sighed, jamming the knife into
an electric sharpener nearby. The resulting screech was enough to send the fat
Lupe tumbling back onto the floor, where he started to weep piteously.
"Yessir! I s-suh-suh-suh-surrender!!! One
Cobrall Stew with the Ch-ch-ch-chia Dumplings coming up! I'll just be being
finding you a fuh-fuh-fuh-fresh chia and bag one or two co-co-co-cobralls to
stew for you! Would you like them to be being diced, puréed, or just ch-chu-chuh-chucked
in alive ala lobster?"
"Hm...
...
Alive
Would
Be
...
Nice.
Oh, I can't wait around long either, so could
you please have it here by
nightfall?
I have some...
Business...
To attend
to till then."
In the ever-so-private corridors of his mind,
Soupaw cursed Hanniblepaw's terrible spacing. Sure, it worked fine in poetry,
but not right in the middle of a story!
Outside, he cracked an extremely unstable
smile, which snapped out from under him like a bridge and collapsed into the
ruins of a frown.
"Righto! Thanks again for your business! Please
come again!"
He covered his mouth.
"WAIT!!! I didn't wasn't being trying to be
being meaning that!!"
The green Lupe gave him one last snakish grin
before slithering out the door. Soupaw watched as he turned around to face the
glass door's window. His sour breath paired with the cool winter air quickly
steamed up the glass. Hanniblepaw wrote something into the foggy breath with
his paw before turning and finally fading away.
Soupaw rolled back onto his rather stubby
legs and almost bounced to the door to read the message. It had been written
backwards by the clever Hanniblepaw, and he could clearly read it from within.
"FAIL ME AND I CANNOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE
FOR MY ACTIONS..."
Soupaw read aloud. He thought for a moment,
then slapped his forehead.
"HEY!! I just cleaned this window!"
He grumbled, popping open the door and using
his chef's hat to wipe off the threatening message before getting back into
his kitchen, inspecting the knife marks in the floor and scratching his head,
as if he was just waking from a dream.
"Hm...where can I be being getting a chia
and a Cobrall at this hour? Ah, well, desperate times are being calling for
the desperate measures!"
He waddled over into the lobby and plucked
his gleaming black telephone off the hook, flipped open his phone book.
"Hm...Chia, chia, chia...AHA!! Here we go!
Alexander T..."
To be continued... | 
