scarlettina (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scarlettina) wrote2012-11-23 08:20 am
scarlettina) wrote2012-11-23 08:20 am
The Scrubbing
In a world where turkeys are massacred once a year to satiate the appetites of millions . . . where pots, pans, and implements of preparation rend the flesh that those millions will consume, the greatest horror yet waits in the night.
When morning comes in the wake of the Great Consumption, those millions awake to the final devastation: kitchens everywhere . . . piled with cookery yet unclean. They prepare themselves, resolutely strapping on aprons and approaching their sinks with mouths set and shoulders squared to face . . . The Scrubbing.
This, my friends, is the morning that awaits me. I don't actually have a lot to scrub, as I washed up the remains of the dish I prepared yesterday, but I left one or two things to soak overnight. It shouldn't be that bad. Nevertheless, I too will resolutely strap on my apron because, on the morning after, the price must be paid.)
When morning comes in the wake of the Great Consumption, those millions awake to the final devastation: kitchens everywhere . . . piled with cookery yet unclean. They prepare themselves, resolutely strapping on aprons and approaching their sinks with mouths set and shoulders squared to face . . . The Scrubbing.
This, my friends, is the morning that awaits me. I don't actually have a lot to scrub, as I washed up the remains of the dish I prepared yesterday, but I left one or two things to soak overnight. It shouldn't be that bad. Nevertheless, I too will resolutely strap on my apron because, on the morning after, the price must be paid.)
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