I'm Still Salty About This One

I wrote the best god damn story I have ever written and my fucking English teacher gave me a 55% because it had 'too much dialogue'.

Fuck you, Mrs Smith.

“Hello, and welcome to MasterChef Couples – it’s MasterChef, but you’re all ~in love~!”

Ashlee looked at Linda and nervously twiddled her fingers. They were not dating. They barely even liked each other, but when you’re the only people in your friend group who actually know how to cook, sometimes you gotta make compromises.

Ashlee didn’t like the word ‘hate’ – it was a very negative word, and Ashlee didn’t like negative. But if she were to use the word on someone, that someone would be Linda.

Ashlee did prefer to describe their relationship differently – maybe like… “friends you haven’t made yet”? That was more positive than ‘enemies’.

But she had to team up with Linda. She had to win this.

“The prize for winning? One. Million. Dollars!”

And that was why. One million dollars. All the contestants yelled enthusiastically.

“Listen, honey,” Linda hissed through gritted teeth. “We’d better win this.”

“Sure thing,” Ashlee said. “Sweetie.”

Both wanted to win. Both wanted to win desperately. Both would literally kill the other to get the prize.

“You have. One whole hour. To cook. A three-course meal. That will beat everyone else’s. Think you’re up to it?”

One of the contestants gave a half-hearted yell. Everyone else stayed silent.

“Alright, then.” The announcer chuckled nervously. “Is everyone ready?”

Linda looked to her left to see someone burst into tears.

“On your marks. Get set. Go!”

 

“One hour! We only have one hour! How the absolute bloody Hell are we going to complete a three course meal in one hour?” Linda frantically pulled all the pots and pans out of the cupboard, oblivious to the crashing and clanging as they hit the ground.

“I don’t hecking know!” Ashlee screeched back as she tipped all the contents of a fridge into her arms. Flour. Milk. Cheese. Pepperoni. Tomatoes. Other assorted vegetables. Pizza was Ashlee's best food.

“Pepperoni?” Linda asked in disgust. “No. We can’t make anything with pepperoni on it, I’m vegan.”

“Yeah, but the judges aren’t! We’re doing pizza.” Ashlee dumped her armful onto the counter. The milk tipped off and hit the floor. The jug shattered, sending shards of glass flying and leaving a large puddle of milk on the ground. “Oh, heckerydoo, no more milk.”

“Well! We can’t use milk either! Milk! Isn’t! Vegan!” Linda grabbed a bowl from the floor and dropped all the tomatoes in.

“We can’t use it anyway! It’s all over the floor!”

Linda washed her hands and started punching the tomatoes.

“What are you doing???” Ashlee tipped flour all over the counter as she watched Linda beat the life out of those poor, poor tomatoes.

“I- promise- you-“ Linda stopped to punch the tomatoes harder. “This- is- the- best- way- to- make- tomato- paste.”

Ashlee screeched and pulled the bowl from Linda. “No! You have to do it like this.” She took an electric mixer and rammed it into the bowl. Bits and pieces of tomato flew everywhere, splattering onto every plate and every surface of the room. Other contestants shot dirty looks at Ashlee as she massacred the tomatoes. “Alright, can you add some basil to that?” She handed the bowl back to Linda. Linda grabbed the nearest herb, made direct eye contact with Ashlee, and tipped the entire package in.

“That’s mint, you- you fudging sillyhead! I mean- honey!”

Linda continued to stare directly at Ashlee and mixed it in. Ashlee took a deep breath in and tried to ignore the absolute destruction of cuisine. Instead, she would just focus on the dough. Focus on the dough, Ashlee, focus on the dough.

Linda dropped the ‘tomato paste’ on the counter and grabbed the sugar.

Focus. On. The. Dough.

 

Linda awkwardly stepped over the intern who had been tasked with cleaning up the mess on the floor. She wanted this money, and even if she only got half of it, she would get it. Even if it meant cooperating with Ashlee. And Ashlee was making dinner, so the next in importance would probably be dessert. Which meant she was going to be making it.

She didn’t have much time, about fifty minutes, so she would probably have to make some compromises, but she could make a decent apple pie in that time. She was sure of it.

Sugar. Butter. Milk. Linda poured equal amounts of all three into her pastry. Just the way her mother taught her. She mixed them all together. Hmm. It was a little wetter and stickier than she remembered it would be.

…Probably just needed a little time in the fridge, that’s all. Linda placed the dough in the fridge and went to chop some apples.

 

Ashlee spread the pizza dough out on the counter. This was going well. This was going well. This was going well, this was going well, this was going well, this was going well. Ha ha. Ha ha ha. Everything was fine.

She took a spoonful of the tomato abomination and spread it all over the pizza.

Then ham. Pineapple. Basil, actual basil. Pepperoni, because she wanted to spite Linda. Cheese.

Jeez. She hoped this would be enough to impress the judges.

 

Alright. Alright. Alllllright. Thirty minutes left. Usually that wouldn’t be enough, but Linda knew how ovens worked. All you had to do was to make it way hotter than it was meant to be, and it would cook faster. Say, about 300 Celsius.

Wow, that was high. Her home oven wouldn’t even go that high.

Linda placed the apple pie in and dusted off her hands. Time to make the entrée.

 

Ashlee slid the pizza into the oven. As much as this was going really badly, and as much as she hated Linda, she did know how to cook, and so she trusted Linda’s judgement in oven temperature.

This was a good pizza. This was a good pizza that could win Ashlee the money to start her own restaurant. Who knows? Maybe the judges would like the mint in the tomato sauce. Ashlee was good at making pizza. They could still do this, they could still win. Now all they had to do was-

“Linda! No!”

Linda was frying onions in the pan.

“That’s not how you make vegetable dip!”

Ashlee tipped the fried onions into the same bowl as the tomato paste and just blended it all together again.

Linda shielded her eyes from the vegetable bits going everywhere.

 

“I’m so glad we’ve finally finished everything.” Linda smiled and nodded at Ashlee. “All we have to do is wait for it to cook.”

“Yeah!” Ashlee put her hand up. “High five!”

Linda’s smile turned to a grimace. She stared at Ashlee’s hand and slowly shook her head.

Ashlee put her hand down. Linda nodded.

They stayed there like that, just smiling and nodding until Linda stopped smiling and froze.

“I forgot the flour!” Linda screamed.

She looked over to the oven, where the pie had just begun to combust.

“Why is the oven on so high?” Ashlee screamed as the pizza also began to combust.

Linda ran to the oven and grabbed the apple pie. She pulled it out and ran over to the counter. “No, no, it may be on fire but I can still save this, I’m good at cooking, it’s new taste-“ Her foot slid from under her. The pie jumped from her hands, flying over the “wet floor” sign from where the milk had been earlier, landing straight onto the jacket of a judge. The jacket ignited.

The judge looked over and ran to get the fire extinguisher, but the flames were already spreading, from the jacket to one of the poles to the roof and-

Fire alarms blared. Smoke filled the room.

“Everyone get to the exit!”

“Oh, bugger,” said Linda.

“Sugar-honey-iced-tea.” Ashlee looked at Linda, then to the cash stack that had yet to be reached by the flames. “Linda.”

Linda followed Ashlee’s gaze to the cash,

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Linda’s mouth dropped open. She nodded.

Ashlee and Linda ran to the cash stack and grabbed as much of it as they could. Shoving it into pockets, down shirts and pants, holding it in their hands.

Together they ran out of the burning building with the cash reward stashed on them.