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Hal is an unlikely choice for COR Chef (CC), having fed for most the last twelve years on sub-shop subs and corporate snack foods consumed amid some sort of motion, such as fleeing from elderly Chinese ladies about the size of a standard fire hydrant who seem to carry their life's belongings in enormous twin paper shopping bags hunched over wearing coats, their legs seeming to like scuttle with an insectile fervor which all makes him (Hal) believe that the Orientoid religion prohibits banks and/or storage of any kind, pertaining to some zen philosophy about never owning more than you can carry on your back as a means to be free like a hawk in the wind but nevertheless he has never eaten broccoli or like a pear until last year. As CC, he offers up routines of: boiled hot dogs; dense damp meat loaf with little pieces of American cheese and 3/4 box of cornflakes on top, for texture; cream of chicken soup over spirochete-shaped noodles; ominously dark, leathery Shake N' Bake chicken legs; and hamburger-sauce spaghetti whose pasta he boils for like an hour. Only jennypie would dare make a crack or even like a critical comment towards the cooking, which is served still in the broad steaming pans it was cooked in, Hal's giant wrinkled face hovering languidly over it like an elderly man whose ingested far too much marijuana smoke and is thrusting over a teenage girl who has also inhaled dubious amounts of smoke containing THC along with drinking various liquors with variously colored pills of different shapes and sizes dissolved into them, most likely plopped in the plastic cup when she wasn't looking and ingested without her knowledge, with Hal's stupid face flushed and beaded under the floppy chef's hat Stu had given him as a dark joke he hadn't got, his slit eyes anxious and hoping for everyone's enjoyment, basically looking like a nervous bride or a Polish nymphlet wondering Hey can I really trust this old ****** I mean he says he parties and I could really use a stress reliever but like is he a creeper? and this bride seems to need no oven-mitts as he sets down massive pans on towels that have to be laid out to keep the plastic table tops from searing that awful smoke that every middle school lad has experienced from smoking stress marijuana buds from a makeshift bong composed of a plastic water bottle, a hollowed out pen, and a cone of aluminum foil and any comments towards the food are hopelessly vague and/or oblique, Omega_Blue lifting his Dixie cup with gin and a festive umbrella that's always bobbing out of the cup due to some laws of liquid physics that he doesn't quite understand and says that Hal's food is the kind that really makes you appreciate whatever you're drinking, tubularbills says it's nice being able to leave the dinner table without feeling bloated, hoping that Hal won't suspect any lack of sincerity, and Digital Phoenix always rolls his/her eyes with pleasure and makes yummy-noises whenever s/he can get a fork into his/her mouth, not unlike an absurdly busty Polish girl for her age getting drilled by an older, experienced gentleman, if she were conscious.
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When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.
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their broth is bomb.com
