The blender whined the chili into oblivion.

The blender whined the chili into oblivion. The contest was very specific about elements being apparent, but he needed the flavors. He'd smoked & roasted them, then an encantation

ceremony held by a Mayan shaman conjured up Kukulcan, the winged feather spirit. Bobby Flay cut the goat's throat. The Kukulcan grimaced, touched him and said, "Chipotle

provide a nice base color but then we'd need some Tapatio and guava to really make the structure pop. I looked down at my glass and needed a refill. So hard to find good help these

millennia. I had been alive sooo long and while building with guava did provide me a way to discuss the loss of structure and the baselessness of time, it was disappointing because

nobody got it. Maybe I should have used a different tropical fruit to make my point. I decided to give up on reason and start a cult.

We would spit on reason and instead spend our days in cow costumes, waving our devilish forked tails in the air and dancing in circles to PJ Harvey tunes. That would teach

old Nurse Nursey a lesson. She was obsessed with cows, and with us in our superfluous costumes as such, there was no way she could touch us. Not even if she brought along her

cattle prod and lasso. She tried to lure us with her sweet nurse voice and open-palm cupped hand. She said "here you go, its ok.". The hairs on my neck were tingling sending

that really bothering us. That was a warning that we should end this journey. There is no golden cattle that makes us all rich, but only death.