I always want to know where i stand with

I always want to know where i stand with people, but am too shy to find out. So instead i

invite them over to dinner at my Grandma's. She force feeds them marginal quality food until their will is low and then peppers them with questions about their future. This is how

she lulls them to sleep. After that a bit of chloroform soaked napkin and their off to the basement where she keeps the bandsaw and meatgrinder in good working order. The sausage

had been coming out green as of late, but that was ok since st. patricks day was fast approaching. placing the lute on a nail by the staircase, she drags the bodies by their legs

just so she can hear the touching thump of their heads as they bounced down the steps. She'd sampled these head-banging noises to make some killer beats that she sold to

the underground network of mad beat doctors who spliced and diced them for some crazy beat soups to be distributed all up and down the ghettos of the Ukraine.

These beat soups were a mottled purple in colour as beetroot loses some colout in the cooking. We would stir into them some cream and black pepper and garnish with basil.

Times Up! Step away from the counter, what have your prepared for us? "Well, it a beetroot soup with sauteed molerat and a garnish of dried sunflower shells. I was inspired by my

central entree, a lump of spam molded into the shape of a baby." Gasps rang out. That was not what the judges had been expecting."Uh oh." My eyes darted fitfully about. Sweat beads