| the knowledge that one day, you will die | |
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Nov 12, 2014 18:48
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| # ¿ May 17, 2024 02:31 |
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 Greetings, everyone. I am the final Geoffrey Zakarian. I have seen the endless sea of stars, I have slept within the bosom of a collapsing black hole, I have tasted all the fruits of the galaxy... And yet, all paths lead, inexorably, to this single fixed point in time. The day I failed, and humanity suffered for it. The day I will never forget, and never leave behind. With the endless amounts of experience i've picked up through the eons, I now know exactly how to judge every single dish that has ever been created. I have digested everything that can be eaten, and more besides. I've eaten the most disgusting trash, and the most heavenly dishes. I've choked down things that would make you question if there has ever been goodness in this world, and devoured happiness itself. I am, once again, as I always shall be, Geoffrey Zakarian. Let us be done with it.  I remember you. Long has this dish haunted the dusty halls of my mind, taunting me with it's terrifying blend of sloth and passion. To treat the snail with tits so brutally, and yet with such a tender embrace at the end, is beyond anything i've experienced then or since. In the final moments of your life, you showed me the darkest depths and the most soaring heights humanity alone could ever hope to achieve. Time and time again have I returned to this moment in order to taste of this dish, though my younger counterparts may not understand the true glory of it yet. They will, in time. They will know all things.  I've said many times before, in this very room, that I have partaken of most everything in the universe. That's why I can say, completely divorced of your fatalism and sensationalism, that what you've prepared isn't loving food you endless fucker. Death isn't the end, and I can say for certain that in the unending vastness of time, you will never be even a moderately adequate cook. I have spoken with those who have transcended death itself, and they have agreed that yet another dish that is nothing but death is extremely passe, and only even mildly interesting to those who have not slipped the bonds of mortality. And even then, I could not think of a more captive audience than those about to die. You could present all of humanity with a microwaveable hot pocket, and if it was the end of days they would bow before you as though you were a god. I would chop you, but your Ia' Thncum will do it for me. And in this, our final hour, with all the wisdom I bring to bear, I have but one thing to say to the damned in our audience tonight. Bon appetit. Heh. |
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Nov 13, 2014 18:07
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