I Will Destroy Bobby Flay

I let my guard down

I was too quick to celebrate

I get into an episode of Beat Bobby Flay. I make it into the final round. The bastard asks me what my signature dish is. I look him dead in his putrid eyes partically covered by his eyebrows. I give him a wicked smirk. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwich”, I say. The judges gasp, the audience gasps. Bobby sweats. He has finally known true fear. How can he grill this? How can he turn this into a mid-western fusion? The clock starts, he rushes blindly to his station. Time seems to have stopped for the ginger bastard.

This isn’t my signature dish. This was all a ruse. Part of my master plan. While Bobby’s scrambling to try and be a show off with a pb and j sandwich, I’m busy doing something else. I’m making a circle. A summoning circle. I use the oldest language known to humanity. The words passed down to me. The words of the void. The words of justice. I say this ancient poem, and awaken the old ones. They will help me on my quest. Time is up, and Bobby looks like his life has drained out of his body. He’s poured his heart and soul into this dish. Time to crush him like he’s crushed so many before him.

Bobby and I get to the judges table. Bobby is shocked. His eyebrows fall off of his face. His receding hair turns ghost white. The old ones. The old ones are the judges of this competition. They take a bite of his dish. Bobby has some how mangaged to grill a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. There is pulled chicken in the center. He can’t escape his past, for he is weak. The old ones pause for a moment before giving their answer. “Not enough salt...” Bobby looks like he is about to weep. It’s over. The old ones drag him into oblivion, where he will be trapped for the rest of eternity. The blood shed has ended. I’ve done it. I’ve beaten Bobby Flat, once and for all...