[ WP ] You are clumsy in the kitchen . Today , you perform a satanic ritual entirely by accident .

Maybe Michael shouldn ’ t have told her he can cook. He told her he is an exceptional cook. One hand stirring the ice in his Gin Tonic with a straw while making erudite, over the top gestures with the other hand, trying too hard to look sophisticated. Which in itself was ridiculous, looking back at how much booze he had. But – she was drunk as well. So maybe it wasn ’ t that bad. She told him she ’ d die for good food. He told her she doesn ’ t have to die when she can just come to him for dinner. A desperate attempt to make their third date special. To everyone ’ s surprise, that is, him and his buddies, she agreed. She ’ d come around and he had to cook. Fucking great. He doesn ’ t know how to cook. He lives off Pizza, Instant Ramen and Energy Drinks. And vodka, but let ’ s not get into that. 
 
 
 Michael stood in the middle of his kitchen, not sure what to do. He lit candles all over his living room – way too early, she ’ d be here in about half an hour. Her name was Alicia. Michael liked Alicia, and now he wanted to impress her – otherwise he ’ d look like a fraud, which he basically is. 
 
 
 He looked all over the internet. What to cook. What to drink. He stood ages in the store. He got a bottle of wine. Two. Two bottles. One … for cooking. And the other for the dinner. Okay. Got the wine. Now what else. Frantically scrolling though cooking blogs and dating guides, he walked into the meat aisle. Minced meat? He could maybe make burgers. Seriously, burgers? No. Maybe sophisticated burgers. Yeah no. Beef? He looked at the different packages in front of him. What the hell, just how many different types of beef are there. Maybe… maybe not. Pork? No, maybe she ’ s Jewish. Is Alicia a Jewish name? Heck if I know. 
 
 
 Moving on, he saw there was a discount. Lamb shanks. Huh. Michael actually remembered that he saw Gordon Whatshisname on TV making lamb shanks. It looked … good. Sophisticated, so to say. Yes that ’ ll impress her. He looked at his phone once again. Google. Lamb… shanks… recipe… Okay. “ For beginners. ” Nice. Jesus that ’ s a huge list of ingredients. But hey, Alicia seems nice. Maybe she likes him. Maybe she will really be impressed with his cooking. 
 
 
 After opening the first bottle of wine and taking a big gulp, Michael would actually use it for cooking. Blegh. Nasty stuff. He got the lamb shanks, seared them in a pot that was barely big enough. Alicia would be here in 4 hours. Everything went according to plan. He poured the wine in the pot, added some carrots and onions, the first had him almost lose a finger, the latter made him wail like a schoolgirl. Rosemary. Garlic. More wine? Heck, he poured himself a glass, Michael had worse. 
 Half an hour left. 7:30. The lamb … disintegrated into the slurry it was submerged in. “ Braising ” you say. “ Acid bath ” it is. He got a little time left. Maybe he could try to arrange the food somehow nicely that it would look – decent at the very least? Or maybe edible? Fucking hell, this goop is nasty. More wine. 
 
 
 The candles were burned down halfway, and the flickering created some spooky shadows. Okay, put the meat on a plate. One of those good ones he got from his aunt when he moved into his own apartment. Matchbox would be a more fitting term. Okay, scraped the meat shreds into a neat pile. Piles are good. Piles look like he had an idea what the fuck he was trying to accomplish. Okay. A few slices of bread. The good one. You know, that French stuff. Some salad or whatever you would call those sad little soggy plants. Okay looked good. Heck, maybe he should even put a bone on that pile. That would make it more – gastronomical, for sure. Now… sauce. He took a spoon and, while trickling it all over his countertop, got some of it to the plate. Okay. Chefs always make those swishy swishy daps and blobs on food. Okay. Good. Some more. It looked a little like a star. Alicia would like that, he was sure. Michael took another sip of wine. Blegh. One more. Okay. Twenty more minutes. He put the first plate on the table. Maybe he should light some more candles. Yeah. Light all those candles. He bought in bulk. Got 213 more of those nasty little suckers. He counted them. Yeah. Candle light. That sure would impress her. On the way he tripped, lost his glass of wine. A cheap plastic thing. Splashed it all over his artificial wood floor. “ Fucking hell ” he mumbled. Hm. That big one right here. That big candle. That should be over there. He grabbed the candle, lifted it – and poured a load of hot wax on his hand. 
 
 
 “ FUCKING HELL! ” he yelled, throwing the candle away. Did Michael get something in his eye? The air seemed misty. Very misty. Did he leave something on the stove? No, the steamy foggy shit came from the living room. A sudden flash of light blinded him and in front of him he saw – what in the fuck was that. A skull with horns. Floating atop black smoke. “ Mortal, you have summoned me! I am Azazel the twenty-third! ” The skull looked around with his hollow eye sockets, only filled by small flames. “ Jesus fucking Christ ” Michael exclaimed. Was there too much Tylenol in his breakfast? … Was Tylenol even hallucinogenic? The skull shook – itself. “ Please mortal, that is very disrespectful. ” Michael ’ s mouth stood open. “ What the fuck is this? ” The skull tilted a little, he looked almost sympathetic. Save for those sharp teeth and crooked horns. “ You have summoned a demon. ” A small list popped up in front of the demon. “ You got the wine, the lamb, the candles ”, Michael looked around. He was suddenly sober again. Fucking hell are those many candles. “ you said ‘ Hell ’ five hundred and seventy-four times in the last three hours. And you even drew a pentagram. ” The skull looked at the plate. “ Or actually the saddest excuse for a pentagram that I ’ ve ever seen. ” Michael shook his head. “ Look, sorry, but this – this is a misunderstanding. How the fuck did I even summon a demon? Please just let me wake up. ” – “ Oh no no no, you ’ re not asleep. This is very much reality. See? ” Something pinched Michael. “ Ouch! ” – “ Oh, you have been setting our summoning alerts off the whole evening. You had slaughtered lamb, you lit candles in a circle – everything sets off a trigger in our systems. And we figured you ’ d have forgotten the incantation or something, many people do that. ” – “ What the fuck. ” – “ So, can I do anything for you, Mortal? ” – “ Well… you could save this mess I made. ” Michael laughed, but the skull looked sincere. At least that ’ s what Michael thought. “ Oh I can do that, but it ’ ll have a price. ” – “ Anything, anything! Just get away and let me have a good evening! ” – “ A soul would be sufficient. How about yours? ” – “ What? My soul? ” – “ Look, I… ” The skull seemed – ashamed. “ I am still in training. Since the big boss retired, they hired a lot of trainees. There ’ s lots of competition. Have to meet my quota or else I ’ ll be banished. Please let me take your soul. Oh, and could you give me a good customer rating? ” – “ Whatever, yes. Just make everything perfect and then get off. ” 
 
 
 The skull smirked. “ Very well. We will see each other again in 6 years, 4 months, 3 weeks, 3 days, 4 hours, 29 minutes and 12 seconds again. If I meet my quota, that is. Don ’ t drink and drive. ” The skull winked – however that was possible with those flaming, empty eyes. Whatever. 
 
 
 Michael blinked. In the next moment, his apartment was clean, the table was laid with fine cloth, atop fine cutlery and lamb shanks that looked like on TV. Michael looked at himself, he wore some black shirt. Neat. 
 
 
 The bell rang. He let Alicia in. This is perfect, he thought to himself. He opened the door to his apartment, Alicia came around the corner. “ Hey Michael! ” she exclaimed. They hugged and kissed. “ Come in, come in! ” He made an inviting gesture and took her coat, put it on a hook. “ Uhm, Michael? ” – “ Yes Alicia? ” – “ I told you I ’ m vegetarian. ” 
 
 
 Fucking hell. 

