Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Clarify (10/15/15)
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TITLE: Clamified | Previous Challenge Entry
By
10/22/15 -
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Luckily for Gurgzo, Blurgon’s reply was muffled by the tower of pots, pans and utensils he was carrying. Gurgzo, huffing under his breath, didn't look up as Blurgon collided with the fridge, sending magnets and notes skittering over the floor.
“Whatever possessed Mr Flurgup to dump the catering for the ‘Land Or Sea Tours’ launch party on us?” continued Gurgzo, as Blurgon dropped the wooden spoons on the ground for the fifth time.
“Zog the Great only knows, Gurgzo. Now, could you quit bellyaching and help me sort this lot out? What is all this stuff, anyway?”
“Earthish cookware,” grunted Gurgzo. “Unbelievably primitive. Why doesn't Mr Flurgup just let us use Zurgitonian technology? One zap and it’s done. Simple.”
“Because,” Blurgon answered, summoning every ounce of self-restraint, “he wants the shareholders and other dignitaries to have an authentic experience of Earthish cuisine, even down to the Earthish tools and paper recipe. Now, shall we make a start?”
“Alright, alright! Keep your fur on!” grumbled Gurgzo, his four wet hands rifling through a wad of papers. “Now, where’s that recipe-thingamajig? Blurgon! Where did you put the confounded—”
“Gurgzo!” Blurgon pulled the scrap of paper away from his colleague’s hands in horror. “Whatever possessed you to pick these up with wet hands? You’ve made it illegible!”
“Just one word, Blurgon. Cla – something – ified. I reckon we could work it out. After all, it’s primitive Earthish food. How hard can it be?”
Blurgon squinted at the letters and splodges. “Hmmm, fry the steak in the something-or-other butter…”
His musings were interrupted by the flashing of Mr Flurgup’s hologram coming through the intercom.
“Ah, Blurgon. Gurgzo. Good to see you're making a start.” Mr Flurgup’s rightmost head sported a chef’s hat, set at a jaunty angle. Its sharp white peaks were in direct contrast to his serene blue countenance, which darkened toward purple as he noticed Zurgo stifling a giggle.
“As I was saying,” Mr Flurgup shot a warning glance at Blurgon and Gurgzo, “I hope to attract some serious sponsorship for the Earth Tours project tonight. Zurgitonia’s brightest, best and wealthiest are all here. Nothing is to go wrong. Are we clear?”
“Yessir!” Blurgon and Gurgzo stood to attention, trying with all their might to resist the temptation to laugh as the hat slipped further over Mr Flurgup’s eyes.
“Good, good. Then I’ll leave you to it.”
Both sighed in relief as Mr Flurgup’s image shrank to a dot.
“Right,” Gurgzo strode toward the fridge. “I'll grab the beef. Now, how in the Fifty Galaxies do you open this thing?”
Blurgon, pretending to chop vegetables, stayed put. The spectacle of Gurgzo doing battle with the fridge door was rather enjoyable. Presently, he sauntered over to the fridge and gave the handle a sharp tug, sending Gurgzo flying as the door swung open.
“Like that. Hey, Gurgzo! Look here! Clams!”
Gurgzo inched his way up from the floor, muttering under his breath and rubbing his elbows. “Wha—”
“Clams! Don't you see, Gurgzo? Clamified butter! That must’ve been what the recipe meant—”
“What? You mean we mix the clams and the butter?”
“Yes, Gurgzo. Come on! We’d better clamify the butter and get those steaks cooking, or we’ll risk the wrath of Mr Flurgup if we keep the guests waiting.”
“True, Blurgon. If anything does go wrong, at least Hangar Two is nearby, should a quick getaway be required.”
After delivering the last steak to Mr Flurgup, Blurgon and Gurgzo surveyed the carnage in the kitchen.
“Reckon we’ve got time to tackle this before the dishes come back?”
Gurgzo, not listening, was marching toward the debris field of papers and magnets around the fridge. Blurgon shrugged and headed for the sink. He had just filled it with hot water and half a bottle of washing up liquid when he heard a commotion coming from the direction of the dining hall. He turned to Gurgzo, whose green fur had turned ashen.
“What's up, Gurgzo?”
“You know those things that fell off the fridge when you crashed into it?”
“Can't say I noticed, but go on…”
“One was from Mr Flurgup. About the clams.”
“Oh, Zog’s underpants, Gurgzo! What?”
By now, the commotion was getting louder and closer, Mr Flurgup’s angry tones clearly audible.
“Apparently the Scientific Testing Unit put them there a month ago,” faltered Gurgzo. “Some kind of experiment. And absolutely not to be consumed!”
Blurgon gulped. “Fancy an impromptu trip to Earth, Gurgzo?”
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This should do well. Kudos.
The characters had interesting names and personalities.
Great use of the topic, cleverly pulled together and a super fun read. Well done!
God Bless. :)
Well done.