Chapter 8: The Cooking Thing

Ein finally managed to calm his body enough to keep himself from running around and screaming. But he still suffered from quakes that started from the epicenter of his right hand (which had been touching Ratty), to the rest of his body. He walked back into the haunted house. "Is it gone?"

Princess nodded.

Ein sighed so hard, he almost knocked himself over.

Princess stepped over and punched him in the shoulder.

He rubbed the tenderized skin. "Hey, what was that for?"

"For being so stupid. We would have thought of some excuse. You didn't have to traumatize yourself like that."

"You're probably right." He dusted himself off. He'd created quite a dust cloud outside from his crazed sprints around the building.

"Ein, you…" Princess took a deep breath. "Thanks. You always were the best at just barely passing tests."

"Yes, thank you." Vincent hopped onto Ein's bike and wove the tables. "Perhaps you aren't quite the Mean Boy I thought you were."

Ein's eyes blazed. "I didn't do it for you, Jerk Boy! Princess is my best friend, and I'd do anything to help her, even if it means associating with a stuck-up--"

"That's enough." Sunflower propped up her glasses with a forefinger. "We may have gotten past this obstacle, but this isn't the end. I think it's rather obvious what our major problem is right now."

Princess popped a lollypop out of her mouth. "The cooking thing, right?"

"Yes. The cooking thing."

***

"Why do I have to be the judge?" Ein squirmed in his seat in the dining hall.

Princess tied a bib to him. "Because you can tell us honestly whose food is the best. If you try lying, your face'll puff out like a blowfish."

"And why do I have to wear this bib?"

"Because Old Hobo Joe said he's making ribs. Are you finished complaining now?"

"I guess. Just make sure Jerk Boy doesn't try to poison me."

Princess sighed. "Vincent would never do anything like that. The food'll be good."

"Like the sandwich you made for the Cowboy? I saw his reaction."

"Together, we may have made a pretty bad sandwich, but I think it was the mixing of tastes that screwed the whole thing up. Individually, we'll do fine. So don't worry." She walked back toward the kitchen.

"Hey, Princess."

She turned around. "What now?"

"Your mom told me to give you a message. She said she doesn't like what you're doing, but she respects your right to do it."

Princess stared at him. "She…she really said that?"

He nodded.

"When did you see my mom?"

"She's teaching the pcych class I'm taking. Is that unusual?"

"Not really. She teaches college courses from time to time. Has been for years."

Ein wasn't sure he should ask this, but he wanted to be sure. "You didn't…you didn't ever tell her what I said to you, right? About following your dreams and all that?"

"Of course not. In the letter I wrote her, I made it clear that it was absolutely my decision to do what I'm doing."

Ein felt the swelling of his face go down quite a few notches. "Thanks. I needed to hear that. I've been feeling a little paranoid lately. Like she's after me."

"She would be after you if she knew, so don't feel too paranoid."

Princess was almost out the door, when Ein added, "I'm sure she misses you."

"Yeah."

Attempt #1

Old Hobo Joe presented a most elegant-looking platter of ribs, then stood beside Ein, watching him eat.

"This is pretty good, Old Hobo Joe."

Old Hobo Joe smiled.

"What kind of meat is this?"

The old man shrugged.

"You don't know?"
Old Hobo Joe shook his head. He put a hand on the table and made it crawl around, then he knocked the crawly hand with his other hand.

It took Ein a few moments to register the mime. "Old Hobo Joe…did you get this meat from the fridge?"

He shook his head.

Ein almost threw up.

Vincent popped his head out the kitchen door. "Oh, did I forget to tell you? Old Hobo Joe only cooks with road death."

"It's called road kill, idiot." But even calling Vincent names didn't make Ein feel much better this time.

Attempt #2

Princess set a plate of crumbs onto the table.

Ein studied it closely. "This isn't much food, Princess."

"I know, but if I hold onto food for too long, I eat it. It looked so delicious. I couldn't stop myself."

Attempt #3

Please don't let Vincent be a good cook. Please don't let Vincent be a good cook. Please don't let--

"Here you are." Vincent presented the plate of food. "A perfectly mean plate for a perfectly mean boy."

Ein looked down at the food, and the food glared up at him. It had a straight bacon mouth and two egg eyes, dyed red, hopefully with food coloring and not blood. Two sausage eyebrows were narrowed to add another level of meanness to the plate.

Ein cut into the eye and brought it close to his mouth.

Vincent smiled.

"What'd you do to it, bike-stealer?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

Ein studied Vincent's face. "If I get sick from this, I'll--"

"You won't, you won't. Just consume the food, will you?"
Ein put the egg into his mouth and--

No…

No!

It was the most delicious egg he'd ever tasted!

This couldn't be happening.

"How is it?" Vincent rubbed his hands together.

"Well…it's….it's…"

Princess and Old Hobo Joe returned from repainting the outside of the haunted house.

"So," Princess said. "Have you made a decision?"

Ein gripped his fork. Tight. "Uhh…let me think about it."

Attempt #4

Ein stepped into Sunflower's office and was greeted with a falling skeleton. But he wasn't afraid of skeletons. "Sunflower, what about you? Will you cook something?"

She shook her head. "I'll be much too busy with the economics of this place to be the chef. Sorry. You'll just have to choose between those three."

Attempt #1 Revisited

"Old Hobo Joe," Ein said. "Would you be willing to cook something that you haven't found dead outside?"

Old Hobo Joe shook his head. He picked at the air with his fingers then pointed to his heart.

"I don't understand."

Vincent spoke up from his hammock. "He said he's a scavenger through and through."

Attempt #2 Revisited

"Princess," said Ein. "Is there any way you could control your cravings while you're cooking?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

Attempt #4 Revisited

"Sunflower," Ein said. "What if the restaurant hires a cook?"

She shook her head. "We don't have enough money to pay that kind of salary. Sorry."

Decision #1

Ein's decision was: "Uh…well…give me a few more minutes."

Decision #1 Revisited

Ein's decision was: "I guess…it has to be…Vincent." As those words left his lips, he felt his spirit drift from his body. He felt cold…so very cold.

"Good job, Vincent!" Princess said.

Old Hobo Joe patted Vincent's shoulder.

Sunflower smiled at him. "We know now that you're the best cook, but the question is, will you be our chef?"

Vincent stood from his hammock and straightened his dirty robes. "I, Vincent Vandervander, vow this: I care not for how much work I will have to do; how much sweat I will have to let out of my skin…I will bestow upon this restaurant the best delicacies possible. I will do this for all of you. Even you, Ein. You might be mean, but even evil people like you deserve a second chance."

"That's very big of you, Vincent," Sunflower said.

Ein saw a light. So bright. So beautiful. It was coming closer. Closer.

"Ahhh!" Ein jumped out of the way just in time to avoid being swallowed up by the refrigerator. "Why was the refrigerator trying to eat me?"

Old Hobo Joe wrestled the fridge back into place.

"Maybe he likes you," Princess said.

***

Ein walked home, all alone.

The rest of the group was having a Vincent-Is-A-Super-Great-Guy party, and Ein didn't want to have any part of that.

But he didn't particularly want to go back home either. The only thing awaiting him there was cleaning and being shouted at.

So he went to Chucky's house.

Ein paced back and forth in Chucky's room. "And then it turns out that his food tastes the best, so I have to choose him, because if I lie, my face puffs out like an apple, and then he has the nerve to call me evil, but the worst part is that they believe him, but I know he's not as great as they think he is, because--"

"Hey hey, slow down,"--Chucky interjected.--"How am I supposed to understand you when you're talking so fast, and you're not giving me any time to respond, just like this Uncle I have named Uncle Orange, but that's not his real name, and we just call him that because once he was really hungry and he ate a hundred--"

"The point is, Chucky, this guy is a jerk. Now my best friend is going to put her dream in his hands. I know he'll ruin everything. I know it. I just wish I could find a way to show them the truth about him."

Chucky kept working on his model spaceship. He looked through one of those magnifiers--the kind that jewelers used to study diamonds--to make sure every piece was set in place just right. "That is a bit of a problem you're dealing with, isn't it?--Seems to me like you should find some real evidence to prove that this Vincent guy isn't a good guy, kinda like a detective, or maybe you could set a trap for him and then--"

"Thanks, Chucky." Ein smiled. "You're a genius."

"I am?--I mean, I do get good grades, except in high school I wasn't very good at PE because--"

"Do you have a phone book?"

"Why?--Are you hungry?--Do want to call for pizza?--Or Chinese?-- Or--"

"I need a phone number."

Chucky walked downstairs and came back with the phone book. He plopped it on Ein's lap.

"Let's see. Vandervander…" Ein found a bunch of different types of Vanders, but no Vandervander. "Maybe it's unlisted."

"You know, I could probably find out the phone number on the Internet, I'm pretty good at--"

"I'd appreciate it, Chucky."

Chucky sat at his desk and activated his computer…or computers, was more like it. Screens lit up all over the room, lights flashed, like the inside of a UFO from a movie.

"Chucky, where'd you get this?"

"I kind of built it myself, my parents gave me the money for the parts, but I'm always adding more and more software and hardware, started back when I was a little kid, after my fifth birthday, which was a pretty good party, except for the clown, because it kept--"

"Could you get the phone number now?"

Chucky nodded. "Samantha?--Would you--"

A girl's face appeared on the screens. "Yes, Chucky?"

"Could you do a search for me?--That is, if you're not too busy, I know how busy you are with your studies and all, but--"

"Don't worry about it, Chucky. What kind of search?"

Chucky looked at Ein. "You tell her, Ein, because I don't really remember the name, but I think it started with a V, or maybe a B, and it sounded kind of like salamander, do you like salamanders, I had a pet salamander once named--"

"I need the phone number for Vandervander."

Samantha closed her eyes for a moment, probably taking in the data. "Do you know the first name?"

"Um…I know that the son's name is Vincent, but I want the phone number of the parents."

"Do you know where they live?"

"Either in this town, or one nearby. That's my best guess anyway."

Samantha nodded and closed her eyes again. When she opened them, she took a paper out of her pocket and held it out. "Here's the phone number of Theodore and Rosemary Vandervander. Would you like the address as well? They live on Ambrosia Avenue. It's in town."

"That would be even better."

Samantha pointed at the printer, and the information printed out.

Ein took the paper. "Thanks, Chucky. And…thank you, Samantha."

"You're welcome, Pine."

"Actually, my name's Ein."

"Oh." Samantha turned to Chucky, then cracked her knuckles. "So what kind of search do you want me to do?"

"You already did it, Samantha,"--Chucky said.--"Remember, you--"

"I did?"

He nodded.

"Oh," she said. "Do you need anything else? I could help you study or something."

"Me and Ein are kind of busy right now, but maybe some other time, so you can go back to your studying, because I know how eager you are to--"

"Alright. I'll go. Bye, Chucky. Nice meeting you, Line." She turned around and a door appeared. She opened it and stepped into a room filled with stacks and stacks of books. The door disappeared when it closed.

"Where did she go?" Ein asked.

"The Internet, she studies all sorts of things there, like--"

"What's wrong with her memory?"

"It's a bug, a computer bug, not a bug like a spider or a--"

"Couldn't you fix it?"

"Of course I could, but if I did, Samantha wouldn't be Samantha anymore, she'd be someone else, like Margaret or Ann or--"

"I see." Ein studied the printout. He had the phone number and the address. Perfect. "I think it's about time we paid a little visit to Jerk Boy's family."