BCJ, Chapter 47: Cooking

“Pft, hahahaha~!” I couldn’t help laughing as I watched ‘Michael’ performing those stupid martial-arts looking movements. On the other hand, when I saw Ana doing the same thing, it seemed so graceful and sexy… Probably because she was naked, but she was also more flexible and her steps were a hell of a lot lighter.

“Fuck, I think I came too fast…” My urethra hurt. It felt like there was something stuck in the middle of it. Probably just inflamed or whatever. Honestly, that’s just the story of my life. It’s always something stupid like that. A weird ache or pain. Mostly just acne though. Horrible cystic acne in random and extremely unfortunate parts of my body…

So I went and tried to use the downstairs toilet to piss, but nothing came out. I was probably dehydrated, since I barely drank anything the past few days. My usual hydration habits involved one or two gallons of tea/lemonade… And that was when I only had one body.

Everything was just a matter of time. It only took a few more minutes before both the big and small pots of water were boiling. In the meantime, I made the lemonade from fresh water, a cup of sugar and a packet of lemonade powder stuff. It was a lot faster and simpler, but I did need to stir it a lot, with one of those long wooden spoons. I had to use a separate spoon to deal with the teabags and stir the tea, which was mixed in the pitcher with cold water. 

While I did that, Ana poured a box of angel hair into the pot. I wanted Fettuccine or some other type of flat and large noodle, but I only had Linguini and I wanted something ‘different’. Angel hair is great if you’re in a rush though. It cooks up in less than five minutes, so by the time I put the two pitchers on the top shelf of the refrigerator, Ana had to turn the fire off and she was already preparing to strain the noodles in a colander. I usually just pull them out, slowly, but that ends up watering down the sauce.

Oh, and like always, I forgot to make sauce. The angel hair was already strained, so I put it back in the empty pot, then poured a whole jar of garden vegetable tomato sauce in and mixed everything around with the fancy grabber spoon. I think it’s called a skimmer, strainer, grabber spoon or something like that? Anyway, it was black, plastic and long noodles usually got stuck in the middle of it, which was super annoying. Especially angel hair.

Anyway, I put the pot back on the stove, turned it on high and kept mixing it up, until the sauce started bubbling. Then I scooped the pasta and sauce, which were stuck together, onto a big ceramic plate. It was long and had raised edges, kinda like a bowl. For a long time, it was my go-to pasta plate, but then my father put it in ‘my’ cabinet one time and that was the end of it… Until I moved, and washed it myself. Then I placed it in the dish-only cabinet, right above the sink. Never place dirty cans of food and other similar shit, in the same drawer or cabinet as clean dishes or silverware. That’s just asking for trouble. 

Now that I had a relatively huge kitchen to work with, and an enormous amount of cabinet space, I didn’t need to worry about not having enough room… Ever again.

“All those years making pasta several times a week… Why the fuck did we only have one colander?!” I couldn’t help grumbling to myself, as I made a mental note to buy a few more from the Infinity store in the near future.

We actually had like four colanders, but my father only ever cleaned one of them at a time. They were all plastic and looked the same. Still, it felt like we only had one. And ‘I’ literally only took one with me when I moved, so I did need to buy some. It wasn’t an emergency though.

“This actually… Didn’t turn out that badly.” Ana murmured, before continuing to slurp down massive amounts of extremely thin spaghetti. I obviously had my doubts about the quality of that kinda noodle, once you reheated it a big ‘in’ the sauce. But it was better than I expected.

The two of ‘us’ were sitting side-by side and using forks to scoop the Angel Hair out of the same giant plate. The barstools really brought back memories of my childhood, sitting pasta at the bar in front of the kitchen… With all the fucking birds in the house, it really did sound like a jungle, and the plants in that other room were mostly tropical ones too.

I almost bit both of my tongues, and also spent a lot of time gagging or choking because of how dangerously fast I was eating. I also didn’t have any drinks, because I’m a fucking idiot. It wasn’t until after I finished gorging both of my bodies, that I finally decided to fill a large red mug with ice, tea and lemonade. I would have made a second drink, but those big mugs were huge. Also, I only had two of the 64 ounce mugs, so I had to spread them out unless I wanted to do the dishes every day.

“Ahh~, that’s better…” I breathed out synchronized sighs after quenching my thirst. Then I finally got to work. Before I even bothered with the laptops, I brought my big monitor upstairs, along with the desktop and all the wires. My keyboard and mouse were both cheap pieces of shit that I should have replaced ages ago, but well, they still worked.

Obviously I needed to go through half a pack of alcohol wipes before everything was clean enough to satisfy my OCD. I mean everything, including the desks and chairs, not just the mouse, keyboard, desktop and monitor.

I moved the desks around a bit too. The one with the desktop was on the right side of the room. With the window to my left, it was just like back in my basement. Except this window didn’t have a huge wooden barricade that mostly remained closed. It looked pretty big, and it faced the East, while my basement window was facing west. I was also much higher above the ground, and there weren’t any buildings blocking the sunlight from coming in brightly. Fortunately, although they could be opened and were shaped differently, they had the same functions as the ones downstairs. With the flick of a switch, they could become tinted or even turn black. That way I won’t be blinded while trying to play games during the daytime.

The desk on the northern side of the room, also known as the ‘left’ when you enter, was where I would put one of my laptops. I already set up two spare computer monitors on it. One was from my very first computer, so it was surprising that it actually still worked. It was wide, but still relatively small. The other was a newer square screen, with a taller stand, but it was ultimately around the same size. I placed the two of them next to each other, then I went downstairs with both of my bodies and finally opened those two packages.

They were heavy-duty cardboard boxes. I just used a small knife from the kitchen and easily sliced the clear tape apart. I didn’t even try using my fingernails. Speaking of which, one of the first things I did that morning was clip my absurdly long finger and toenails in the upstairs bathroom. I just forgot about it, because I have a hard time remembering that kinda shit. I mean, the only reason I can remember this much already, is because I literally have two brains.

1 thought on “BCJ, Chapter 47: Cooking

  1. Pingback: Bloodline Cultivation Journal’s Table of Contents | Mike777ac

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