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The World’s Mysterious Breakfast

“My wife makes the world’s most mysterious breakfast,” said David, to his best friend Alan. 

“Oh! Come on! Ellie’s cooking is far better when compared to Dan’s. ” said Alan, rolling his eyes. 

 Dan was the cook at David and Alan’s office. More of an instant noodle maker than a cook, if you ask anyone. The office goers had no other option but to eat whatever Dan “cooked”. It was boiled noodles with soy sauce on Monday, boiled noodles with vinegar on Tuesday, fried noodles on Wednesday and Friday, flat noodles, which looked more like elongated potatoes, on Thursday. Thank god it was a 5-day per week job! 

 “Ah! You think so, don’t you Alan?” said David. “Come over for breakfast tomorrow,” he added, with a smirk on his face. 

 Alan knew Ellie long before David – they were schoolmates and Alan played cupid in David and Ellie’s love story. He remembered the good ol‘ days when Ellie used to bring delicious muffins and cookies to school. Though they were kids back then, Ellie’s cooking was excellent. Everybody thought that one day Ellie is going to be a very famous cook. And fast forward to the present, here she was, working as an IT analyst in an organization whose name even dogs on the street hadn’t heard of. 

 Alan skipped his morning glass of healthy smoothie and jogged all the way to David and Ellie’s house. Boy, he was ravenously hungry! As he climbed the steps, he could smell something delicious. There was a tinge of thyme and cinnamon, and something else. The smell of spices took Alan to a different world. He was already drooling like a little puppy. 

 David opened the door and called him in. “Make yourself comfortable, Ellie’s laying all the dishes on the table. We will go to the dining room in five minutes,” said David. 

“I smell something delicious, Ellie,” said Alan. In return, he heard a murmur from Ellie. 

 After ten minutes of pop-pop-pop and ratatat, Ellie finally called the two men to the dining room. “Breakfast is ready” she shouted from the kitchen. “I will bring some coffee in a minute, ” she added. 

 Alan opened the casserole and saw a fluorescent-yellow gooey mess with lumps of deep purple in it. Looks don’t matter, thought Alan. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious. There was a bowl of Colorful and shiny blobs on the table. Alan tried to scoop one and the blob fell on the ground. As he bent to pick it up, the blob got up, shouted at Alan in a strange language and ran away! 

 Ellie brought a bowl of noodles to the table. The noodles were thin and long like spaghetti. Alan got a shock of his life when he peered into the bowl. The noodles were wriggling like earthworms. They were looking at him with puppy-dog eyes as if pleading him to not eat them. They started chanting ” don’t eat us, don’t eat us.” 

 Ellie said “oh, don’t mind the umpopolks. Dig your fork into their gut and they will stop chanting.” 

Alan did not have the ‘guts’ to kill the noodles. Kill the noodles? Is that what this has come to? Killing ‘noodles’? He tried poking his fork into one of the angry-looking noodles. The noodle showed Alan some ninja skills and did a ‘hiyaah‘ sending Alan’s fork flying right through the dining room and out of the window. 

 Ellie put two scoops of the yellow mess with purple lumps on Alan’s plate. Alan scooped a bit of the yellow gruel and a bit of purple lump onto his spoon and put it in his mouth. It tasted tangy, spicy and sweet at the same time. He felt a bit dizzy. There was a trickle of sweat on his forehead. He was about to wipe it with his hands when he saw….. His hands were turning purple. “Excuse me, I need to use the loo,” he said, rushing towards the loo. Ellie followed him.

He was shocked to see his reflection in the mirror. His face and hands had turned purple. The ‘sweat’ on his forehead was bright green. “Oh, don’t worry, Alan. It’s the side effect of holmins and cubba-bubba. The effects will reduce in a minute or two. Let me make you a strong cup of briggijellies and orange xbabbas,” said Ellie.

Alan didn’t want to drink a cup of bubba-labbas. Nor he wanted to know what goblims were. Or, was it holmins? Whatever it was, he just wanted to run away from this place. “I think I better go home, Ellie” said Alan. 

 “Was there something wrong with my cooking, Alan? I know I am not an excellent cook but these dishes are the most nutritious ones out there. And healthy too” said Ellie. 

“They are very much alive too,” thought Alan. ” It’s just that… I am feeling a bit unwell so I want to go home and rest for a while, Ellie. “ 

“Okay. At least have some coffee,” said Ellie. She gave Alan a dark liquid that smelled like coffee. He gulped down a bit and spit it all out. “What the hell is this? You call this coffee???” said Alan. He was now angry and even more hungry. And as you all know; anger and hunger do not go well together. 

 “It is coffee, all right. What is wrong with the taste?” said Ellie, taking a sip of it from Alan’s mug. 

“What is wrong? What is right, you ask! First the bubba-labbas, then pompilopin and …” 

Cubba-bubba and umpopolks” corrected Ellie. 

“Don’t correct me, Ellie” spat Alan. “Hubba-labbas or poppycock, I don’t care! And what with the so-called coffee? It tastes like poop!” 

“When did you taste poop?” asked David. 

 Alan was silent for a minute. He was blank. When did he taste poop? How did he know what poop tastes like? “No, quit playing games with my heart… My heart… No, stop! Quit playing games with my mind” said Alan. 

“Our cat ate all the coffee beans the other day. So, I collected her poop the next day, dried it and ground it to a powder,” said Ellie. 

“David, do me a favour. Never, I repeat NEVER call me again for breakfast or lunch or dinner. I prefer to eat my own poop than your cat’s!” 

“Ah! So, you have tasted poop, haven’t you? ” chuckled David.

Alan stormed out of the house. 


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