The Secret Ingredient

The couch is very comfortable. So comfortable in fact, that it makes me never want to stand up again. I wonder if anyone has been crazy enough to have their own ass sewn into a couch before? It does sound painful, but you’d never have to get up ever again, and eventually, the pain of having your cheeks sewn to a couch will go away, and then you’ll be comfortable, basically forever.

“Man, maybe I should try that,” I mutter to myself. The idea sounds nice, but the actual execution sounds very… messy. I don’t think I need my cheeks sewn into the leather to be comfortable either. Plus, what would I do if I had to use the bathroom?

Well, whatever, I’m just happy I can keep watching my favorite show in peace.

The black and white static on the TV fits perfectly with the night sky peering from the window next to it. From where I’m sitting, it’s like the moon is projecting a perfect television broadcast just for me.

“What the hell are you watching?” Regina asks, ruining my good mood. I turn around and see her emerge from the kitchen with barbecue sauce stains on her apron.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m watching TV.”

“No, you’re not, you’re just watching static. Now turn it down, it’s getting on my nerves.”

“No, I’ve been stuck in purgatory far too long for you to take this away from me.”

“What’re you talking about, Altia? Stop acting like you died during the black plague and put on an actual show. Television isn’t a mystery to you.”

“There you go again, Regina. Being such a damn killjoy…”

“Well at least one of us is actually killing something around here,” Regina scoffs, walking back into the kitchen.

I sink into the couch and grab the remote, burgeoningly turning down the volume. I try to focus on the static, but Regina’s kitchen shenanigans are making it hard to hear.

“Hey, can you cook a bit quieter please?”

“No!”

“Asshole…” Normally I’d curse her out, or do something a demon is supposed to do, but I’m not feeling it tonight. I get up from the couch and head for the door, opening it to be greeted with a beautiful late-night breeze.

The cul-de-sac is lit up by streetlights while the sky is pitch black, but it feels like room temperature out here. It’s summer nights like these that remind me of what it was like to be alive.

I walk out onto the porch, but my toe stubs into something hard, making me hop on one foot.

“Ow, what the hell!” I focus on what my foot ran into, and I see a weird small brown box blending in with the word of the porch. I hop around swearing like a sailor until the pain subsides. “Damn it, Regina. What’re you doing leaving bricks on the porch?”

I bend down and pick it up but notice a strange texture to the brick when I come in contact with it. It’s as solid as a brick, but my thumbs can indent in it when I apply pressure. Only barely, but I’m pretty sure that bricks aren’t flexible at all. I bring it inside to get a better look at it, only to find out that it’s not a brick at all.

“Regina, didn’t I tell you to do better with picking up your mail? You’re always ordering a bunch of crap, and you forget about it the next day.”

“What’re you talking about,” Regina says, walking out of the kitchen again. As she walks to me, I notice that there’s even more barbeque sauce drenched onto her apron.

What is she even trying to cook in there?

“I’m talking about this. I almost broke my toe when I walked into this. What is this supposed to be anyways?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s supposed to be something dangerous. Is there anything written on it?”

“Um,” I flip the box around and don’t see anything written on it. Not even her own name. “There’s nothing written on this thing at all.”

“Okay, then it’s definitely dangerous then. Try shaking it around, I think I know what it is.”

“Dude, I’m not shaking your smuggled box of crack. You ordered it, shake it yourself.”

“Oh, stop being such a pussy and shake it, I just want you to check it real quick.”

“I’m not shaking it.”

“You’re from the depths of hell itself. Stop being such a loser and shake the box.”

“I’m not shaking the box.”

“Altia. Shake, the box.”

“I have nothing to do with your evil schemes, Regina. I’m not letting you drag me into another one of them. You know I wasn’t burning in the fire of my sins; I was playing Uno in a boring wasteland. I don’t even have horns just pale skin. I’m more of a zombie than a demon, to be honest.”

“Whatever,” Regina groans, snatching the box out of my hand. “If you’re not gonna shake it then I will.” Before I could respond, she starts shaking the box violently, almost tossing it out of her hands.

The box doesn’t make a single sound. Regina’s hair flies all over the place while she strains her face like she’s constipated.

“Are you happy now?”

“See, Altia? Was… that really so hard,” Regina huffs.

“Clearly it was. So, what’s in the box?”

“Exactly what I expect it to be. Follow me.” Regina excitedly shuffles her way into the kitchen as I reluctantly follow. When I enter, the kitchen floor and counters are slathered in barbecue sauce. The bare bottoms of my feet sink into the sea of sauce, a wet slimy feeling making me shiver in disgust.

“Regina, what the hell are you doing in here!?”

“I’m experimenting. Don’t worry about the mess, it’s all part of my plan. Just watch.” There’s a massive silver bowl sitting in the center of the counter, overflowing with barbecue sauce. As Regina struggles to get the box open, I notice that the top of the sauce is bubbling up, as if it’s being boiled. I pay close attention to the edge of the bowl, and it looks like the sauce is… rising out of the bowl itself.

“Wait a sec… don’t tell me.”

“Here it is,” Regina shouts, shoving the contents of the box into my face.

“Let me see that.” Worried, I snatch it out of her hand and get a good look at it.

It’s a square-shaped gray stone with thick red streaks glowing across it. The streaks cross over each other like tangled wires, emanating a disturbing glow.

“Where did you get this from, Regina?”

“On Evil Bay. It was like, twenty bucks.”

“Damn it, don’t you know what this is?”

“My secret ingredient?”

“No! It’s the final and most dangerous piece to a forbidden blood ritual. They used this back during the witch trial days to create a pot of infinite blood, so they wouldn’t have to keep killing animals for it in their rituals.”

“Interesting… What makes it so dangerous though? I mean, I know it’s dangerous, it said so in the info about the thing, but there were a bunch of other warnings on the page too, but I didn’t want to be bothered with reading them.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. When the witches made this final ingredient, sometimes they wouldn’t perform the ritual right, and it ended with their own blood being ripped out of their bodies. You can only add this ingredient if everything else in the ritual is complete.”

“Yeah, Altia I know. Don’t you see the ritual right in front of you,” Regina says, pointing to the bowl of sauce.

“Dude, what is wrong with you? There’s no way you’re replacing blood with barbecue sauce. H—How did you even manage this!?”

“I improvised, duh. It’s what all good chefs do.”

“Like how you improvised with my summoning? Yeah, because that turned out great for both of us, didn’t it?”

“Well, this is different. I’m using barbecue sauce because I’m tired of running out of it all the time. Do you know how annoying it is to pay money for a condiment like barbecue sauce? I’m trying to make ribs or wings, and just when I think I have enough sauce, it runs dry just as I’m about to hit the perfect level of sauciness on the meat.”

“So, instead of making sure you have enough, you decided to utilize the power of hell to create a barbecue sauce fountain?”

“Exactly! You catch on quick, Altia. Not only will I have an infinite amount of sauce, but the amount of money I can make off my infinite sauce fountain is endless. People will come from all over the world, just to dip their wings into my beautiful barbecue fountain. I might be able to make golden wings as well, and charge two hundred per dip! It’s the perfect plan.”

“Did I mention this could explode whether it’s done right or not? This a ritual, not a science project. There’s no guarantee for success or safety.”

“Just shut up already,” Regina spits out, quickly snatching the stone from me. “Here it goes!” Regina tosses the stone into the bowl, barbecue sauce splashing onto our faces.

It sits at the top for a second, before sinking into the clutches of the sauce. As it descends, the sauce starts to boil rapidly, bubbles popping out of the surface.

The sauce starts gushing out of the bowl, erupting like a volcano. I grab Regina’s wrist and drag her out of the kitchen, running out of the house as fast as I can.

“Why’re you always such a dumbass!? This is your house! Do you know how much it’s gonna cost to get everything fixed?”

“Altia, please grow some balls. I have a job and parents that throw their money at me. You know, cause of that love bullshit or whatever they go on about. Money is just an object to me.”

“Why did you do any of this!? Why, why!?”

“I already told you boob brain, for infinite barbecue sauce. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Regina snaps her wrist out of my hand and walks back into the house.

Confused by why she’s so calm, I follow behind her. With an obnoxious strut in her walk, she sloshes her way through the barbecue sauce, arriving back at the erupting bowl of barbecue.

Now, it’s jumping up and down, balls of sauce splatting onto the walls.

“Observe.” Regina takes a small plastic bag out of her pocket. It has a weird dark blue color to it.

She opens the bag and dumps its contents into the bowl, immune to the chaos flying out of it. Once all the powder sinks into the sauce, the sauce stops overflowing.

Suddenly, the sauce on the walls and floor start to fade away.

“What’d you put in there, Regina?”

“Ritual canceling powder. It’s the backspace of black magic.”

“Canceling powder. I didn’t know something like that even existed.”

“You didn’t? Well, maybe you need to get with the times old woman. I’m not some weirdo stirring a pot in the woods, I’m a sophisticated—”

A giant barbecue sauce hand flies out of the bowl. It grabs Regina by the apron and starts pulling on her as hard as it can, trying to drag her into the bowl.

“Oh my god, h—help me! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Nah, you got it.” I walk out of the kitchen and head back onto the couch, placing my ass right where it belongs. Luckily, I haven’t missed too much of my show from Regina’s nonsense.

As I try to tune into the static, Regina’s kitchen shenanigans seem to have gotten louder. I wonder what she could be making that’s causing so much noise.

“Can you keep it down, Regina? I’m trying to watch my static.”

“Altia, I swear if I die, I’m gonna drag you into hell with me! Stop fucking around and help me!”

Oh, I guess she couldn’t hear me over all her noise. Oh well.

I turn up the TV as the black and white dots mix in a satisfying fashion. The sound of the static makes my ears feel fuzzy, as they drown Regina’s cooking noises.

Whatever she’s making, I hope it tastes great!