#005 The Cooking Class

There’s something very wrong with this cooking class


My mother forced me to go to a cooking class. She thinks a girl should be able to cook to be able to find a good man. I know, I know. It’s not the way that we think anymore, but still, I want to make her happy, so I go. She offered to pay, so there’s nothing to lose besides my time that I have plenty since I don’t have a “good man” in my life (hence the cooking class and my mom’s words, not mine).

I arrive at the place at it looks nothing like the place that I was imagining. You know, a small and cozy place with some kitchen utensils and a professor that goes around tasting stuff and telling us what to do—something like “Masterchef” but for people who want to learn.

Instead, I find myself in a warehouse area where I don’t see anyone. I arrive at the place, and probably it’s like “MasterChef” due to the size of the warehouse. It’s like you would expect. Rectangular, tall, and ugly with a massive door and a small door. The small one is open, so I decide to go in.

“Hello, is the cooking class?”. I hear my words echoing in the distance.

“Yes, it is, we’re back here.”

I go through some rooms that have stuff covered up and, kind of dirty, so I start to think that I won’t eat what I cook. And then I arrive at the place where “everyone” is. I see four people all dressed up in camouflage gear and wearing weapons. Did I mention that I’m wearing yoga pants and a top? No? Ok, now start imagining my face when I see them.

“Hey there, you must be Molly?”. The contrast between the happy and friendly tone and the person who was uttering these words is another shock. I see a massive, army ranger looking type guy, also wearing military clothing but no weapons on him. As he approaches, things start getting darker, not because of the lights, but our height is so different that he blocks the light when he comes to me.

“Yes, but I’m probably not in the right place. I was under the impression that this is a cooking class.”

“It is. Now what were you expecting? Something with stoves and a perky blonde girl telling you how to bake muffins?”

“Well, yeah, something like that.” Thanks, mom. Did she book the first cooking class that she saw, or was she fully aware of this, and this is some sort of elaborate prank that they are playing on me?

“I understand, and I get that a lot, but this isn’t your average cooking class. I see that you didn’t bring your weapons. That’s fine; we have some that you can borrow. Your clothing is not stealth also, so I’ll try to find something that fits”.

“Why do I need all of that to cook?”. I thought about running away, but the guy was so huge that he would easily extend his arm and catch me.

“That’s because we’re hunting our food first.”

We’re what!?!?!?!? I didn’t say this out loud, but I think my face did all the talking.

“Yeah, we’re going to hunt an extraordinary animal to cook. Here are some clothes, and since you’re quite skinny, here’s a simple gun that will not break you in half when you fire it”. He laughed, and again if I closed my eyes, I thought I was talking with a barista asking for my order. The guy was super friendly and easy-going, but still massive and menacing.

“OK,” I say with no confidence whatsoever. Why am I doing this anyway? Ah, yes my mom hates me. Lesson learned.

“OK, people let’s gather around; we’re going out in 5 minutes. Get ready, please.”

What the hell are we going to hunt and, more importantly, why I’m still here, dressed in camouflage with a gun in my hand.

“Can you tell me what animal we are hunting?”

“Sorry, but it’s a surprise. It’s part of the magic of the whole program.”

“Magic? Are you serious?” I said without moving my lips.

We leave the place and go through what looks like a path in the middle of the whole warehouses that lead us to train tracks. We cross them carefully, but no train is active, so all looks good. So far. After that, we enter the forest that appends our village. I was trying not to remember that there was a forest there, but here we are. The other people don’t talk. They just look intense and ready to shoot.

“As we enter the forest, keep a safe distance from each other and only shoot forward, never sideways; otherwise you’ll hit one of us. We don’t want anyone to get hurt today.”

We walk in the woods for 30 minutes until we see a path that was a path of destruction and not one created by humans walking.

“We’re on the right track; he’s close enough.”

I’m starting to think that a small gun was just a courtesy and that the others will do the real killing. I’ll fire the weapon and feel like I participated. Good. I don’t want to kill anything but, yet I’m here. Chacing some “special animal” that we’re going to cook with goodness knows what and god knows where.

We hear the noise. Everyone stops and listens. No one speaks, and that’s a good thing. Whatever we’re killing doesn’t need a heads up that we’re coming.

And then we see it. Enormous, menacing, and looking at us with the eyes of something that found ITS dinner instead of it being OUR dinner. People start shooting, and I run. I hear screaming and not the right kind. The dying kind. Shooting continues, so someone is alive.

And then silence. No more shooting, no more screaming, nothing. Just quiet. It takes all out of me to crawl back from the hole I was hiding, and I see our tour guide standing beside the animal and talking with him.

“Well, there are only a few of them, I know, but I hope it’s enough. How do you want to cook them?”

I try my best to keep quiet and run. I don’t know the direction if it will lead me somewhere, but I do know that I don’t want to be there. Thanks, mom, again!

“The girl?”, he says, looking at it. “Let her be. There’s hardly anything to eat.”



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Want more stories like this? Check out my “Fiction” section, or if you check out other Cooking stories.


Photo by Edgar Castrejon on Unsplash

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