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.̷̡̡̠̣̫̣͇̘̱̤̹̼͍͇̉̾ͅ.̶̧̖̜̲͙̞̮͙̟̱̟̖͔̀̉̆̆̎͂͒̍̈́͑̿͘.̴̜͇͚̖͎̦͑̋́͘͜.̴̧̡̦̤̱͚͉̝̣̤̻̤̗͐̾̈́̒̓̌͋͂̒͂́͘̕ ̸̨̤͈̪͓̦̹͎͕̗͉̾̒̉̊̒͒̿̊̀̆̊̀̋͘̚͝͝.̶̢̢̺̩̩̬͗̂͜ ̷̡̛͇̣̙̻͙̫̠̾̉̌̑̐͘͝.̸͉̲̟͙̦͐͆̅͛̑͘͝-̷̡̧͇̩͖̦̱̣̹̤̦̦͈̱̗̭̅͐̀̐͑̂̈́͑̆͒̕̕͝.̸̨̩̱͎̹͔̪̟̮̘̥̠͔̫͓̳̍̒̃͂͑̄̓́͌͛͒̍̈́̅̑̏͜͝.̸͉͕͓̼̣͚̥͈̖̮͎͓̱͈͕̐̾̑̊̆̎ͅͅ ̴͈̀͒.̴̭̳͖̠̰̹̝̙̜͍̏́͑͛͌̏̈́̐̀̄̈́̅ͅ-̷̡̟̟͍̳͍̻̘̪̖̖̲̆͗̿͜͠-̵̰̝͚̤̦̖̉͋̿.̵̼̖͍̦̗̤͈̉̉̎͋͂͂̄͠͠ ̴̢̛̛̛͎̂̾̀̈́̋͜ͅ.̴̼̍̉̃̑̀͐̀́̀́͒͑̓͆̚͝.̴̨͇̝̲͔̜̦̺̞͑̎̑͗̓͂̀̏́̄.̸̛͚̘̅̔͑̊̚͠.̷̥͕̿̒̇̚͠͠ ̸̧̦̠͓̰̱̣̭̫̮̬͎̣͎̍́̊͌͆̒̽͛͂͆́̈̄͜.̵̧̛͙͓̣̞͑͊̈́̿̿̍́͛̏̀͋͊́́͝͝ ̸̞̭͖͋͋̾̌͗̓.̴̡̯̥̭̯̯̖͂͗͆̎͘-̶̡̛̝̥͖̺̟̫̙̩̬̖͕̀̽́̓̀͌̄̉̈͐͂̅͋͐̉͘͜.̵̨̨͍̞̻͉͕̲̼̯͖̗̣͍̣͆͂̋͊͑̄̕͜ͅ.̸̝͍̜̰̈́̄͂̅̀̇̊̌͘͜͠͝͠ ̷̦̺͋̅̋̍͐̿.̴̢̡̛͕̼̬͉̬͍̠͍̈́̓̓̽́̀̃̉̒͜-̵̛͍͎̭̱̯͔̻͑͊̎̃͂͐́̕-̵̛̮̻̈́̐̊͆͑́͘͝͝.̷̧̬͍͚͚̻̣͚͌̐̀̊͌̔̄͜ͅ ̵͕͍͔̰̝͕̙̬̱̒̈̀̀̇̅̂̎͋̍̈́̌̇̆̕͜.̷̛̞̲̯̲͋̊́̍̀̆͂̔̏͂̐͊͐͝.̵̡̢̙̜̭̪̖̖̼̪̟̜́̇͂̿͂̔͑̾̔̇̍́̈̕͝.̴̢̡̢̰͙͕̺̰̪̟̩͍̟̭͚̙̹̊̇̏̌͘.̶̧̨̛̖͙̠͈̹̻̼̪̬̖̲̟̐̉͑͒̽͂̾̐̍͆͋͘̚͠͝ ̷̧̨̧͎̹̪͎̮͇̹̮̻̀̄̂͆̉̈́̎̈́̎̉̈́͘.̷̗̥͖̘́͆̓̔̌̃̈́͑̒̑̓̚͠ͅ ̸̨̟͉̠̩̝̖͊́̓̏͌̊̃̓͐̎͌.̷̨̡̢͖̮͚̰̣̗͕͔̿̾͐̕-̶̧̡̛̟̭̘͙̫͈̫̦̤̐̇̈́̓̎͆͜ͅ.̵̢̪̱̖͖̾̒͗̒̋̽̀̈̕.̶̢͇̩̭̘̺͎̲̙͆̇͛͋̂̑̏̆̓͜ ̷̢̿̈̾̀̈́̏̇̑̅̚͝.̵̡̮̪̓-̷̨̗̩̹́́̐̌̕-̵̢̢̨̛̖̯̱͍͈͈͖̭̙̗̝̰̪͉̏̑͆̄̀̀̂͛͋̇̿̆̂̑̕͠.̸̧̡̤̯͙̻̼̦̮͒̍͑̈́̊͝ ̸̢̯̥̫̤̬͔̺̺͎̫̙͖̝͂͛̅́̚ͅͅ.̵̲̝͛̍̈̑̀̑͋̔̀͝.̸̛̟̜̆͌́͐͗̀̂͂̿́̏̈́̂̔͆͘.̶̧̜͚͙̳̹̳̹̗̖͉͙̯̺̅̑͗̔̀͌̄̆͆̈̏̓̋͗̾̽ͅ.̵̭̃͆͛̏̈́́̓̆̈̔͝ ̸̡̧̛̺̪͎͓̰̀̐̀̓̓́̈̆̀͜͝.̴̯͈͕̗͉͖̜͕̖̜̻̩͎̗͔̺̿̈́̑͊̇͂̍̀͌̓̎̈́͑̚̕͜͠͝ ̷̠͠.̷̢̧̨̹͉̭͓̩̻̮̬̪̦͍͙͑͌-̷̞̬͍̣̱̘͓̉ͅ.̴̢̢̭̩̣͎͙̘̮̖̙̳̻̜̮̯̯̂̐́̽̂͛̾́͝.̷̛̻͔͙̙͖̬̅̅̽̿͆͂͆̾̆̌̿̎͒̀͜ͅ ̸͖͉̙͑͂̓́̀̄̐́̄̂͠.̸̛̩̪͖̥̖͖̭̺̦̽̈́͛̿̾̌̀̕͝-̷̛̭͔͎͎͙̭̳͔͕͍͉̩̰̤͔̜̻͒̽͑̀̄̇́̋̽͑̑̕͝͝-̴̺͇͉̫͚̬̺͔̬͋̃̍͘.̸̡̡̛̝̻̻̙͕̟͕̠̠̯͆͗͋͐̈́̈̂̓̿͐́̽̏͘̚̕ ̷̯̤͒͒͒̎͑̽̈́́̂̑̅͒̈̚͝.̶̨̢̧͍͇̗̟̗̝͔͈̣̗̬̪̜̈́̔̓̋̿̐̾̍.̵̛̘̳͇̅̑̓̔̄͊͋̆͆̇͒̏́͐͘.̷̨̮͈̪͚͓̼͈̟͓͚̦̠̈́̊͐̅̀͗̒̉̌̿̏̑̆̚.̴̛̯̖͍͉̮̥̕͜͜ ̶̧̧͕̟̭̰͉͖͔̯̘̹̭̪̟̾́̍̒̿̿̍̓́̃͘͠͠.̴̧̜͎̲̻͙̆̾ ̴̢̡͇̎̈̾.̵̧̡̟̯̩̞̹̻̯͇͓̃̈͒͌̑̈́̋̃͒͝-̶̧͙̜̼̮͖̗̯̥̲̏ͅ.̸̛͕͕͚̼̎́͐̈́̈́͊̋̅́͊̂͐͑̚͝͝.̸̢̧͚̹͍̦̪͙̳̰͔̘́͒̈́̇̔̏̽̈́̊̓̋̒̿͐͘͜͠ͅ ̷̡͇̱͔̝͚̱̣͙̥͈̩̭͛ͅ.̵̩͍͂̾̂̈́͛͑̅͗-̶̡̼͎͎͍̣̰͈̤̖͇͙̺̀̊̽̿͑̾̅̄̉̕̕͠͠͝͝ͅ-̵̨̡̳͍̣͕̭̻̱̠̯̪͋̅͂̇͜ͅ.̷̰̝̖̻̼̍͂͗̓̾͑̎̀ ̴̧̡͈͈̭̜͍́̅͌̊̂̎͆̓͒̃̐͝.̶̧̢͎͕̥̼̺̝̦̀̾̍͜.̴̧͓͚̱̿̍͋̑.̵̨̡̨̧͙͎̰͙̫̳̤͎̪̟̮̼́̈́́̄̆͊̊́͐̒͋͘͘͠͝ͅ.̵͍̝̮͙͛̃̐̀͜ ̷̫̥̠̞̞̃̋̿́͛͛̽̊̾͒͌̏͝ͅ.̴̛̥̟͙͖̲̺̠̜̬̓̑ͅ ̶̢̨̰̮̜̤̞̪̹̯̓͑̈̈̾̉̈́̈́̓̌ͅ.̸̢̝͙̩͎̹̼̬̩̈́͛̂̇̑-̷̢͎̟̬̜̖̤̂̀̑͝ͅ.̶͖̹̙͙̫̭͛͂̅̂͂̏̆.̴̨̖̙̹̻̥̜̫̻̞̬͚̜͇̼͋̍̅͐̃͜ͅ ̵̪̜̣̩̹͈̥̰̏̉̑̉̾͗͗͒̀̿̿̕͘͘͝.̴̢̢̛̫̮̪͈̼̒͂̿̂̀̍̎̎̇͠.̷̡̯̀͆̅̀͒͐̍͑̍̚͜.̵͓̳͖̽̿̕͘.̶̨̺̣̬̻̼͓̙̩̺͇̱̺͇̖̪͓̅̔̄͒̉́̽͐̈́̔̕ ̴̻͂͠.̷̧̣̱̱̯͈̰̖̫̈́̉̓̈́͊̑̿͋̄̚͠ ̷̮̼̯̱͈̙̙̰̬̣̿͊̍̃̏̈́͊̏̏̃̑̆̽͘͜͠.̶̧̺̞̝̤̤̮̜̟̯̰̩͂̀-̶̨͇͙̳̮̞̥̫͐͋͑͋͋͝ͅ.̶̣̄̓͛̓̀̌̈̋̈́̓̄͌͐͛̀̓ͅ.̸̗͎͉͍̜̥̗̝̦̟̱̠̙͉̲̣̻̀̏͛̍̑̋̊͑͛̑̈́̂̓͆̈́͝ ̷̢̧̺̝͉̦͍̠̻̪͓̦̞͈͗͋̑̈́̂͑͠͝.̷̡̨̛̖̯̩̦̤̜͓͈̒-̸̘͚̤͚̘̯̟͖̠͙̤͍̰͚̃͐̑́́̅͐͑̈́̈͆̂͂͜͠͝-̵̨̯̜̘͔̹̥̻̖͗͆́̉͆.̴̛͙̑̿̂̆̈͠ ̵̨̖̪̣̜̬̯͇̤̤̞̫̌̋͐͑́̿͐̒̉̍͐͐͜͠/̸̧̡̛͇̞̝͖̳̱̞̠͒͐͊́͗͆͑͑ ̶̡͈̬̫̖̆̒̔͝.̵̛̻̞͎͉̻̮̀̀̄͒̄̀͆͘̕.̵̧̢̭̺̞̣͓̞̲̝̥̱̠̌͗̈́̋͋̋̀.̸̯͍̙͓͂́̈́̑̀̈́̚ͅ.̸̛̖̠́̈́̈́̾̐̿̇̌̓̌͘͠͠ ̴̳̔̾͒̌͗̃̋̄̔̚.̴̛̜̈̄͒ ̶̢̠͎͖̞̤̥͔̂̀̓̂̃̊̕͝.̷͖̣̩̲͂̾̓-̶̛̘̠̺̗̮̦̩͎̥̇̇̈́͐̐̊̈́͂̀̀͐̀̒̍͆͠ͅ.̵̡̲̝̣̲̺̰̣̺̔ͅͅ.̴̢̻̙͖̺̜͇̭̝͕̳̀͒̌̉̆̂͌́̀͋̚ ̴̭͐́̃̈́̋̄.̴̧̛̆̓̇̄̾͆͋́̌-̴̢̫̥̝͓͚̠͎͍̠̦̈́̋̀̈́ͅ-̴̧̨̨͖̩̖̪͔̼̭̹̻̦̭͔͑̑͑̓͑̽͆͆͜ͅ.̷̯̰̣͎͚̦̦̗͉̤̞͛̋ͅͅ ̵̦̭̮̀̂̃͋̐̈͐̎͒̀͐̍̚͠ͅ/̴̙̖͔̬͎̬̳͔̞̠͚͗̅͆̈́̓͌̓̇̌̀́̕͘̕ ̵̢̪͓̩̠̪̪͈͉̭͓̯̃̎̓̊̏͝͠ͅ-̶̡͈̹͉̖̲̜̥̱̰̟͕͕͌́̏͗͐͠-̴̢̤̗͙͓͓̖̜̥͔̰̬̫̜͐͌̽͊͐̄̽ ̴̛͍̤̘̀͊̀̉̋̑͒̾͋͒̌̈́̅̕͝.̷̧̝͙͉̟͛͑̽̐͗͋͐͒͒̇͋̇̆̑̌̚͠ ̷̡̨̮̜͇͓̲͉͓̪͎͇̻̍̊̅̈́̔͠͠ͅ-̸͖̲͉̘̘̖̈.̴̳̹̱̥̈́̐͌̀-̶̡̛̹͚̲̻̱͓͖̪̣̞̹͗̆̍̎͌̊̒̇̑̃̂́͆͘͝.̵̨̡̲̮͇̲͓̤͔̩͍͉͚͐̿̓-̶̧̘̻̖̤̬̱͉̘̱͍̼̙̹͇́̒̽̇͑̇̈́̂̉̍̈́̆̚͜-̵̡̧̼͖̔̅̊̈́͑͐́̅͋͊͌̕͠͠͠ ̷̨̡̺̰̥̪̳̬̪̲̭̱̘̝̋͊͋̈͌̄͒̆̓̀̔/̸̱̉̔̀̓̏̆͛̿̈́̈́̋̚ ̸̢͔͚̰̯̫̤̮̪̬͛̾̏̀͌̅̆̓̉̆́͛̇̅̈́͘.̵̞̗̬̖̮̳̳̙̤̬͙̟̩̲̈́̈͑̏̾̕͠.̴̰̱͇̯͔̠̤̲̰͊͆́̓̅͊̋̒̈́͗̇̕.̵̣̗̦̹͕̙̖̈́.̵̥̗͔͇̞̖͚̦͖̲͛̈́͊͆̐̋̍̄ ̴̦̜͔̙̖̄̌́̔.̸̬̗̘̞͈͓̰̌̇̄̋̂̐͗̈̇̀ ̵̞̤̰̖̆̄̏͗͊̿͑̒͗̊̌̓̎͝͠.̵̝̻̹͈̲̗͕͈͓͕̠͖͖̖̅̾̄̃ͅ-̴̯̎͗̃͝.̸̹̑̓̑͝.̷̛̣͈͔̪̺̼͍̽̍̓̄̓̆̌͗̑̃͐͜͠ ̵̜̻̺͇̦̥̱͙͇͑̑̋̓͌̀̆͘͝ͅ.̸̢̻̰͇̮̹̮͚̞̟̜̺͇̮̊̅͆͠ͅ-̴̢̗̺̝̼̯͍̥̟̲̗̘̱̙͍̞̐͗̏̊̌̿̈́̃͒̚͘͜-̴̗̺̬̟͖͓̭͉̬̬͋̂̏̊͊̅̓̀̌̅.̷̮̤̲͚̟̗̻͒̽̀̓̅͂͒͒̂̽̕̕͠ ̷̨̨̢̬͓̯̜̼̦̮̫̤̀̇/̷̣̹̝͕̦͓͐̈́̇̓̉͜ͅ ̴̢̬͓̤̫̬̻̹͉̗̟͈̓͒.̶̢̠͖̜͙̲̮̜̙̫̭̼͇͚̯̎͆̋͐͌͂͜͝.̷̧͂̓̋̈́̈́̿̕-̴̛̰̘͕͉̋̀̈ ̷̢̧̨̡̩͍̗͚͉̫̲͕̥̬̥̳̿̿̈́͛̈́͑͋̅̏͗͐̽͌̒͘̕͜͠.̶̺̲̩͉͔̣̈́̓̌̈̈́̂̇̌̿͛͒̚.̴̨͉̮̝͙̣̥̽̓̐̄.̸̧̨̼̬̤͎̰̻͇̫͗̀̿̅ ̴̫͓̥͍̆̀̔́̃́̀̔͋̈̉̑̆͂͠-̶̢͚̠̼̘͚̟̪̠̤͛͌̾̽̍́̋̕.̴̘͇̠͙̠͖̪͚̰̠̣͙̐̾-̴̞̹͈̺̱̺̝̘̒͗͛̆̈́͂̓̐͊͜.̷̡̨̢̻̣̱̰̙͚͓̱̝̅́̽̎̔̏͜ͅ-̸̧̨̩͓̬͉̙̝͚̭̭̤̲̪͔̬͛̿͒̓-̸̨̛͇͓̎͑̆̀͠ ̵͎̙̰̞̭̓͑͒̊͋͆͂͗̌̚-̷̼̯̮̲̝̥̣͇͎̮̌̃͑̿̒̾̐̀͗̉̓͘.̴̧̧̢͚͔͇͎͖̳̝͖̻̺̗̟͇͒̊̅̇̾̋̈́͂͑̊̔̒̑̿̽͗̂-̴̧̨͎̞̗̞̼̻̮̜͓͖͙̌̈̐̿͊͒̃̓́͘.̶̨͈̞̬͍̠̗̯̦̭̂̌̐͊͗̓̔͂͘͝-̴̨̣͎̬̳̘̱̀̾́̍͆̃ͅ-̴̢̨̝̠̰͈̝́́̍͌̂͛̈̓̓̆̕ͅ ̸̻̮̹̋̈́͒̇͌-̸̡̢̛̟̮̟͔̥̪̦̱̳͎̜͗̃̍̓͌̄̽͊͌̆̚.̷̛̩̲̍̐͌͌̌̇̏͂̋̈́̓̚͠͠-̴̨̣͕͍̦̞͙̗͑͒͜.̶̜̆̿̊͊̐́̊͘͜-̵̳͍̹̬͇̩̝̪̳̺͎͎̺̰̼̘̅̋̄̇̌̆̅̓-̵̧̬̭͕̻̜̫͓̟̲̜͖̐͆̈́̇̃̑͗͘
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Loud and cheery noises of laughter filled the TV.
Instead of a pleasant, rhythmic sound meant to express joy, it was fake. Forced.
A girl with white hair and a straw-like accessory begins to speak, "Welcome back, Boys and Girls! It's Poppin-Play Kitchen with your favorite hosts-"
The camera shifts to a person wearing an orange dress with a big white bow. Two huge cherries are attached to his brown hair. It almost looks like a cake.
I wink and pose for the stupid camera. I make sure to Introduce myself with a dazzling smile! "The dazzling P-chan!"
The camera shifts to the girl with the white hair once again. The way she Introduces herself is way too carefree, it's as if she isn't worried about changing. As if her life is not on the line.
The freckled girl with the white hair did a peace sign and spoke, "The lovely C-chan~!".
The camera shifts to the newbie. A girl wearing a tattersall patterned orange dress with a bright yellow apron. Her hair is styled in two long braids. Her hair is mostly white but has quite a bit of yellow in it. The braids resemble egg whites and yolks.
I noticed she is not talking so I make sure to signal to her before the the satisfaction scale drops, "and our newest member...!"
I look to her side. The newbie finally speaks up and introduces herself "U-U-chan!". Her voice is too uneven and shaky. She looked around the room awhile she spoke, she refused to look at the dammed camera until the very last second. Her expression is too... too honest. Small drops of sweat appear on her face. Her nervousness is obvious. I just hope the audience won't notice.
Thankfully the loud cheers of the audience come to save us.
I look at the camera once again.
C-chan speaks up, "For today's episode, we'll be making a classic breakfast treat..."
"Egg toast!", we all say in unison! Making sure to say it as enthusiastically as possible and posing to the audience.
The camera moves away for a bit. It has to show everything. Behind the the hosts was a scale. On the left was a yellow smiley face (satisfied) and on the right was an orange sad face (unsatisfied).
Among the fake kitchen and plastic toys. Two big human hands appear. They look extremely out of place. The ever so familiar hands point to the scale like they always do.
The most experienced host speaks out. "As always, let's keep that satisfaction scale nice and high ~" his voice stayed confident. It did not flatter. It did not waver. P-chan refused to let himself die change.
P-chan continued to speak, "we wouldn't want to let down you lovely boys and girls~!" as he spoke he looked at the newbie and gave her a look. The kind of look that says DON'T MESS UP. He squinted his eyes. The newbie, U-chan looked him in the eyes. Sweating and still nervous but getting the message. She looked at the camera.
U-chan begins to speak. "Ah- and remember, if there's anything you can't do yourself, ask an adult for hel—"
Thud!
A loud, dull and heavy sound cuts her off.
I already knows what it means. I hate it.
The satisfaction scale drops. The arrow points closer to the sad face.
The producers and the audience noticed U-chan signing “help” in sign language. They did not like it at all.
I look at the the scale, we all look at it.
We have to fix it.
P-chan has been an host the longest. He is the most skeptical, and the one with the sharpest survival instincts. He already knows what will happen if the rules aren’t followed.
I look at U-chan with disapproval and judgment.
"Well- what are we waiting for? P-chan? U-chan?", C-chan's voice suddenly brings me back to reality.
The camera zooms in on the three hosts. They all pose for the camera and say "LET'S..! GET..! COOKING!!!"
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The big hands of a child put a plate with two pieces of bread on the table. U-chan stopped to look at the hand and question it. She has never seen anything like it before. Of course she found it a bit weird.
She quickly got out of it and looked at the camera. She made sure to smile. P-chan told her that she has to keep smiling no matter what happens.
C-chan spoke calmly despite what happened. She is always so level headed. "First- grab yourself a couple slices of bread. Sourdough, Shokupan - whatever kind you like best!"
The dumb camera moves to my side, it's my cue to speak. "Then, to transform that ordinary slice of bread into toast, grab yourself a pan" I say to the camera, not looking away and trying to keep a happy expression as much as possible.
The giant human hands place a pan in my hand, I look at the pan and my brain just shut down for a moment. The previous host—
I quickly shrug it off and drop the pan. I let the former member fall to the cold ground.
I can't let myself show even the slightest hint of discomfort. If I do— that is what will become of me. The audience will be unsatisfied. I can't stay silent. I have to bounce back and continue speaking.
He said out loud for the camera, "or if you don't have any of those, you could always go for a trusty toaster instead!" This time the big child's hands bring a plastic toaster. Thank god
U-chan speaks out, "J-just pop those bad boys in... and there ~!"
The two pieces of toast jump way too high into the air in a way that is not supposed to be possible, a cartoonish popping sound appear as they do.
I make sure to act impressed.
U-chan caught the two pieces of toast with a plate. She did a little spin after that. She said, "Easy as toast!", trying her best to make the audience happy. C-chan is sure the audience will like U-chan's little performance. She gave U-chan two big thumbs up and smiled.
The camera zooms out for a bit. I lean in towards it and say, "Next, grab yourself a small chunk of butter and a couple eggs-"
The big hand puts the butter on the table. Three pieces of plastic onions suddenly snap into reality.
I look at the onions and there is only one thought on my mind. Fuck
I look at the hand and say as calmly as I can so the child will understand. "Oh! Er, no, a couple eggs"
The hand of the kid moves a bit, almost like nodding. As a sign that it understood the message.
The child brings three more onions.
The child did not understand at all. I lose my composure just a bit and say, "No, no. Eggs! E-G-G-S-"
Thud!
I look at the the scale, we all do.
The satisfaction scale drops even farther. The arrow is getting closer to the sad face.
NONONONONONONONONONO NO! NO! NO!
FUCK
The newbie's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
U-chan spoke to the child, trying to explain to them again. "Um - ah I think he means 'eggs'? The ones that come from chickens?"
I look at U-chan in anger, as if to say 'Don't blame this on me! Shut up!'
Suddenly the hands of the child get dangerously close to U-chan, it was like the hand was about to hit her.
Like a big child that can't control their anger and frustration.
Thankfully it did not take their anger on U-chan. The child put an orange jam on the table. U-chan spoke nervously to the hand, "Oh! Um, ah - that's not quite"
The child did not listen. The hand brought two more jams like it was trying to provoke her.
U-chan said with a shaky voice, "Um.. Uh."
U-chan did not know what to do. She kept muttering to herself quietly. Trying her best to think of something.
.
We have to fix it.
..
P-chan asked C-chan, "How are we supposed to make EGG toast without eggs?" He hoped she will know. Just say anything. Please help.
Thud!
C-chan answered unsure, her voice was dripping anxiety and uncertainty. "This is unusual... maybe they placed them off-set somewhere?"
Thud!
"I'll check... If we don't make something quick, WE'RE toast.", P-chan replied. His act of confidence started to crumble away.
...
Thud!
...Ding!
U-chan slammed her hands unto the table. U-chan's braids became undone. Her hair looks like a cracked egg shell.
I look at U-chan with a bit of worry and shock. Her words made my heart sink to the floor. U-chan said loudly, "How about we try something a little, um, unconventional!"
What is she doing?
Do you want to doom us all?!
I have to stop her before- "What are you-"
U-chan ignored me. Her determination blinded her.
U-chan brought the two plastic pieces of toast, some whipped cream and fake marinated oranges close to the camera.
That newbie... She will end us
U-chan explained to the audience her idea, "All you need is whipped cream and some marinated oranges."
"Grab your piece of toast and spread a bit of whipped cream all over it", U-chan picked up the one plastic piece of toast and spread whipped cream on it. Well... It was more like the whipped cream suddenly appeared on the toast.
I look at the The satisfaction scale, it does not move. It doesn't raise and it does not drop. It's frozen in place. The meter to stayed red.
"Next, cut a hole through the other piece and place it on top.", U-chan did a circle motion with the knife like she cut the toast. A soft pop was heard and the toast suddenly had a hole in it.
U-chan put the piece of toast on the other. Soft clunky noise appeared when she did so.
"Finish that off with some slices of marinated oranges ~", U-chan throws two sliced pieces of marinated oranges on top of the toast and they click in place like the kitchen toys fitting in slots.
It looks like a bad imitation of egg toast.
U-chan brings the 'egg toast' close to camera, showing it off. Her face covered in shadow, eyes wide open refusing to blink for even a second and her smile unnaturally big.
"And done! Sweet, fruity 'egg toast'!", her voice got higher and higher with each word. Like it was about to crack.
Me and C-chan stared at the satisfaction scale. It felt like eternity.
It moved.
Thud! The arrow pointed to the middle. It was not bad. It was not good. It was adequate but it was all we needed.
Yay! Loud voices cheered! A bunch of neutral faced confetti popped and a sign that said 'Meal Done' appeared as well. Happy and upbeat music played for a moment.
I breathed out as a sign of relief. It worked
C-chan said relived, "Phew-! And here I thought I was gonna get turned into silverware—"
Thud!
My eyes first widen in shock and than fear. The satisfaction scale dropped. The meter moved to the red part. The audience is unsatisfied.
Pop!
That cursed familiar sound. C-chan disappeared, in her place is a grotesque version of carbon of milk. Her body mangled inside it somehow. Just like the other hosts, she is gone. No matter how many times he witnessed it, it never not hurt him. P-Chan hated this sick show. This wasn't the first time he lived something like this and he knows that as long that he lives, he is stuck here. In a endless, agonizing cycle in this fucked up kitchen. HE HATED IT. HE LOATHED THAT FACT—
The happy music snapped him out of his thoughts. He had to say something before they will do the same to him.
I stare right into the camera. Doing my best not to show my fear and keeping a big dazzling smile for the audience.
"W-Well- There you have it folks!"
The big hand takes the plastic toys and utensils away.
"Tune in next time for another exciting new recipe with your wonderful hosts, P-chan, C- C-chan, and U-chan!", I say as cheerily as possible.
...
...
Silence. The audience hates silence. The producers hate silence.
U-chan does not speak. C-chan's death has stunned U-chan.
I kick U-chan's leg as if to say, “If you don't speak right now, you will die.”
Her eye twitched.
Thankfully U-chan speaks before anything else happened, "...And remember kids, if there is anything you can't do yourself..."
A desperate cry is stuck in her throat. U-chan suppresses a sob, tears appear in her eye but they don't dare to drop. Her voice vulnerable and cracked, "Just .. ask for help—"
The camera moves away. Ending today's show.
Only after the cameras are off and gone, P-chan lets his mind process.
...C-Chan.... She is dead.
P-chan is so... so... so angry.
If that stupid hand hadn’t screwed up, this wouldn’t have happened.
If the child had brought eggs—
No. No. P-chan knows the child is not at fault.
He can't bring himself to fault a child.
But the anger does not disappear. It does not fade.
What is done is done. It can't be changed.
C-Chan is gone and she will never come back.