Brow shining with sweat, Marreese slaved away in his kitchen with uncanny focus. As steams and aromas wafted around him from multiple pots, he darted to and fro; tasting this, sampling that, adding ingredients with precision. Tossing in dashes of spice and small amounts of chopped vegetable, he controlled his domain with the steady hand of a veteran chef. A sonata composed with soothing melody, a sculpture chiseled to be nearly lifelike, an artwork painted with evocative strokes; all these vocations could be likened to what Marreese was achieving in his kitchen.
“Hey, dude, you almost done in there? I’m getting hungry!” Draymond Green yelled from the dining room.
“Patience, Draymond, patience! You cannot hurry the process if you want it to be done correctly!” Marreese called back. “But if you must know, I’m just plating now.” He assembled the final presentation of the plates, a smile curving his lips as he beheld the result of his efforts. He could only hope that his selected teammates would appreciate the beauty as much as he did.
“Dinner is served!” Marreese announced, setting the plates in front of his friends.
“This looks, uh, great!” Steve Blake said with a grimace. “Very…sophisticated.” He took an experimental sniff of the dish, then coughed and waved the air in front of his nose. “Whoa. Pungent. What do you call this dish?”
Marreese smiled proudly. “Speighetti.”
Draymond put some of the pasta on his fork and appeared to lose his resolve after he had gotten it halfway to his mouth. “What are these red bits? Red peppers, maybe?”
“Close. I chopped up some red Skittles,” Marreese answered.
Shrugging, Draymond put the forkful into his mouth. After a second, it was clear from his facial expression that he was not enjoying his bite of food. After struggling to swallow, he asked, “What else is in this stuff?”
Laughing heartily, Marreese responded, “Now now, Draymond, I can’t give away all my secrets.” He began to lustily eat his own plate as his two teammates watched with disgust. Brownish sludge, a cruel pantomime of sauce, dribbled down Marreese’s round face. “It sure is great, right guys?”
Exchanging a glance with his sick-looking teammate, Steve said, “Actually, I kind of just lost my appetite. But it really is tasty, Marreese. We have to go now.”
“But you’ll miss desert!”
Steve didn’t answer as he got up from the table and walked out the front door with a wave. Draymond soon followed. His companions having departed, Marreese grinned and gathered their nearly-untouched plates closer to him. “More for me!” he announced to his empty dining room, before resuming his frenzied feeding.