The Art of Cooking With Turnips
by: Robert Zimmerman

I was surprised. As chance would have it, another Christmas had come around and the world hadn't been set on fire by aliens with too much time on their hands yet... Well, actually, I was probably only surprised because I found myself hanging upside-down in a bathroom stall. I grudgingly got out my wallet, knowing Christmas had come around, and gave in, paying up for losing my bet. Greg got a smug look on his face and asked if I wanted to make another for next year. I simply shrugged and said I'd think about it. And then I said yes, so he left. Then I realized I was still hanging upside-down in the stall.

Several hours later, I began my walk home. "Good golly gosh!" I exclaimed. "I shur' got 'im good fer next year... Hmm... I wander if wrastlin's on tonight..."
A passer-by peered at me, seemingly interested in something. He stopped. "Are you on crack?"
"Of course not, my good man." I replied, and then continued my walk home.

When I finally made it home, it was beginning to get a little hard to see. The sun was low on the horizon, the oncoming cars were blinding me with their headlights, and the many people I had gathered to push in front of cars (purely for the purpose of stopping them) were all taller than I. "To hell with it!" I finally screamed, knocking the people over in a domino fashion in the general direction of the sidewalk. I walked on my newly made path, only stopping for the occasional car to barrel across in front of me, and eventually made it to the sidewalk.

"It's a guy trying to be Hitler!" A man on the street exclaimed... which I thought was very rude, because no one had asked for his opinion.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You just used the Domino thing. Hitler used that!"

I took the next couple minutes explaining to the man the difference in making people fall over like dominoes and the Domino Effect. When he insisted that I was a devout Hitler worshipper and that I was obviously trying to found some confusing religion to make everything I did legal, I finally broke down and asked if he was Jewish. He said he was. I told him to find a large, coal-powered oven and call me when he got it working. The man gave me a cold stare and stomped off. I pondered his anger and, after realizing what I'd done wrong, ran over and doused him in kerosene then threw a match at him.

Anyway, I walked up to the front of my house and threw my entire body weight on the door, but it didn't budge. Perhaps I should explain: our lock was broken, so we'd taken to piling things in front of the door to keep it shut. So I continued to throw myself at the door, howling louder than a lifeless dummy after a few dozen tries, with no avail. After I began to look and feel like said lifeless dummy, I decided to go in the back door.

The first thing I remember anyone saying to me was, "Don't forget to put the "Santa Tray" out. The next thing, when the woman turned around, was, "Holy crap! Who the hell are you?" Everyone paused and stared at me, horrified. I believe it was around this time that I had accidentally tripped over the fence and ended up in the neighbors' house again. The woman seemed to notice this also and announced, "Oh, never mind, it's just Robert! It looks like half of his skull collapsed and he has a few compound fractures, not to mention the blood - oh the blood - but other than that he seems fine." This apparently contented everyone, so they continued their menial tasks.

I was then told to put out the tray for them and go home. I figured I might as well help them out in the spirit of Christmas, so I got out a tray and filled it with the necessities, then placed it on the end table near their tree. Again, everyone paused and looked horrified. "Since when does the Santa Tray have a six-pack of beer and nuts on it?" Someone inquired loudly. I explained that I had been whipped once for putting out milk and cookies and then again for just the cookies and once more for just the milk and, a last time, for putting out the milk and cookies again. This seemed to blunt the family's anger but I guess my perception was wrong because they too whipped me.

After the merciless, but rather entertaining and slightly ironic, beating, I returned home. I even remembered to go through the back door. Anyway, I entered the kitchen and, as I only had a few hours left until Christmas was over, frantically got out my best cookbook, The Art of Cooking With Turnips, and whipped up a main course and dessert.

Unfortunately, it was an ill-fated day. No one was meant to eat my turnip casserole or the lovely parfaits I had made. My good friend Dylan suddenly appeared in my kitchen and, for some reason, he seemed very angry.

"You threw me in a ditch with a broken collar bone and left me for dead! It's time I paid you back!" He shouted, unsheathing the nine swords on his back, sprouting extra arms to wield them as needed. I laughed at him and said that he was a fool for not bringing a gun. Out of spite, I think, he grew a tenth arm and pulled a gun out of his pants. Realizing that I was screwed anyway, I ran towards him as fast as I could, feeling cold steel slicing my hands, then arms off rather cleanly, and head butted him in the chest. He screamed and turned into a puddle of goo. Not a plain puddle of goo, mind - it was that extra special kind of puddle with nine swords and a nickel-plated 45. Seeing as how it could turn into a problem, I did the only thing I could think to do. I dumped my dinner on Dylan and he began to writhe and, after a while, boil.

I put myself back together in the living room and came back to find no sign of Dylan or the food I still planned on serving to my family. After a rather extensive search, I found that my cat had gorged herself on the remains and gotten rather fat in the process.

And so the lesson I was to learn became very clear to me: cats suck – they eat things you don't want them to. Get a kitten, they're cuter. Or I suppose it could have been burn people that call you an incarnate Hitler. But really, the lesson to us all is thus: learn the art of cooking with turnips! Yum, yum!