THE GREAT PORRIDGE MASSACRE
Sofia stood in the center of the kitchen, staring at the high-tech, stainless-steel appliances as if they were alien artifacts. She had managed to put on an apron backwards and tied with a disorganized knot over her $2,000 silk robe.
"Alright," she whispered to herself, pointing a wooden spoon at the stove. "kei needs nutrition. Grains. Fiber. I saw her make porridge once. It's basically just hot wet dirt, right? How hard can it be?"
She found a pot. It was a heavy, professional-grade copper pot that probably cost more than a small car. Sofia lugged it to the sink and filled it to the brim with water. Then, she found a bag of oats and dumped the entire thing in.
"The more oats, the more health," she nodded sagely.
THE SCIENCE OF DESTRUCTION
Sofia turned the stove to "High." In her mind, higher heat meant faster recovery for kei. Within five minutes, the kitchen began to smell less like a boutique bakery and more like a burning tire factory.
The water started to boil, but because Sofia had filled the pot to the maximum capacity of physics, it didn't just bubble it erupted. A geyser of gray, starchy goo shot upward, splattering the marble backsplash.
"Stay down!" Sofia shrieked, poking the bubbling mass with her wooden spoon. The porridge responded by sticking to the spoon in a thick, cement-like glob. When she tried to shake it off, the spoon flew out of her hand, skidding across the floor and leaving a trail of sludge behind it.
Panicked, Sofia grabbed a container from the counter. "Sugar! It needs sugar to taste like love!"
She dumped three cups of the white powder into the pot. She didn't realize until she saw the crystals clumping that she had accidentally grabbed the Himalayan Sea Salt the very thing that started this whole mess.
"Wait, no! That's the biohazard!"
In a desperate attempt to fix the saltiness, she grabbed a bottle of maple syrup and squeezed the entire thing in. Then, for "aesthetic," she threw in some whole unpeeled oranges and a handful of expensive imported chocolates. The resulting mixture looked like something a swamp monster would reject.
THE WITNESS
"Miss Sofia?"
Sofia jumped, nearly falling into the dishwasher. Maria, the head maid, stood in the doorway, her jaw hanging low enough to touch her chest. She looked at the splattered walls, the scorched copper pot, and her mistress, who was currently covered in gray slime and holding an orange.
"Maria! I... I'm practicing!" Sofia shouted, trying to look dignified while a glob of oat-cement dripped from her nose.
"Practicing for what, Miss? The apocalypse?" Maria asked, stepping over the fallen spoon. She peered into the pot. "Is that... a whole orange?"
"It's a 'Bold Flavor Profile'!" Sofia defended, her face turning pink. "kei said she liked bold flavors! I'm making her breakfast!"
Maria took a deep breath, gently prying a sticky spatula out of Sofia's hand. "Miss Sofia, I love your spirit, but if you give this to kei, we will be going back to the hospital for a stomach pump. This isn't porridge. This is building material."
THE TASTE TEST
At that moment, a very pale, very shaky kei appeared at the kitchen door, leaning against the frame. She had heard the clattering and the screaming and assumed the house was under attack.
"Is... something burning?" kei rasped, her nose wrinkling as she caught the scent of burnt sugar and citrus-salt.
"kei! You're supposed to be in bed!" Sofia rushed over, accidentally slipping on a patch of spilled syrup and doing a clumsy half-twirl before stabilizing herself. "I made you breakfast. It's... experimental."
kei looked at the pot, then at the orange floating in the gray abyss. She looked at Sofia's backwards apron and the chaos of the kitchen. A slow, genuine laugh the first one Sofia had ever heard erupted from kei's throat. It started as a chuckle and turned into a full-blown fit of giggles.
"Miss Sofia," kei wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye. "Are you trying to finish what the fever started?"
"It's the thought that counts!" Sofia huffed, crossing her arms and inadvertently smearing chocolate on her robe. "I fight my friends for you! I slapped Chloe! I can surely master a grain-based breakfast!"
kei hobbled over to the counter, looking at the mess with an amused, tired smile. "You slapped Chloe?"
"Left hook. It was glorious," Sofia admitted, a small, proud grin forming on her face.
kei reached out, taking a small, clean spoon and dipping it into a part of the mess that looked the least lethal. She took a tiny bite. Her face immediately went through five stages of grief. Her eyes watered, her throat constricted, and she let out a tiny cough.
"Well?" Sofia asked expectantly. "Is it five-star?"
kei swallowed with the bravery of a soldier. "It is... definitely bold. I can taste the salt, the sugar, the chocolate, and... is this a hint of copper from the pot?"
"It's complex," Sofia whispered.
"It's a biohazard," kei corrected, but she didn't look angry. She looked at Sofia with a warmth that made the ruined kitchen feel like the most important place in the world. "But it's the best biohazard I've ever had."