#30DayWritingChallenge: An adventure in the kitchen.

Day Eleven: An adventure in the kitchen.

Draft One.

The door burst open while I was peeling the potatoes.


I quickly ducked out of the way as the first masked man expertly drew his sword and sliced the space where I stood but moments ago.

With a flick of my hand, I threw the peeling knife. Another masked man screamed as my knife plunged its way into his thigh.

Draft Two.

The door burst open while I was peeling the potatoes.


Without really thinking, I grabbed my iron skillet and bashed the rushing undead taho vendor. When I saw its knees bend, I used the side of the skillet to break its knees.

The corpse still struggled to crawl towards me despite its useless legs. However, its slower pace gave me time to draw my largest cleaver.

Draft Three.

The door burst open while I was peeling the potatoes.


The animal asked if I had any beer in the fridge; it happened I just had two cans of Red Horse left.

We shared the beer but the unicorn declined my offer to serve sugar-coated dilis. He asked if it was okay if he can smoke. It turned out unicorns smoked dried moringa.

Draft Four.

The door did not burst open while I was peeling the potatoes. I finished preparing for pork menudo without any interruptions.


Nuked longganisa.

My mother, in her usual tone of absent-minded concern, asked if the frozen longganisa will be adequately cooked when placed in the microwave.

“Sure,” I said.

Of course, she didn’t believe me, commenting how it’s unsafe to eat undercooked meat. I told her how microwave cooks food from the inside out, so it doesn’t matter if the food was frozen.

I overcooked the sausage. My mother was amazed to see what was a fat tube of meat shriveled to half its size.

So in the end, it was no longer longganisa. The meat was dry and too deep-fried, it was a sausage-shaped chicharon that sprung out of my plate when I cut it with a spoon.

Day 03 of the 30-day Drawing Challenge: Your favorite place.

Day 03 - Favorite Place

This is a rather inaccurate sketch of my kitchen.

This is where I go to get myself away from thinking and scheming and worrying. The world’s problems will immediately take a back seat when I have to decide how much salt I will have to put in my soup.