Curses, my Flan has been foiled

it was such a great flan, every step carefully considered, every eventuality prepared for. With a nefarious laugh, I gathered the tools to hatch my evil flan. Pancake mix, eggs, the congealing blood red raspberry jam that clung to the sides of a near empty jar. Fluoride toxified tap water, an orange and the deadly spinning blades of an ancient blender. 

The innocent slab of butter began to sweat in its pan. Eventually collapsing completely in fear as I increased the heat. The rest of the prisoners waited complacently after I made an example of the orange by SKINNING IT IN FRONT OF THEM!

Next I cracked open the eggs and beat them mercilessly before casting their broken forms onto the violated afore mentioned  orange. I then cleverly hid the bodies by burying them under a cup of cement like pancake mix. I had forgotten the jam, knowing it could rat me out to the authorities I drowned it in the water, shaking the jar violently till its contents agitated and liquidizing this last witness.

I cast it onto the grave of the other condiments and hatched the next phase of my demented flan. Just when the food products thought my depravation had been sated, I cackled like a madman and pressed the sharp red button and to their terror, the blades at the bottom of the trap began to grind forward. Faster and faster they spun, shredding the last remaining dignity and firm resolve of my victims.

I poured the evidence of my violence onto the heated pan and in what can only be considered a twinge of guilt I covered their remains with a large metal lid.

The dogs began to bark.

Apprehensively I glanced towards the other room. Was their another witness to my evil? Had some passer by glanced in the window and by happenstance witnessed my horrifying act? I rushed to the next room, deadly spatula in hand, raised to strike at any hapless food product in the vicinity, but luckily, it was a false alarm. No random banana or meddling kidney beans, only an incontanant dog and her overexcited pup demanding temporary exit from my lair to relieve themselves of their burden.

I spent a few minutes groping for the dog chains, then a few more minutes untangling the braid the pair had made of the two leashes. Carefully I snapped the clasp on to each or their harnesses, and with gentle consideration removed the chairs from the area to keep the little darlings from entangling themselves…..MY FLAN!

Distracted by my canine companions I had forgotten my hostages. I flew back into the kitchen, fearful they had escaped. At first I could not tell, for they had concocted some sort of smoke screen to cover their escape, and as the alarms belatedly began to scream it’s warning I finally found the concequences of my mistake.

My glorious flan was ruined, foiled.

Somehow in the excitement my victims had escaped. Sneaking out through a vent or some other passage, while leaving a poor decoy of themselves in the pan. A dark blackened mess of some vile scraps sat in the pan instead,pillows under a cover, as if to taunt my failure.

Heartbroken I sat at the table, and in frustration, gnawed at the burned remnants of my flan. Relishing the ash like remains to remind me of my failure, but I am not defeated, not as long as there is a spatula in my hand.

I will strike again.

Soon my vegetable produce, soon.