Then Kara Cook asked, “What do you know about my Great-grandfather?” Chuck Roastt answered, “I know that he founded this school, and that his name was Theodore Cook.”
“Uh-huh, that’s right” she acknowledged. “He never used his full name, though. Instead, he called himself ‘The Cook.’ It was kind of a play on words, because he really was a very good cook. He was especially known for his delicious meat dishes. Did I ever discuss The Cook with you?” Chuck Roastt said, “No, nothing that I recall.”
Kara Cook said, “Then let me tell you. Yes, he founded this school. That’s why I came here, and because I came here, I saw to it that you could come here, too, on a scholarship just so we could be together, so you could fulfill your special purpose, and so I could help you fulfill it in a very special way. I have planned this for a long time, since we were small children.
“Now, here we are today, together at The Cook School both wearing the school uniform. I am wearing a white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt, and the school necktie. And you are wearing a white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt and the school necktie … tightened around your neck like a noose.”
“Go on,” said Chuck Roastt, unaware that he was unconsciously stroking his neck under his chin exactly where a noose would be. “I’m intrigued.”
Kara Cook stroked his neck fondly, too, and continued, “The Cook was the headmaster of The Cook School for many, many years. He also became a great cook during that time, and through experimenting, he perfected his recipes, too.
“Things went well at The Cook School. Yes, they went very well. The reputation of The Cook School was such that it was regarded as the finest co-ed residential prep school in the nation. That’s why we’re here, you and I, wearing our white shirts and ties and looking so good.” She fondly stroked his white shirt as she spoke.
“After about 10 years, The Cook School was the scene of a minor mystery; one of the boys disappeared. He was 16, just about our age. His name was Porter House. One day, he was there, and the next day, he just wasn’t. He was gone, just gone. People were very puzzled by his disappearance. However, there was one person who knew everything about the boy’s having apparently vanished.
“The Cook had become almost overly interested in the boy. Even then, the school uniform consisted of a white shirt and tie, and The Cook noticed how good Porter House looked in his white shirt and tie. He also noticed how this boy had grown and developed over the summer when he returned to school for the fall semester. The change was due to his passing from adolescence to young adulthood. And as the year progressed, the young man worked out with weights to develop and enlarge his muscles, which became more well-defined as muscles are likely to become when challenged. The Cook could see them bulging beneath the boy’s white shirt and his navy-blue dress pants that were also a part of his school uniform.
“The Cook invited Porter House for dinner at his house several times. The boy always ate too much and had fattened up a bit. The Cook noticed that, too, saw a little layer of fat over Porter House’s bulging muscles beneath his white shirt and navy pants. The Cook was struck suddenly by an idea, a brilliant idea, the kind of idea that came along once in a career, once in a lifetime. It would make his reputation as a great chef last forever—he would cook and eat Porter House.
“His idea filled his mind, his heart, his soul, his thoughts, his hunger. It became an obsession; he knew that he had to live it out even though he also knew that Porter House had to die to make his fantasy come true because he knew that he was going to cook and eat the boy, specifically while he was wearing his delicious looking white shirt and tie.
“One evening, as Porter House was eating dinner, The Cook sneaked up behind him and put a handkerchief soaked in chloroform over his mouth and nose. Porter House struggled for a few seconds then became limp. The Cook grabbed the boy’s head and wrenched it sideways, breaking his neck just as if he had been hanged.
“The Cook carefully picked up Porter House, laid him on the rack of a roasting pan resting on a nearby kitchen cart, poured olive oil on him, seasoned him, rolled the cart up to a very large oven that he often used to prepare meat dishes, slid the roasting pan into the oven, and cooked Porter House.
“Several hours later, The Cook slid the roasting pan out of the oven onto the kitchen cart. Over the course of several days, The Cook ate Porter House.”
As Kara Cook told the story of Porter House, Chuck Roastt became aware that he was developing an erection. He liked the idea of a boy getting cooked and eaten.
“The Cook had left clues that Porter House had run away from The Cook School and was untraceable. No one suspected a thing. The Cook had executed, cooked, and eaten a boy, and no one was the wiser. Porter House was wearing a white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, dress oxford cloth shirt when he was executed, cooked, and eaten, and he had been delicious. The Cook was intoxicated by the taste of boy meat. He wrote down the recipe that he had used to cook Porter House. He knew from that point on that he had to execute another boy while he was wearing a white shirt and tie, and then cook him and eat while he was wearing the same delicious white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, dress oxford cloth shirt that he had been wearing when he was executed. His “peculiar hunger”—as he called it—became an obsession, and he began to look for another boy that he could invite for dinner.”
Chuck Roastt said, “Wow!” to which Kara Cook replied, “Yes, amazing isn’t it? Wait, there’s more, more boys getting executed, cooked, and eaten, and we haven’t gotten to the good part yet … the part where you come in. Chuck Roastt asked curiously, “Where I come in? How does this involve me?” Kara Cook replied with a chuckle, “Be patient. You’ll find out! Oh, yes! You’ll find out soon enough!” She stroked his neck again, and he felt a few drops cumming from his rock-hard erection.
Kara Cook continued, “Several years later, his ‘peculiar hunger’ became too strong for The Cook to resist. He did the same thing to another boy named Robbie Ribbe. He executed him, cooked him, and ate him, again leaving clues that the boy had run away and was untraceable. And he was delicious! Then several years after that, The Cook did the same thing to a boy named Lawerence Loin, that is, he executed him, cooked him, and ate him. And again, he was delicious!”
“That’s fantastic, almost unbelievable!” said Chuck Roastt. “How do you know all this?” Kara Cook replied, “I inherited The Cooks’s diaries. The names of the boys he executed, cooked and ate; the dates that he executed them, cooked them, and ate them; and the recipes he used when he cooked them are all there! See? There are even pictures of all the boys that he executed, cooked, and ate! And if you notice, they all look like you! They’re all wearing white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirts, and school neckties! Just like you are dressed right now in your white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt and school necktie! If The Cook were here, he would want to execute you, cook you, and eat you, too! And that’s where you come in.”
“Where I come in? What do you mean?” asked Chuck Roastt warily.
Kara Cook said, “Why, I should think that would be obvious by now. I’ve waited a long time to say this: I’m going to hang you while you are wearing a white shirt and a necktie, and then I’m going to cook you and eat you while you are still wearing the delicious white shirt and tie that you were wearing when you were hanged! And you’ll be delicious! This is where our childhood games were always headed. I am going to hang you, cook you, and eat you! And you’ll be delicious! Now it is time for me to make sure that you to fulfill your special purpose at The Cook School!” Then she smiled wickedly and hungrily, and Chuck Roastt recoiled in terror as he thought about being hanged, cooked, and eaten. He wasn’t sure if she was still playing any more or if she was really going to hang him while he was wearing a white shirt and tie, and then cook him and eat him while he was still wearing the same delicious white shirt and tie that he had been wearing when he was hanged.
He was not sure at all. He warily stroked his neck with his right hand, and he felt extraordinarily hot in his white shirt and tie. He felt like he was being cooked.
