Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > AFOUE
The Disasturous Dinner
3 reviews"You're not getting away with stealing our fortune!" "What fortune?" "The one you want to steal, Moolaf!" "You have a fortune?" "You're trying to steal it!" "I am?!" Evlet sighed. "It's s...
0Unrated
I'm pretty sure you know this, but I'm telling you anyway: first impressions are always right. You might try some Limburger cheese, for example, and suddenly have a perfectly rational fear of dairy that forces you to become vegan. When the Ficdelaires first met Count Moolaf, he seemed like a casual, polite man. And they were dead right.
He was generally friendly, had the children do light chores and gave them fair allowance. And the children hated him. He enjoyed talking about his work at suppertime. He preferred that they watch less television. And he had a problem with them fighting to the death. The children were not pleased.
One night, as the children slept in their three proportionate, comfortable beds, they had a discussion as to what to do about Count Moolaf.
"We should kill him," was Emmy's idea, though that was her idea about everything.
"Too obvious," Evlet replied, threatening the room's occupants with her ever present ribbon. "Unless we used a slow-acting poison . . . Can we use slow-acting poison?"
"No," Manda muttered. "We are not going to murder anyone. Today, at least." She paused, thinking of a way to get rid of Moolaf.
"I've got it!" Manda said. "We can make it look like he's trying to steal our fortune!"
"We have a fortune?"
"Didn't our parents invest in IBM?"
"Nope."
"Dang."
Evlet stopped. "Hey . . . we're discussing economics!" The three children groaned. *
"Whatever," Manda muttered. "He's stealing our fortune, once and for all!"
- - -
One day, as Count Moolaf was out late at work, the children found a note on the table.
Dear children,
I have a few associates coming over for dinner tonight. I would appreciate if you could microwave the supper in the Tupperware in the fridge. Thanks.
"SO NOW WE'RE HIS CHEFS?!?" Evlet shrieked as Manda opened the fridge. Emmy was gnawing a table leg.
"Apparently," Manda agreed, searching for the container.
"I know what we can make! It's a pasta sauce, but I can't remember what it's called-"
"No."
"And then we can find some poison-"
"No."
"Then sprinkle a little bit of it onto the sauce-"
"I said 'no'," Manda insisted, putting the meal in the microwave. When it binged, she set the food on the table as Evlet turned around.
"FOOD!" she cried, and gobbled it all up.
"What are you doing?" Manda asked in horror.
Evlet looked up at her. "Getting energy to make the sauce. Duh."
Manda sighed. "Where's the recipe?"
Emmy chewed through the leg, and the table, its food, and Evlet came toppling down.
- - -
The three children found ingredients for the pasta sauce in the fridge, and quickly got to work. Emmy entertained her siblings with an Italian opera about shackles as Manda stirred the sauce and Evlet hunted for noodles.
Eventually the children had enough spaghetti for all of Moolaf's troupe . . . of. . . associates. As the grownups stepped through the door, Evlet and Manda dished out the food. The dish had an unusual amount of garlic, as Manda had tricked Evlet into thinking it was poison and allowed her to put as much as she wanted on the spaghetti.
Count Moolaf and his troupe ate the meal, discussing their work loudly. Suddenly, there was a loud hiss form the kitchen, and someone hissed, "Quiet!"
Evlet and Manda stormed out of the kitchen. Manda had a large, round burn on her face, as if someone had pressed a skillet to it.
"How dare you burn my sister?!" Evlet yelled.
Moolaf gasped. "Oh, no! We need some ice! In fact," he added, slightly smiling, "would you like some ice for that burn?"
Evlet's jaw dropped, but Manda didn't get the joke. "You're not getting away with stealing our fortune!"
"What fortune?"
"The one you want to steal, Moolaf!"
"You have a fortune?"
"You're trying to steal it!"
"I am?!"
Evlet sighed. "It's simple, really. We have a pwnful fortune, and you want to steal it. End of story."
Moolaf nodded, confused. His associates kept eating as if nothing had happened. After they left, Moolaf got up and towered over the three children. "I'll get my filthy hands on your fortune if it's the last thing I do."
The children gasped and hurried up to their room.
"Did we . . . did we do anything to stop Count Moolaf from conceivably stealing our fortune?"
"No."
"Let's go see Raely."
* Ack! Economics!
He was generally friendly, had the children do light chores and gave them fair allowance. And the children hated him. He enjoyed talking about his work at suppertime. He preferred that they watch less television. And he had a problem with them fighting to the death. The children were not pleased.
One night, as the children slept in their three proportionate, comfortable beds, they had a discussion as to what to do about Count Moolaf.
"We should kill him," was Emmy's idea, though that was her idea about everything.
"Too obvious," Evlet replied, threatening the room's occupants with her ever present ribbon. "Unless we used a slow-acting poison . . . Can we use slow-acting poison?"
"No," Manda muttered. "We are not going to murder anyone. Today, at least." She paused, thinking of a way to get rid of Moolaf.
"I've got it!" Manda said. "We can make it look like he's trying to steal our fortune!"
"We have a fortune?"
"Didn't our parents invest in IBM?"
"Nope."
"Dang."
Evlet stopped. "Hey . . . we're discussing economics!" The three children groaned. *
"Whatever," Manda muttered. "He's stealing our fortune, once and for all!"
- - -
One day, as Count Moolaf was out late at work, the children found a note on the table.
Dear children,
I have a few associates coming over for dinner tonight. I would appreciate if you could microwave the supper in the Tupperware in the fridge. Thanks.
"SO NOW WE'RE HIS CHEFS?!?" Evlet shrieked as Manda opened the fridge. Emmy was gnawing a table leg.
"Apparently," Manda agreed, searching for the container.
"I know what we can make! It's a pasta sauce, but I can't remember what it's called-"
"No."
"And then we can find some poison-"
"No."
"Then sprinkle a little bit of it onto the sauce-"
"I said 'no'," Manda insisted, putting the meal in the microwave. When it binged, she set the food on the table as Evlet turned around.
"FOOD!" she cried, and gobbled it all up.
"What are you doing?" Manda asked in horror.
Evlet looked up at her. "Getting energy to make the sauce. Duh."
Manda sighed. "Where's the recipe?"
Emmy chewed through the leg, and the table, its food, and Evlet came toppling down.
- - -
The three children found ingredients for the pasta sauce in the fridge, and quickly got to work. Emmy entertained her siblings with an Italian opera about shackles as Manda stirred the sauce and Evlet hunted for noodles.
Eventually the children had enough spaghetti for all of Moolaf's troupe . . . of. . . associates. As the grownups stepped through the door, Evlet and Manda dished out the food. The dish had an unusual amount of garlic, as Manda had tricked Evlet into thinking it was poison and allowed her to put as much as she wanted on the spaghetti.
Count Moolaf and his troupe ate the meal, discussing their work loudly. Suddenly, there was a loud hiss form the kitchen, and someone hissed, "Quiet!"
Evlet and Manda stormed out of the kitchen. Manda had a large, round burn on her face, as if someone had pressed a skillet to it.
"How dare you burn my sister?!" Evlet yelled.
Moolaf gasped. "Oh, no! We need some ice! In fact," he added, slightly smiling, "would you like some ice for that burn?"
Evlet's jaw dropped, but Manda didn't get the joke. "You're not getting away with stealing our fortune!"
"What fortune?"
"The one you want to steal, Moolaf!"
"You have a fortune?"
"You're trying to steal it!"
"I am?!"
Evlet sighed. "It's simple, really. We have a pwnful fortune, and you want to steal it. End of story."
Moolaf nodded, confused. His associates kept eating as if nothing had happened. After they left, Moolaf got up and towered over the three children. "I'll get my filthy hands on your fortune if it's the last thing I do."
The children gasped and hurried up to their room.
"Did we . . . did we do anything to stop Count Moolaf from conceivably stealing our fortune?"
"No."
"Let's go see Raely."
* Ack! Economics!
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