"Oh my heavens, what have I done," Dweezil exclaimed in mock horror as he accidentally on purpose knocked the entire contents of the Hotter Than Hell Jabenero Pepper can into his spice mix. He then looked over at Squig, who now wearing his chef's hat, was sulking in the corner.
"Oh Sous Chef Squigman, would you be so kind as turn on the burner under the cast iron pan?" He asked, innocently.
"Whatever Chef Dweezil," Squig grumbled as he walked over to the oven and turned on the burner.
The minute Squig's back was turned, Dweezil quickly mixed in the pepper and began preparing his cicadas. First he speared one, dipped it into the milk, and then chuckling manically to himself, rolled it in the spice mixture. In no time, all of his cicadas were prepared and ready to go into the pan.
"Sous Chef," he called out sweetly, "would you be so kind as to drop the cicadas into the hot oil. But I want you to be very careful when you do it," he continued looking benignly over at Squig," because the oil is hot and I wouldn't want you to get a nasty burn."
Feeling extremely ill used and put upon, Squig marched over, hopped on the counter, grabbed the cicadas and walking over to the stove dumped them in the oil,.
"Oh nicely done." Dweezil beamed over at Squig. "You know, since you're doing such a good job, I think I'm going to let you taste one, before I plate the rest. How does that sound?
"Great. Is there anything else I can help you with, Chef. Anything at all? I'm right here at your disposal. Just name it and I'll do it."
"No, no. I've got it under control. All we have to do is wait until the timer goes off and then you may take the cicadas out of the oil and place them on that plate." He smiled, indicating a festive blue plate sitting on top of the oven.
Ding went the timer and Dweezil, hopping off the counter, turned off the burner. Looking up at Squig he instructed, "Now one by one, take the cicadas out of the oil and put them on the plate. But do be careful, they will be hot."
Not needing to be told twice Squig speared each cicada, now crispy and tinted a fiery shade of red, and carefully stacked them on the plate.
"You know," Dweezil said sweetly, drumming his claws on the floor, "You did such a good job, you don't have to stop at one cicada. You can have as many as you can stuff in your mouth."
Squig immediately speared four cicadas and crammed them in his mouth. His eyes bulged, his mouth was on fire and he spit the cicada bits everywhere, as he ran in circles looking for water.
"I know they're delicious, but there really isn't any need to dance around." Dweezil chuckled.
"Water," Squig croaked.
"This should cool you down," Dweezil said, jumping on to the sink, and turning on the tap sprayed Squig in the face with cold water.
"In my mouth, in my mouth, not on my face," Squig cried opening his mouth.
And with that Dweezil turned the water on full force and let Squig have it, knocking him off the counter and onto the floor. "My, my," he said looking down at his soaking wet friend, "you seem to have lost your hat. I guess your job as sous chef is over. Turning toward the camera, he grinned and said, when it doubt, you can always alter your recipe from crispy fried cicada to fire cracker cicada, which in this instance has done the job quite effectively."
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Sunday, May 19, 2013
In the Kitchen with Dweezil and Squig Part 3
Squig wiped his face, adjusted his hat and snuck quietly back into the kitchen. With any luck at all Dweezil would have been so busy making an ass out of himself, he wouldn't have noticed his absence. But that was not the case.
"Just where have you been Sous Chef Sqigman," Dweezil demanded.
"Well Chef Dweezil, I was in the er hum, litter box. That's it. I was in the litter box. You know when nature calls, a cat's got to do, what a cat's got to do."
"Stay right where you are," Do not move a muscle until we have paw inspection." He commanded hopping off the counter.
"Paw inspection?" Squig questioned.
"Yes, paw inspection. You cannot come into a sanitary environment with bathroom bits clinging to your paws. Now stick them up where I can see them and we'll see if you can come any closer to the food." He grabbed one of Squig's paws and carefully inspected it. Then he did the same for the rest. Assuring himself that Squig's paws were clean enough, he hopped back on the counter and began again.
"Oh yes, where was I." he began drumming his paws on the counter. When cooking cicada, you want the product to be as fresh as possible, and that means they must be alive. However, " he said, nodding his head for emphasis, "we here at Chez Dweezil believe in being humane, so these cicadas have been in the refrigerator for just enough time to become comatose."
He extended a claw and continued. "Now we will pith the cicada, humanely killing it. Then we will rip off it's head and remove it's wings and lay it on this plate until we have finished the rest."
Squig's head was swimming, his stomach was growling. He had to get to those cicadas. He thought about it as he watched Dweezil add bug after bug to the growing pile. And then he had a plan. Smiling he wheedled in a snarky and totally fake tone of voice, "Oh Chef Dweezil can I assist you in your preparations? I've been watching everything you did and I know I can do it, if you just give me a chance. Isn't there another step you could be doing while I prepare the prey, I mean ingredient's.?"
Dweezil hesitated, he instinctively knew that Squig was up to something, but he did have more preparations and if Squig could finish off the remaining cicadas, they would be closer to completing the dish. So, against his better judgement, he said, "Come on up, but remember to be sanitary and humane."
"Oh, I'll be very humane, very humane," Squig whispered as he launched himself onto the counter and extending a claw, he speared the cicada. Dweezil watched in shocked horror as Squig popped the bug in his mouth and began to chew. He was eating the whole thing, bit by bit until only the red eyed head was sticking out of his mouth.
"Sous chef Squigman," he roared, "What do you think you're doing?
"Chew, chomp, chew, gulp, swallow" he responded, and taking one last bite, finished off the cicada. After wiping off his mouth with his paw, he smiled over at Dweezil and said, "Why Chef Dweezil, I'm enjoying a cicadacycle, Just the tasty treat a cat wants on a warm spring afternoon."
"Why you perverse little snake," DweezIl hissed as he knocked him off the counter. "I aught to come down there and smack you from now until tomorrow."
"Chef Dweezil, look. You've knocked off my hat. Oh my however will I appear in the role of the Sous Chef without it.?"
And with that, Dweezil leaped off the counter, and began smacking Squig around the room,.
TO BE CONTINUED
"Just where have you been Sous Chef Sqigman," Dweezil demanded.
"Well Chef Dweezil, I was in the er hum, litter box. That's it. I was in the litter box. You know when nature calls, a cat's got to do, what a cat's got to do."
"Stay right where you are," Do not move a muscle until we have paw inspection." He commanded hopping off the counter.
"Paw inspection?" Squig questioned.
"Yes, paw inspection. You cannot come into a sanitary environment with bathroom bits clinging to your paws. Now stick them up where I can see them and we'll see if you can come any closer to the food." He grabbed one of Squig's paws and carefully inspected it. Then he did the same for the rest. Assuring himself that Squig's paws were clean enough, he hopped back on the counter and began again.
"Oh yes, where was I." he began drumming his paws on the counter. When cooking cicada, you want the product to be as fresh as possible, and that means they must be alive. However, " he said, nodding his head for emphasis, "we here at Chez Dweezil believe in being humane, so these cicadas have been in the refrigerator for just enough time to become comatose."
He extended a claw and continued. "Now we will pith the cicada, humanely killing it. Then we will rip off it's head and remove it's wings and lay it on this plate until we have finished the rest."
Squig's head was swimming, his stomach was growling. He had to get to those cicadas. He thought about it as he watched Dweezil add bug after bug to the growing pile. And then he had a plan. Smiling he wheedled in a snarky and totally fake tone of voice, "Oh Chef Dweezil can I assist you in your preparations? I've been watching everything you did and I know I can do it, if you just give me a chance. Isn't there another step you could be doing while I prepare the prey, I mean ingredient's.?"
Dweezil hesitated, he instinctively knew that Squig was up to something, but he did have more preparations and if Squig could finish off the remaining cicadas, they would be closer to completing the dish. So, against his better judgement, he said, "Come on up, but remember to be sanitary and humane."
"Oh, I'll be very humane, very humane," Squig whispered as he launched himself onto the counter and extending a claw, he speared the cicada. Dweezil watched in shocked horror as Squig popped the bug in his mouth and began to chew. He was eating the whole thing, bit by bit until only the red eyed head was sticking out of his mouth.
"Sous chef Squigman," he roared, "What do you think you're doing?
"Chew, chomp, chew, gulp, swallow" he responded, and taking one last bite, finished off the cicada. After wiping off his mouth with his paw, he smiled over at Dweezil and said, "Why Chef Dweezil, I'm enjoying a cicadacycle, Just the tasty treat a cat wants on a warm spring afternoon."
"Why you perverse little snake," DweezIl hissed as he knocked him off the counter. "I aught to come down there and smack you from now until tomorrow."
"Chef Dweezil, look. You've knocked off my hat. Oh my however will I appear in the role of the Sous Chef without it.?"
And with that, Dweezil leaped off the counter, and began smacking Squig around the room,.
TO BE CONTINUED
Sunday, May 12, 2013
In the Kitchen with Dweezil and Squig Part 2
Dweezil straightened his apron, adjusted his chef's hat, and smiling opened his paws wide and said, "Welcome, welcome to Chez Dweezil, a small and rustic establishment nestled deep in the heart of horse country, Maryland."
Squig sat down in shock. Dweezil had obviously lost his mind. This wasn't a small and rustic establishment nestled in the heart of horse country, Maryland. This was Maia's kitchen and the only place it was nestled was Maia's house. This was bad, really bad. What if there were cameras rolling and his best friend, dressed up like some kind of a nut, was making a fool out of himself in front of the whole world. He bet there were carefully hidden camera's around someplace. Whoever had helped him set this up had obviously also placed Internet camera in the kitchen. He had to do something fast, but what.
Trying not to alert Dweezil, who was now pontificating about something or other, he walked backwards out of the kitchen and into the hall. Sitting down and extending a claw, he picked around until he felt the loose floor board. Pressing on it, it sprang open and inside the space was a small book. A secret book full of all the helpful hints a cat would need throughout his life. Grabbing it, he opened and started scanning the table of contents.
"How to get rid of unwelcome rodents. Teaching your kittens about the litter box. Dealing with humans parts 1 through 800. Creating a human friendly environment." Squig read softly to himself. This was not helpful. Where was what to do when your best friend had lost it. It had to be in here somewhere, he just had to keep looking.
He stopped momentarily to listen to what Dweezil was up to now and heard him say, "We here at Chez Dweezil believe in only fixing what is locally in season and today since mother nature has blessed us with this marvelous abundance, we are going to fix crispy fried cicada.
As Squig heard the word, cicada, his eyes opened wide, he placed the book back in its hiding place and began to salivate.
TO BE CONTINUED
Squig sat down in shock. Dweezil had obviously lost his mind. This wasn't a small and rustic establishment nestled in the heart of horse country, Maryland. This was Maia's kitchen and the only place it was nestled was Maia's house. This was bad, really bad. What if there were cameras rolling and his best friend, dressed up like some kind of a nut, was making a fool out of himself in front of the whole world. He bet there were carefully hidden camera's around someplace. Whoever had helped him set this up had obviously also placed Internet camera in the kitchen. He had to do something fast, but what.
Trying not to alert Dweezil, who was now pontificating about something or other, he walked backwards out of the kitchen and into the hall. Sitting down and extending a claw, he picked around until he felt the loose floor board. Pressing on it, it sprang open and inside the space was a small book. A secret book full of all the helpful hints a cat would need throughout his life. Grabbing it, he opened and started scanning the table of contents.
"How to get rid of unwelcome rodents. Teaching your kittens about the litter box. Dealing with humans parts 1 through 800. Creating a human friendly environment." Squig read softly to himself. This was not helpful. Where was what to do when your best friend had lost it. It had to be in here somewhere, he just had to keep looking.
He stopped momentarily to listen to what Dweezil was up to now and heard him say, "We here at Chez Dweezil believe in only fixing what is locally in season and today since mother nature has blessed us with this marvelous abundance, we are going to fix crispy fried cicada.
As Squig heard the word, cicada, his eyes opened wide, he placed the book back in its hiding place and began to salivate.
TO BE CONTINUED
Friday, May 10, 2013
Dweezil's Opinion of Squig's Music Video
A group of talentless tatooed buffoons seranading half dressed bimbos. Nice Squigman, very nice.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
In the Kitchen with Dweezil and Squig
Dweezil went into the kitchen in a high state of anticipation. He hopped on the counter and inspected everything carefully. All was as it should be, the necessary spices and liquids were in their respective bowls and in the big ceramic blue bowl he was pleased to notice that the main ingredient had been chilled until comatose.
Hopping off the counter, he next went over to the oven and leaping on it saw that the large cast iron pan had just the right amount of oil in it. Everything, was in every way, just perfect.
He sighed, a pleasurable sigh and jumping down from the top of the oven, opened the lowest drawer and there, as expected, were a small chef's apron and two cat sized chef's hats. He pulled out the apron and put it on, noticing with a great deal of satisfaction that the words, "Chez Dweezil," were emblazoned on the front. He then fluffed out his chef's hat and put it on.
"Everything's ready and it's going to be just perfect," he thought to himself, almost purring with delight.
"What have you done," Squig demanded as he came into the kitchen. "You had to have help. You couldn't have done this by yourself. What are you doing, and why are you wearing that get up?
"Put on the hat," Dweezil commanded, pointing to the other cat sized chef's hat.
"I will not." Squig said, narrowing his eyes and sitting down.
"Put on the hat," he repeated calmly. "In this episode, you are appearing in the role of the sous chef and sous chef's where hats. Therefore, so are you."
"No," Squig replied, nastily,"In this episode, I am appearing in the role of the cat and cats do not wear hats."
"Let me be quite clear about this," Dweezil explained, "In this episode you are appearing in the role of the sous chef and you are going to wear that hat."
"No, in this episode, I am appearing in the role of the hatless cat, and you obviously are appearing in the role of the nut. The ahh, umm, iii,"
"What?" Dweezil asked sweetly, "Having trouble coming up with type of nut. Let me help." Extending a claw and patting it against his cheek, he continued, "Am I a wing nut? No, what about a macadamia nut, or how about a cashew? Then there's always, almonds or peanuts, and I do believe that acorns are considered nuts. Am I appearing in the role of the acorn?"
"No," Squig screamed. "You are appearing in the role of the nut who thinks he's Brad Pitt or President Obama."
"That may be." Dweezil answered calmly walking over to Squig, "But you are appearing in the role of sous chef and you are going to wear this hat." And with that, he crammed the hat on the top of Squig's head.
Walking away, he looked over his shoulder and said, "Oh by the way, since I am the chef and you are the sous chef, you will address me as Chef, or Chef Dweezil. Got it.?"
"Whatever, " Squig grumbled.
"What did you say, Sous Chef Squigman," Dweezil asked narrowing his eyes and flicking his tail.
"Yes sir, Chef Dweezil," Squig replied in a very flat tone of voice.
"Good."
TO BE CONTINUED
Hopping off the counter, he next went over to the oven and leaping on it saw that the large cast iron pan had just the right amount of oil in it. Everything, was in every way, just perfect.
He sighed, a pleasurable sigh and jumping down from the top of the oven, opened the lowest drawer and there, as expected, were a small chef's apron and two cat sized chef's hats. He pulled out the apron and put it on, noticing with a great deal of satisfaction that the words, "Chez Dweezil," were emblazoned on the front. He then fluffed out his chef's hat and put it on.
"Everything's ready and it's going to be just perfect," he thought to himself, almost purring with delight.
"What have you done," Squig demanded as he came into the kitchen. "You had to have help. You couldn't have done this by yourself. What are you doing, and why are you wearing that get up?
"Put on the hat," Dweezil commanded, pointing to the other cat sized chef's hat.
"I will not." Squig said, narrowing his eyes and sitting down.
"Put on the hat," he repeated calmly. "In this episode, you are appearing in the role of the sous chef and sous chef's where hats. Therefore, so are you."
"No," Squig replied, nastily,"In this episode, I am appearing in the role of the cat and cats do not wear hats."
"Let me be quite clear about this," Dweezil explained, "In this episode you are appearing in the role of the sous chef and you are going to wear that hat."
"No, in this episode, I am appearing in the role of the hatless cat, and you obviously are appearing in the role of the nut. The ahh, umm, iii,"
"What?" Dweezil asked sweetly, "Having trouble coming up with type of nut. Let me help." Extending a claw and patting it against his cheek, he continued, "Am I a wing nut? No, what about a macadamia nut, or how about a cashew? Then there's always, almonds or peanuts, and I do believe that acorns are considered nuts. Am I appearing in the role of the acorn?"
"No," Squig screamed. "You are appearing in the role of the nut who thinks he's Brad Pitt or President Obama."
"That may be." Dweezil answered calmly walking over to Squig, "But you are appearing in the role of sous chef and you are going to wear this hat." And with that, he crammed the hat on the top of Squig's head.
Walking away, he looked over his shoulder and said, "Oh by the way, since I am the chef and you are the sous chef, you will address me as Chef, or Chef Dweezil. Got it.?"
"Whatever, " Squig grumbled.
"What did you say, Sous Chef Squigman," Dweezil asked narrowing his eyes and flicking his tail.
"Yes sir, Chef Dweezil," Squig replied in a very flat tone of voice.
"Good."
TO BE CONTINUED
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