This game made me regret things I didn't know I could regret. Like living or having the ability to modify my culinary palette. The absolutely ghastly, dreadful-looking, and smelling dishes I have produced while trying to make my dishes better made me report myself to the World Health Organisation, only to be stopped by my own dish that has become sentient.

I managed to escape "it" and barricade myself in my storage room. A few days have gone by with my quickly diminishing food supply made up of bread and pickled eggs, which were meant for emergencies just like this. The worst part is that "their" numbers are growing, but on the bright side, I have become immune to the abhorrent smell radiating through my house.

Day 6. The food has run out; I have to get to the refrigerator, even if it means violence against my spine-chilling food creatures. Day 7. After not a lot of preparation, I'm ready to, if I have to, brutally get myself through to the kitchen. After slowly disassembling the barricade, I can't see any of "them" but there are tons of traces, not to mention the barbarous smell. I have been stealthily crawling to the kitchen for what feels like an eternity, but finally, I am within 5 meters of the refrigerator. The problem is that there are tons of "them" in the living room, so I have to be careful. I quietly nudged myself to the refrigerator and excitedly opened it, and to my horror, there was no food. I let out a hopeless sigh, which caught the attention of the "horde". I looked back to make my escape route, and then I saw "it" the biggest among them all. A chill went through my body while I hurriedly pulled out my trusty metal bar that I pulled from one of the shelves in the storage room. I have no choice but to viciously plough myself through the "horde".

While doing so, I shoved a few into my oven and turned it on, hoping it would kill them, but suddenly I felt a shock wave coming from the oven, rendering all of "them" immobile, even the biggest among them. A couple of seconds went by, and "they" started moving. I got ready to battle, but they didn't attack; instead, they went closer to the oven, and "BHFOO" my oven's door flew off with the force of at least a few dozen Shrek farts. But then it hit me, a smell so powerful that even "they" melted; it was exceedingly rebarbative, so otherworldly, so heinously gruesome that I have nightmares about it to this day. But the battle was over.

Life is going excellently, and while the house got demolished and my left arm got bitten off in the battle, I am not going to let that bring me down. I got a new home and started up a restaurant, which I run single-handedly, no pun intended. I make the only thing I ever knew how to make: burgers. You should come to visit sometime, the place is called Benny's Burger Bar, named after me, of course. But that's really it; have a great culinary experience!