5… 4… 3…! 2…!! 1…!!! Like that my fate was sealed; it was up to the judges who won the $60,000 grand prize. Who wins? Will i finally get better housing for my family with this cash money prize?
After a word from our sponsors:
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this is a test to see what this website is capable of, I may plug donation links, amazon wishlists, books or music albums we’ve written in the future, I think this blog is too young for that
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“Jenni, you’re up next. Your waygu steak burger flínlìngliön was perfectly seasoned, the bun was toasted with purple truffle garlic butter to perfection, but it was kinda raw and made me sick…” the judge looked very unwell, though maybe a bit acted up on camera for the TV. It was medium rare! I had a thermometer!! “And you just don’t have the cut for this competition, so now – You. Are. CUT!”
Kinda raw… Kinda; raw. Kind-a, raw – kin-
“Hon, are you okay? that hot dog is cooked… it’s solid black…”
Kinda raw… Kinda; raw. Kind-a, raw – kin-
“Hon, we’re getting worried about your mental health after that cooking show, you’re kind of burning everything you cook.”
Kinda RAW… Kinda; RAW. Kind–a, RAW – kin-
“Please don’t arrest Jenni, she was just cooking food, she’s going through grief and mental health issues.”
The officer standing in front of a wet char remains of a building, firemen still unhooking the hose: “If she needs help we’ll take her to the mental hospital.” he pitties the younger girl curled in the corner crying.
in the mental hospital they’re doing arts and crafts with apple juice (sorry; outa’ orange today, buddy.) Jenni is having a therapist step her to the side: “but the important part about being on the cooking show is that you got to go!”
Jenni begins to cry: “You don’t understand… The cooking show was all in my goddamn head!!!”
her Sactuary of Dissociation 
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