CHAPTER ONE: The Ingredients Of FateMature

What is a man? What is hunger? A man made of spaghetti and meatballs discovers a dark pasta conspiracy to control the world and along the way learns what it means to live... and maybe... to love?

An Italian man with a thick mustache and chef's hat tottered down a somber, musty alley in Little Italy, Tarantella Napolitana playing faintly in the distance. A cagey, suspicious glance around preceded a large sniff. "Ahh, odori deliziosa!" he emphatically muttered in a loud whisper. He adjusted his neckerchief and slung his pizza box aside before squatting before a manhole cover. He grunted and a metallic scrape echoed as he dragged the cover to the side. 

As the chef climbed down the ladder, pizza box slung around his back, he felt comforting warmth and the pleasant aroma of pasta... followed by the screams of a man being lowered into a giant pasta bowl.

"You're just in time. Bring me the ingredients. The recipe is almost complete." Said a mad scientist to the chef. The chef presented the pizza box, opening it with a respectful bow. The scientist plucked out two hearty meatballs with a pair of tongs. "It smells like a most hearty dish, what's your secret?" Asked the mad scientist. 

"You gotta use lotsa mozzarelli, ehhh!" explained the chef. 

In the background, the man's screams turned into gargles as he lowered into the boiling stew. The mad scientist sprinkled something on the meatballs. "Go ahead, have a taste" the mad scientist encouraged the chef, who eagerly shoved one of the balls into his mouth. "Mama Mia! That's-a SPICY MEAT-BALL!" Stereotyped the chef. 

The scientist man then turned to the pasta concoction and dropped the remaining meatballs in, shaking the box vigorously, and cackling maniacally. The giant pot holding the pasta began to shake violently, churning gobs of tomato sauce onto the concrete floor. The lights began to flicker. The bats fluttered in confusion. The dogs began to bark. A woman fainted. Lightning strike. Wolf howl. Darkness. Silence

And then, a sloppy, noodly noise. "I'm-a scared" said the chef, holding onto the mad scientist. With a scratch, the scientist lit a flare, the red blaze illuminating the immediate darkness.

The chef noticed a faint movement, and then pointed out something with a spatula. "What's-a that? Is that an arm... or... spaghetti?" asked the chef, to which the mad scientist replied in all caps: 


The End

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