Okay, first off I'll like to say:

DJINN! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!

This; ::cough:: is a parody of Ne'er So Fatal [ http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=870477 ] by Djinn, a beautifully written Vicious fic that you really really have to read. It is also essential to reading this [which basically means ya got to read hers, or you wouldn't know what the fook is going on], which is pretty funny actually. So go and read and comment.

Coming off that, if you've already read, please proceed. I got this idea when Djinn was discussing how the part about shopping in the fic description gave her images of Vicious with a vegetable basket in his hands with a radish sticking out of it and holding a cabbage. Following this [without her knowing], I completely warped her fic. It follows most of the sequencing of her fic. It's a lot shorter, but it contains the important parts. I hope you find it enjoyable and funny enough. Let's go!

[Hold it! This is Djinn, and I just have to say to anyone who might be feeling inclined to righteousness, yes, she has my blessings to do this. ^^;;]


It's Fatal All Right

The feel of the list in my hand is strange, the basket even stranger. It's been a long time since I've done this.

I looked around, and picked up a magazine.

"Doing a little heavy reading tonight, eh?" A supermarket employee smirks.

It's obvious that the magazine wouldn't even make for an hour anyway.

I hate friendly workers.

I contemplate pulling out my katana and slicing the cabbage apart to check whether it's really fresh. I can't really tell if it's fresh by the outside. I raise my katana and slash the head of cabbage into half.

Fresh. I pick it up and place it in my basket, going along again.

I want to cook for you again. Not the cabbage, but if need be, I'll use the freshest one.

I like to think that I was able to slice your shiitake mushrooms like I did to the cabbage. You liked kebabs, I know. And you always loved shiitake mushrooms.

I must be feeling reflective today - that's even stranger than the feeling of the basket. Then I remember.

I hate that smile.

That fake smile that you gave me when I burnt your kebabs. You always tried to make me believe that you liked it. I'm not that stupid.

It was all a different story when Julia started to cook. You always gave her that sweet smile, forgetting all about my burnt kebabs.

But I suppose I did love Julia.

She gave me that smile when I ruined her salad too.

And both of you left me, left the terrible chef in the dark. You ran away from me. With her.

You really hate my cooking, don't you?

A can just rolled to my feet. And another.

"Hey mister!" A little girl waved. "Pass me the canned salmon, wouldja?"

I kicked one of the cans back. She looked offended.

"Geez mister, can't you tell the difference between canned sardines and canned salmon?!"

Can't I tell the difference...?

Maybe I was able to, a long time ago...

When I mixed the beef and pineapples and the shiitake mushroom...

Mushrooms are made for cooking...

"I'll cook for you, Spike Spiegel. I'll cook for you."

- and give you the sodium carbonate after.

END