Title: Overreaction
Notes: My response to The New York Times' suggestion to adding peas to guacamole and people having a conniption over it. So today at dinner I added peas to my guac on a tortilla and ate. Good, but otherwise it tastes absolutely no different than it does without them.

"What…What is this?" Kael'thas mixed the contents of the dip with the spoon, leaned forward and peered into it. "Are those…?" His eyes shot open. "No…no! It can't be!"

Sylvanas sighed and studied the dish disinterestedly. "Yes, Kael'thas, they're exactly what you don't want them to be."

"It's absurd! Insane! No person in their right mind would ruin such a marvelous dish!"

"Well apparently our resident 'chef' had a little creative spark go off in that dumb brain of his."

"You don't put peas in guacamole! You just can't!" The elf slammed a fist against the table, making the cutlery rattle and bounce. "That's like eating cucumbers with the seeds still in them!"

"You have a problem with canned peas…but not the diced tomatoes? Or the chopped onions?" She glanced at the red cubes of tomatoes—which took on the appearance of mashed paste at this point—and white bits of onions.

"That's different! Those are staples! You cannot make the quintessential dip if you don't have one or the other or both! But this? This is abhorrent! This…slop"—He lifted the spoon of the green stuff—and the green balls that were peas—up to his face for Sylvanas to have a better look—"taints the very purity that is fresh Nexus guacamole!"

"Kael'thas, they're peas."

"They are completely unnecessary!" Now he slammed both hands flat on the table, rising so quickly he knocked the chair he was sitting in backward. He jabbed a finger at the innocent granite bowl containing the guac. "This, right here, is the textbook definition of character defamation!"

Sylvanas scoffed. "What's the matter? I thought you reveled in setbacks. Why, I thought you were a man's man!"

"I am indeed a manly man! A paragon among hardworking elves tried and true!"

"Then suck it up and eat the damn things. Or give it to Tyrande." She scowled nastily. "Darkness knows that…bounciness…has to come from somewhere…."

He sputtered indignantly. "Absolutely not! I will not denigrate myself to such…peasantry!" To the doors leading into the kitchens, he cried, "Stitches! STITCHES! Stitches, come out here this instant!"

The abomination did, pushing his massive girth through the tight space with a spot of difficulty. The chef's hat and apron were dirty and singed beyond any recognition as to what its original color was, but thankfully the latter covered up the grotesque mouth in place of his gut. A pair of raw sausage links wrapped around his neck like a shawl, bouncing with each lumbering step he took. In one hand he carried a meat cleaver and in the other a great big leg of…Sylvanas hoped it came from a buck. Or the fabled Cow King Old Man Deckard always prattled on about. From the third arm protruding from his back was a steaming skillet holding two eggs sunny side up; if he tipped the pan any further, they would fall to the floor and splatter.

The…facsimile of a mustache on his face twitched as he spoke. "What blood elf want?" he asked.

"Listen well and listen good!" said Kael'thas. "There are peas in my guacamole! I want to exchange this dish for one without!"

Stitches blinked owlishly at the little bowl. Then he blinked back at Kael'thas. "You no like Stitches's food?"

"Food? This is prison grub! This is torture! I have never heard of someone putting peas in a dip! It's unfathomable! Unconscionable!"

"Oh give me a break," Sylvanas muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"I deserve cuisine befitting my station as the Prince of Quel'Thalas! The finest food on this side of this gods-forsaken Nexus! And if I cannot receive a dish to sate my palate, then I want my money back. Every gold, silver, and copper piece galore! I will not take 'no' for an answer!"

Stitches blinked again. "Have to," he said.

Now it was Kael'thas's turn to blink. "Wh-What?" he sputtered. Then, indignantly, "What do you mean I 'have to?!' I'm a paid customer! The customer is always right, you brute!"

"Monies go to funding." He shook the leg of unidentifiable meat once. "Half."

"Towards what?!"

Realization dawned on Sylvanas. She groaned and slapped the heel of one hand to her forehead. "Goddammit, Valla!" she grumbled under her breath.

"Petting zoo!" Stitches exclaimed happily, yellow, rotten teeth spreading in a cheek-tugging grin. "Horsey corral! Munchies and juices for the animals! Brushes an' shampoo for da baths an' toys ta play with! And best of all—"

"Best of all…?" Kael'thas ventured. Sylvanas had never seen his ears—any elf's ears, actually—droop so low.

"SWIMMING POOL! Bwahahahahaharrrr!" Apparently the ties on the apron weren't secured properly, so when his great belly shook with that growling, deep-throated laughter it fell away, exposing coils of purple-green intestines and the bleached birdcage that was his ribs.

Kael'thas's face took on a sickly shade of green, the same color as the peas. He averted his gaze. "Wh-What…What about the peas then?" he asked thickly. "I don't want to eat them…but I'd rather not see them go to waste. Even I know better than that."

"That simple!" Stitches dropped the meat on the table—right in front of Sylvanas, who jumped—and snatched the bowl of guacamole. He brought it up to his face. "Bon appeti…Bon appa…Bon appy-teet…Bon…Bah, fuhgeddit! LET'S EAT!" He opened his mouth all the way and tossed the guac, bowl and all, inside. Sylvanas turned away, disgusted. He didn't even chew; he swallowed the whole thing! And being an undead creation, whatever he ate wouldn't digest. So, in a couple hours, that meant it wouldn't come out through the…backdoor…but….

Kael'thas knew, too. He managed to force out a very weak "M-Merely a setback" before he clapped a hand over his own mouth and fled the room.

Stitches stared at the door he tackled through swing shut with a not so gentle slam. After a moment of idleness, perhaps with thoughts going through that walnut called a brain, he asked Sylvanas, "What Stitches do?"

"Nothing. You did the right thing." As gross and utterly wrong as it was; Kael'thas was an obnoxious little drama queen. Am I ever so glad you never took the throne.

Stitches grinned. "Thanks, elf lady! Eh, you no want that?" He gestured with the cleaver the unfinished, and untouched, plates of food.

"I don't eat." Eating was for the living, and living was for suckers. "Give it to Butch or something. You know, waste not, want not."

"Oh. Okay. Have nice day." He waddled off, the grounding quaking slightly with each step.

"Hey!" Sylvanas called after him. "Take this thing with you!" She indicated the leg on the table.

"Ah. Sorry." He came trundling back and retrieved it. "Have nice day again." He gave her an awkward, shuffling bow that made it look like he didn't move at all, and once more he went on his merry way. The apron woefully remained on the floor.

Sylvanas grimaced at the bloody, greasy stain left behind on what was once clean linen. "I'm never coming here again."