The noodle incident. Name names.
[AN: The whole point of Noodle Incidents is you never find out exactly what happened. See the Trope Page. Grats, you made this author scream in anguish.]
Sherlock had separated them. Rael, at least, got a hot meal and something to occupy his hands. “So. What do you know?”
“Admittedly, not a lot,” said Rael, getting his credentials straight right off the bat. “I’m not a historian. I only study the elements of Terran culture that cross my path on a frequent basis. And… well… Shayde is a strange occurrence magnet. This sort of thing very quicky becomes background noise.”
“It’s not background noise when a larger portion of the Elemeno is covered in noodles,” said Sherlock.
“I had barely enough warning before it -ah- landed.”
“Landed,” echoed Sherlock.
“Apparently, bubble realities land,” said Rael. “And we found ourselves in a kitchen that was, to my best guess, designed by M. C. Escher and H. P. Lovecraft.”
“A kitchen.”
“Yes. The bubble reality also included what looked to be an illegally augmented wolf, a robot with the intelligence of a standard Augment, the -uh- squid in the environment suit. I mentioned him previously.”
“it’s in my growing file,” sighed Sherlock. “Do go on.”
“There was also a small child of about seven and a sometimes-tiger. I think.”
“Sometimes… tiger.”
“It spent half its time as a plush toy. The other half, it stood in an upright stance and acted like… a human.”
“And where do the noodles come in?”
“There was a voice. It came from… everywhere. It shouted, ‘Ready, Set, Cook’ and then all this… pasta… came down. Shayde started knitting it. The kid was trying something with ketchup and pepperoni. The other three were alternately running away or trying to black-box the -uh- noodle font. And… since it was pooling around my calves…”
“You endeavoured to eat it,” concluded Sherlock.
“Yes.” Rael sighed and rubbed his temple. “Once Shayde finished knitting a kein bottle–”
“Knitting… a klein bottle…”
“Are you doubting my memory?” challenged Rael.
“How does one knit a klein bottle?”
“In two-two rib, apparently….” Rael coughed. “Once it was finished, the reality burst and all trapped individuals went back to their home realities. And… some of the contents went with them.”
“Leaving noodles, sauce, and sundry… stains… sprayed at high velocity over a ten cubic SDU area.”
“Yes,” said Rael, glad of his understanding.
“None of this,” said Sherlock, “can be proven. At all.”
“Imagine the trouble the other residents might be having…”
Meanwhile and Elsewhen…
“It wasn’t me, Mom,” protested Calvin, in the middle of a blast zone of noodles, sauce, and mystery stains. “It was space aliens, honest! It really was! It wouldn’t have happened if the giant talking dog hadn’t tried to take apart the noodle nozzle…”
“Bath. Bed. No dinner,” said Mom. She was red-faced furious.
Calvin wasn’t certain if this was a lucky escape or not.
[With sincere apologies to Bill Watterson and Freefall. Obviously, I took liberties.]
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