Creepy Frozen Pasta Novels & Stories

A cloying scent of fishy sweetness and eye-watering spice began to fill the kitchen. ​But Emily wasn't done. She opened the fridge and found a jar of fermented shrimp paste. She took a large scoop and stirred it in, watching as the noodles turned a grayish, unappetizing hue. For texture, she decided the dish needed some crunch. She grabbed a handful of dried, unsalted crackers and crushed them into fine dust, throwing them in until the liquid thickened into a sludge that looked more like wet cement than soup.

I hurriedly pick up the fork next to the plate and hungrily scooped up the pasta. "I knew it! I know your weakness. Tuna pasta makes you a seven-year-old kid!" he teased and laugh hardly as if his throat is going to break. I ignored what he had said. I was busy with the food on my plate. It's mouthwatering! Tuna pasta is my fucking favourite! "Slow down, dude. Tita will be going to scold me if you die due to suffocation." he teased once again. Still, I didn't pay attention to him. It's more meaningful to face this delicious meal in front of me than talking to my monkey cousin.

I muttered savoring the taste of the creamy pasta “It's been so long I was actually afraid that you might not like pasta anymore” “Of course I still like it, why won't I like it, this taste so damn good” I muttered “I'm glad you like it” He smiled, I tasted the fried chicken breast and the pasta and I almost lost my mind, this is so fucking good, I kept on eating and eating, and gosh he bought so much food and I cannot stop eating, my stomach was so full and still there's so much food and he barely ate anything

Not that I did not have faith in my cooking, but I was not confident enough whether or not he would like my cooking. Mr Frost was a very unpredictable man, I did not know his likes or dislikes… yet. I felt like he could be very final as well. What if he did not like my food? Deciding to push all the negative thoughts to the back of my head, I checked the meal plan. Hmm. Pasta. They had not specified a type, so I placed two fingers on my chin, deep in thought. "Creamy Cajun Chicken Pasta… I've watched too many videos about it, but now I have all the ingredients to make it. Expensive ones, not the cheap kind, too." I clapped my hands together in light glee.

Dad and Rory sighed and turned to me. “Please, ignore her. Eat,” Rory said, and I smiled politely at him. “What do you want to eat?” Dexter asked me, and I looked at the table. I was so distracted by her I forgot I was hungry. “The pasta is really nice. This is Cullen skink; it’s a creamy soup you two should give it a try. There are also some snacks if you have space in your belly for more,” Dad said, and I smiled. “We would love to try it,” I said, and he smiled.

Error 404. Was she so hard up for naked adult time that seeing a man’s chest sent her over the edge? And for fuck’s sake, she was having plain pasta and sauce with no meat or vegetables or even cheese. Okay, there was a little bit of cheese. Frozen, grated cheese she’d found in the back of her freezer. The pasta was now a pasta bake after she threw the pasta sauce into the pasta, gave it a stir, and dumped it into a casserole dish before sprinkling it with the aforementioned frozen cheese. But still…it wasn’t exactly a gourmet meal. Jack was going to think she was some sort of…she didn’t even know what.

By the time I was done, Cleo unimpressed eyes were still on me. "What," I drawled out, she rolled her eyes. "Going by your logic, shouldn't you be scared of eating pasta?” She said, throwing me off track for a minute. “Eating pasta in such large portion, I remember you rushing to the restroom over bad sauce from a pasta. Or what about that drink. That cocktail you love, what it's name again?" I signed, "Sex on the beach,"

The girl sometimes asked for the deliveries that were left under the boxes of everything her mother sent, so the girl put it in the back of the pantry, so it wouldn't be spoiled with Adonis' cooking, by making sure Adonis wouldn’t see the homemade sauce. Being that even being selfish, she didn't want the pasta to be spoiled, the industrialized products were in front, how much the good things stayed for them, the hidden sweets along with the vegetables he refused to eat, like broccoli and chicory, it was then, around 10:45 pm, when Astrid finished eating.

After another split-second of hesitation, Miranda hurried off, and Tom and I waited until her bedroom door shut behind her to laugh. “Man, I feel like a dick, but this food looks cursed,” he said. I stared down at the pitch-black pasta. “It’s definitely spooky. But she busted her ass. We have to give it a fair shot.” We both gathered forkfuls of pasta, and Tom held his up to me as if to cheers. I knocked my fork against his with a smile, then took a bite. “Holy shit,” Tom said. I nodded. “Wow.”

One rice was colored purple and the other was colored brown. "Wow, you guys love rice!" Freya ate a lot of the brown sticky rice. She mumbled during breakfast, “What do you call this?” “Biko!” Crisanto’s aunts said at the same time, laughing. “I still love these spider shells,” Geneva said while pulling out the meat from the shell and dipping them in spicy vinegar. “Kenneth, Freya. You should try these. I noticed you did not try them last night.” Crisanto’s mother presented freshly cooked smelly eggs.