Even the most delicious spices in the world can only do so much.

Brant bent down and slurped a little of Pamela's carrot soup into his mouth. He rolled it around on his tongue, paused, rolled it around again, and then swallowed. "Huh."

Leslie was on pins and needles. "Well? What do you think?"

Brant shook his head. "It's incredible. It's like nothing I've ever tasted before. This woman Pamela has created a soup that cannot be saved by the addition of any spice whatsoever. It is utterly bland, through and through, and I don't use the term lightly. I might normally say 'hideous' or 'It tastes awful,' but I can't say that at all. It literally tastes like nothing. She has somehow, through either design or wicked bad luck, created a black hole for flavor. An ORANGE hole, if you will."

"Isn't that so weird?" Leslie opened the cabinet where her two Swivel Store Deluxe spice holders were installed and pulled a couple more bottles down. "I thought maybe I had a tumor or something before you tried it. Here. Try dumping this chili powder and cinnamon into it."

"That's disgusting!"

"Ah, see, you'd think so, wouldn't you?" She poured the contents of each bottle into the soup. "Add the rest of that garlic salt, will you?"

Brant shrugged as he looked over the spices. They'd nearly removed all of the bottles that came with her swiveling, space-saving spice racks, ten in total, though it could hold up to twenty with ease. At this point there was nutmeg, cumin, even horseradish power in there, among other things. What would a little more garlic salt hurt?

Newly spiced, Leslie and Brant dipped their spoons into the soup and slurped once more. Both were silent for a long time after they'd swallowed. Brant finally broke. "I've got nothing."

"Oh my gosh, ME TOO! You think she's possibly an anti-culinary idiot savant, maybe?"

"I don't know," Brant said. "But whatever she is, we may have to stop her from ever cooking again."

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