text: &#x200B; “*GAH!* Not again!” Grumbling, the Beast removed a smoking, charcoal-black rectangle from the oven. He slammed the ceramic oven tray heavily onto the marbled counter, pulled the polka-dot oven mitts off his large paws and flung them across the kitchen in a blind fury, where they almost hit a passing servant in the face. “Everything going alright, your Highness?” the servant squeaked, picking up the discarded mitts. “Beth is getting impatient for her dinner.” The Beast growled in frustration as he clumsily leafed through the chunky recipe book, tattered and yellowed with age, that had been sitting on the counter. “I don’t *get* it, Lucy,” he muttered. “I just don’t *get* it. I did everything the recipe said. *EVERYTHING!”* The last word was almost a roar, and he slammed the book back down on the counter, startling the maid several steps back. “Fry the onions. Simmer the tomato. Bake in the oven for forty minutes. And yet...” He thrust a paw at the burnt mess sitting on the counter. “Does that *look* like a lasagna to you?” Lucy coughed a little from the thick smoke that hung in the air. “It doesn’t look *that* bad.” “Would *you* eat it?” “No, your Highness.” “Then it’s a failure.” He heaved a sigh. “I’ll never break this curse. I’ll be stuck as this ferocious, hairy thing *forever.*” “Oh don’t say that,” said Lucy, a sympathetic look on her round, pink face. “You’ve still got three days.” “*Three days!”* the Beast roared, making Lucy flinch. “How can I get that woman to compliment my cooking in *three days?* She’ll never eat this. She didn’t even like the oatmeal I made her this morning, and that was my best work yet.” “Oh, that reminds me, I’m almost done scraping the burnt bits off the oatmeal pot, so you should be able to use it again tomorrow,” Lucy said. “Oh, *joy,”* the Beast muttered. He slumped down at the large table, burying his large furry head in his paws. “It’s no use, Lucy. There’s just no pleasing her.” Lucy softly patted him between the ears. It was a bit like patting a dog--a very sad dog that didn’t know how to cook. “We could always get her drunk,” she suggested. “Bit of extra wine with dinner. Everything tastes better when you’re sloshed, believe me.” She began to chuckle, then stopped, blushing self-consciously. “It’s no use,” the Beast muttered. “You remember what the witch said. It has to be a *genuine* compliment on the quality of food I’ve prepared.” He banged a huge fist down on the table. “Of all the women I could have picked to break this stupid curse, why did I have to pick the *food critic?”* \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ The Beast was in his armchair by the fireplace when Lucy came in to the living room later that evening, after having brought tea and toast to Beth and apologising for the lack of dinner. He was gazing despondently at the oil painting on the wall across from him which depicted a handsome, golden-haired young man grinning smugly. Lucy had paused at the doorway, silent as a mouse, unwilling to intrude. “Come in, Lucy,” he said, somehow detecting her presence without turning around. Lucy had grown used to this sort of ‘sixth sense’ he now possessed--it was a bit like how dogs knew who was at the door because of their keen sense of smell. Except it clearly wasn’t a keen sense of smell, otherwise he’d be able to smell his cooking burning. “There’s no point, Lucy,” he said, as Lucy drew closer. “I can’t possibly learn how to cook in three days. I might as well get used to this.” Lucy took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to give you these before, your Highness,” she said, “because I was worried you’d be offended. But now... well, I don’t feel I have much of a choice.” “What are you talking about?” said the Beast. Lucy placed two books on the end table next to him. He glanced sideways at the stack, then, curiosity piqued, picked one up. “*Cooking for Dummies?”* he read. He looked at the second one. *“Cooking for Idiots?”* “And if those don’t work...” Lucy hesitantly handed him a third book. “There’s this one.” *“Cooking for Complete and Utter Nitwits?”* the Beast’s furry brow wrinkled in confusion. “But I don’t understand. I don’t *think* Beth is a Complete and Utter Nitwit... although she certainly acts like one.” Lucy swallowed. “No, erm, you see... the titles refer to the... the...” “The what?” said the Beast impatiently. “The person who’s... *doing* the cooking, your Highness.” She gulped. “You.” The Beast was silent for a very long moment. Lucy’s heart hammered. She had never insulted the prince before. He was going to tear her to shreds, she was sure of it. Suddenly, he roared--with laughter. He laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. Lucy, rather taken aback, managed a nervous chuckle. “Of course!*”* he managed at last. “Of *course*! All the recipes I’ve tried so far were written for people who’ve got a clue what they’re doing! No wonder I’ve failed. This, my dear Lucy, is *exactly* what I need!” *\~\*\~\*\~\*\~* “Zero out of five stars,” said Beth, placing her fork down. “You’ve barely even *tasted* it,” growled the Beast from the other end of the long dining table. He’d woken at dawn to pore through (well, paw through) *Cooking for Dummies,* and the recipe for perfect scrambled eggs had seemed easy enough. “I don’t need to finish the whole thing to know they taste like burnt rubber,” said Beth, turning up her nose at the yellowish-grey blob on the plate. “They do not,” grumbled the Beast. He took a spoonful himself, but couldn’t remember how eggs were meant to taste, and has no idea if Beth was in fact correct. “The eggs are fine. You’re just snooty. Nothing pleases you, not even the meal I slaved over all morning.” “I am *not* snooty!” Beth snapped, glaring down the length of the table. “It’s my *job* to be critical of what I eat, even if it is prepared by a dog.” “I’m not a dog,” the Beast growled, pausing to dislodge a flea from his left ear, “I’m a *beast!”* “Same bloody thing!” said Beth, standing up. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend to like your bad quality food. I’m going for a walk.” She left in a huff and headed for the door to the unkempt garden, no doubt looking for an escape route (she wouldn’t find one--it wasn’t that easy to break through to the Outside). The Beast was left alone in the enormous, empty dining room. He sighed and brought the recipe book out of his coat pocket, glaring at its bright, glossy cover. He threw *Cooking for Dummies* in the bin \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ The salad he made for Beth’s luncheon had been a limp, soggy affair, with a ‘zesty’ vinaigrette that tasted like a mouse had peed in it. Beth had given it one out of five stars, only because “it wasn’t burnt”. The Beast had remained in his seat long after she’d left, pondering how someone could possibly burn a salad. Perhaps it was something a Complete and Utter Nitwit would do, he mused. He threw *Cooking for Idiots* in the bin. The spaghetti and meatballs he made for Beth’s dinner were no better. The meatballs all coagulated in the pan to form one enormous, formidable meatblob that looked like the alien monster from a low-budget science fiction film. He threw *Cooking for Complete and Utter Nitwits* in the bin. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ That night, after Lucy had given Beth her supper, she did not go down to the living room, but went straight to bed. It broke her heart to see the Beast so glum every evening, and after the events of the day he was sure to be gloomier than ever. He’d been such a proud, smug little man before the curse, she remembered. He’d been picky with his food, too, like Beth. He even used to give the meals a rating when he’d finished. She bet he and Beth would get along marvellously if he was human. She lay back on her pillows and lost herself in reverie. Imagine if the Beast became human again, and he and Beth fell in love! She’d surely forget all about being kidnapped and being forced to eat his horrible cooking, once she’d laid eyes on his handsome face and golden curls. All the household staff would come back, too--the staff that had fled on that stormy night when the curse took hold--and the old ruined house would be full of life again! Her fancy popped like a bubble when she remembered that there were only two days remaining before the anniversary of the curse, when it would be stuck forever--his birthday. That night, he had turned a starving beggar woman away from his doorstep, not wanting to ruin the mood of his big coming-of-age party. That beggar woman had turned out to be a witch. Of *course* she bloody had. Honestly, sometimes Lucy felt like she was a character in one of those stupid fairytales. Why did that witch have to pick on him, of all people? All young men were like that, weren’t they? Caring only about themselves, not giving a toss about some ratty old woman on the doorstep, begging for scraps? There wouldn’t have been a scrap to *give* her, anyway. He’d already eaten all the frozen pizza. He hadn’t known it was frozen pizza, of course--had he known, he would have turned his nose up at it, the way Beth had at her eggs that morning. It had been a little joke amongst the kitchen staff. His Highness, so picky with food, had devoured that cheap frozen meal, claiming it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. The laughter down in the kitchens that night had soon turned to shrieks of terror at the menacing creature that had lumbered frantically down there to hide his hideous new form from his terrified guests. She thought again of the witch’s curse that had echoed through the halls that night, muttering the lines to herself in the dark. “With thine own hands, prepare a meal...” Lucy sat up in bed, beaming with excitement. “I’ve *got* it!” \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ “So you’re telling me,” said the Beast, raising a skeptical, furry eyebrow, “I don’t need to actually *cook* the food? Just *prepare* it? Why didn’t you tell me this before?*”* “I only thought of it last night,” explained Lucy, tending to the sizzling bacon in the pan. “And besides, you heard the curse as well as I did. You could have looked for a loophole too.” “You’re right,” he replied, in considerably better spirits this morning after Lucy had told him her idea. “And besides, it’s not as if I need a lot of time to make this work. Surely just one meal will suffice.” “I hope so,” said Lucy. “Here, plate this up. Make it nice and presentable. Remember: toast first, then bacon, then egg, then the hollandaise sauce.” She gestured to each pot and pan in turn. The Beast’s clumsy paws were, however, not designed for assembling breakfasts, and the result looked less like an Eggs Benedict and more like an earthquake at brunch. Lucy hid her dismay as she surveyed the plate. “I suppose it will have to do,” she said. “Besides, it’s the taste that’s important. I’ll wake Beth, shall I?” \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ “Zero out of five stars for presentation,” Beth announced. “Oh, come on!” snarled the Beast. “It’s not that bad. Besides, who cares how it looks? What are you doing to do, take a photo of it?” “I usually do,” said Beth primly. The Beast refrained from rolling his eyes. “Just taste it,” he urged. “I worked very hard to *prepare* it this morning.” Beth eyed the plate critically, and sighed, poking it with her fork. “Oh, all right. If you worked *so* hard to--*eek!”* She shrieked suddenly, her fork flying out of her hand and landing on the floor. “What *now?”* “There’s a *hair* in it!” Grimacing, Beth pointed a manicured fingernail at the intruder. “Right there. In the sauce.” Sure enough, there was a long, ruddy brown hair, coiled up in the hollandaise sauce. “Can’t you just eat *around* the hair?” *“No!* I’m not going to eat something with dog hair in it. It’s unhygienic.*”* “It’s not *dog* hair,” growled the Beast, insulted. “It’s *my* hair!” “Same thing,” muttered Beth, getting up and storming out of the dining room like she did at every meal. The Beast groaned in annoyance. He had been so close! Of course he had to go and get a hair in it. He was always shedding these days; he really ought to have been more careful. There was still lunch and dinner, after all. And tomorrow. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ “Just grab a sprig of parsley from the herb garden and put it on top,” Lucy had instructed, after checking for stray hairs in the steaming bowl of pasta carbonara that the Beast had just scooped. “You do know which one’s parsley, right?” “Of course I do,” he replied coolly. “I’m not a Complete and Utter Nitwit.” Evidently he was, because Beth turned her nose up at the meal. “I do *not* eat coriander,” she announced. *Coriander. Dammit,* thought the Beast. He should have swallowed his pride and let Lucy see the herb first. “Just pick it off.” *“No.”* Beth pushed the plate away with finality, and arose for her afternoon walk. This time, however, she paused by the door and glanced very briefly in the beast’s direction with an odd expression. Then she was gone. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ Dinner was Lucy’s famous seafood risotto. She hadn’t made it in a very long time, but it had been one of the prince’s favourites. Lucy had watched as the Beast stirred the last of it and carefully ladled it into the bow, checking meticulously for stray hairs. So far, so good, he thought, watching Beth down the length of the table. For one thing, she was *eating.* Her face was impassive as she chewed. Occasionally, she glanced up from her plate and met his eyes with a thoughtful expression. Finally, she scooped up the last mouthful of risotto. The Beast couldn’t believe his eyes. She’d finished the whole meal, and hadn’t complained once! Beth hesitated. “It was good,” she said. The Beast pricked up his ears. “Good?” “More than good. Absolutely delicious,” said Beth. “Best thing I’ve ever eaten.” This was it, the Beast thought, standing up and inadvertently knocking over his chair in excitement. They’d *done* it! Beth had finally given him a genuine compliment on the quality of food he’d prepared! The curse was broken. He’d transform back into a human any minute now. Any minute now... He frowned, looking down at his enormous paws. They didn’t show the slightest sign of changing into the smooth, slender human hands he once had. In fact, he didn’t feel very different at all. He glared up at Beth. “You’re lying.” “I’m *not!”* she insisted. “It really was the best--oh, alright, you got me.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “I’m sorry. The texture was like glue and there was too much salt.” “Then why did you tell me you liked it? Do you *pity* me?” “No,” said Beth quickly. “No, of course not. I just... well, on my walk today, I was thinking... I *have* been rather snooty. You’ve been working so hard on these meals, after all, and even though they’ve all been *terrible...* you kept trying. The last two even showed some promise.” She smiled encouragingly. “I didn’t want you to give up.” “It’s too late,” said the Beast quietly, turning and walking away. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ “Didn’t *like* it? Didn’t *like* my famous seafood risotto?” Lucy furiously scrubbed Beth’s plate in the kitchen sink down in the servant’s quarters. “Too much *salt?!* Texture like *glue?!”* The Beast, seated at the large wooden table, shrugged. “Oh, well,*”* Lucy sighed. “We’ve still got tomorrow. I’ll make something simple. There must be something...” “Forget it,” muttered the Beast. “It’s no use. Everything we’ve tried has failed. This curse is truly unbreakable.” “Oh, please don’t say that,” said Lucy. “We’ll figure it out. There’s a whole *day* ahead, yet! We’re so close!” But Lucy just couldn’t cheer the Beast up, no matter how she tried. Miserably, he went up to bed, and she returned to her own quarters, the matter of what meal to prepare for Beth weighing heavy on her mind. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ The Beast didn’t come down to the kitchen that morning. Lucy tried to coax him down, telling him that there was no way he could mess up preparing porridge under her watchful eye, but he refused to get out of bed. Deciding it best to leave him alone for the time being, Lucy cooked some scrambled eggs for Beth (much closer to a sunny yellow than a yellowish-grey this morning) and served her breakfast in the dining room. “Where’s the beast this morning?” asked Beth. “His Highness,” said Lucy pointedly, still a little sore from the news that her famous risotto had gone unappreciated, “is unwell.” “Oh,” said Beth, poking her scrambled eggs with a fork. “I hope I didn’t offend him last night. He’s awfully sensitive about his cooking, isn’t he?” “You might say that,” said Lucy as she poured Beth’s tea. “But I can’t help the way I am,” said Beth, shrugging. “Only the finest quality food suits my taste. Still,” she mused, with a mouthful of egg, “It seems he’s really trying to impress me with his cooking. He really wants to win my heart, doesn’t he?” *Not your heart,* thought Lucy, but the curse allowed her to say no more. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ The Beast didn’t come down to prepare lunch, or dinner, no matter how Lucy cajoled. Lucy’s heart sank--he really had given up. Lucy’s vision of the palace bustling with life again seemed more distant than ever. But though the beast had given up, Lucy had not. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ It must have been about 10 o’clock at night by the time the Beast grew weary of staying in his room and made his way down to the living room for a change of scenery. Lucy had come down there to pester him about preparing a meal for Beth, but he had sent her away. Besides, she was unlikely to eat anything at this time of night. As he sat, listening to the hiss and crackle of the fireplace, he heard the door creak open. Thinking it was Lucy come to pester him again, he turned around to tell her off--and stopped. “Beth?” “Your Highness,” she said, walking slowly into the room. She was wearing a horrible yellow, frilly dress instead of her usual t-shirt and jeans, and appeared to have done her hair up. The Beast was rather taken aback. She never called him Your Highness. “What do you want?” he said. “I’m not going to cook for you. Lucy’s been feeding you, hasn’t she?” “She has,” said Beth. She smiled shyly. “I came down here to... talk.” The Beast grimaced. “I don’t want to talk to *you*. And there’s no need to come down here and try to make friends with me. Tomorrow you’ll be free. I’ll be out of your life forever.” He turned his head back toward the fire. “Well, you see... I don’t think I want that,” said Beth. “What?” “Can I sit here?” said Beth, perching awkwardly on the arm of the Beast’s huge leather armchair. “There’s another chair over there,” grumbled the Beast, but Beth didn’t seem to hear him. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ Lucy picked her way through the unkempt back lawn in the dark. Her stockings were wet with the evening mist that clung to the long grass, and her feet squelched in their sensible shoes. She shivered. This was no time of night to be out of doors, and a small, selfish part of her wanted to give up as the beast had, to sit by the fire and accept the curse. “No,” she said to herself, as she finally reached the dilapidated old garage that sat a little ways from the house. Her freezing hands fumbled for the rusty old key that would unlock it. “I must give it one last try.” There was a family of rats living in the old car, and they seemed to be having some sort of party. After shooing them out and settling herself in, Lucy took a deep breath. It has been a while since she’d broken through the barrier to the Outside -- the day before the prince’s coming-of-age party, in fact. She remembered it well--she and the other cooks had crowded into the car, laughing about the prank. She remembered her heart hammering as they broke into the Outside with an ear-splitting *Pop!* She remembered the busy streets, the people walking about in their strange clothes, the chill of the frozen-food aisle. They’d even gone through a “Drive-Thru” on the way back, for chips and burgers, the woman in the window eyeing them strangely as she handed them a brown paper bag that was nearly transparent with grease. It had been a good day. This time, she was alone. \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ “You know,” said Beth, “I’ve had my share of terrible boyfriends in the past.” The Beast wished she would stop talking. He just wanted to be left alone. Suppressing a groan of frustration, he said, “All right. Tell me about them.” “Oh, I won’t bore you with the details,” said Beth, waving a hand. (*Then why did you mention them in the first place?* thought the Beast.) “But I will say this: they *never* put in any effort for me. Cheap gifts picked up from the dollar store. Ugly flowers--I hate flowers, you know. One of them, in fact, tried to throw me a romantic candlelight dinner\*,\*” she paused for effect, “with *frozen food!* I saw the boxes in the bin by the freezer. A frozen lasagna, and a blueberry cheesecake. I can still see the cheesecake, a greyish-purple slab of horror, defrosting on the counter. Can you *imagine?”* The Beast could not imagine it. He had heard of pre-packaged frozen meals, of course--they were apparently quite popular in the Outside--but had *certainly* never tried them. He was surprised to find he was chuckling. “So what did you do?” he asked. “Why, I stormed out without so much as eating a bite!” Beth exclaimed. “You should have given the meal a go,” said the Beast. “You might have liked it.” After a moment, the two burst into laughter. “My point is,” said Beth, “he didn’t even *try* to cook something for me himself. In fact, none of my boyfriends have.” She held his gaze. “Except for you.” Now the Beast was *really* confused. “But I’m not your boyfriend,” he said. “No,” said Beth softly. “But you could be.” “What?” “You see, nobody has ever gone to this much effort for me before,” she said. “And even though you can’t cook to save your life, I... well, I think I’m in lo--” “Your Highness!” Beth and the Beast looked up, startled. Lucy, red-faced and dishevelled, with mousy-grey curls escaping her bonnet, clutched the doorframe and struggled to catch her breath. “In the kitchen,” she managed at last. “Important. Emergency. Now.” \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ *“Frozen pizza?”* the Beast exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind? She’ll *never* eat this. She literally just finished telling me a story about how she ended a long-term relationship over a frozen meal. Why in blazes do you think this is going to work?” “Just trust me,” pleaded Lucy, shoving the box into his hands. “She won’t know. Besides, what have we got to lose? Hurry now, we only have until midnight.” The Beast shrugged. “Well, if you insist. But I tell you, it’s not going to work. Now, how do I prepare this?” He peered at the box. *“Delicious gourmet pizza in twenty minutes,”* he read. *“So simple, even a Complete and Utter Nitwit can prepare it.”* \~\*\~\*\~\*\~ The old grandfather clock showed 11.45 by the time the Beast re-entered the living room, carefully balancing a plate of steaming pizza between his large paws. He still didn’t think this was going to work, but Lucy had seemed so *certain* for some reason. “Oh, Beth,” he called gently. “Fancy a midnight feast?” Beth, who had been sitting sulkily in the large armchair, turned around, and her face lit up. “Goodness, is that *pizza?”* she said, sniffing the air hungrily. “Did you make it for *me?”* “Of course I did,” replied the Beast, setting the plate down on the coffee table near the chair. “That’s why the maid came in earlier....to tell me that I forgot to take it out of the oven.” Beth laughed. “You were having so much fun *talking* to me, you forgot that you were *cooking* for me!” “Yes, that must have been it,” said the Beast distractedly. “Look, just try a slice, will you?” He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but couldn’t help it. Beth wordlessly ate slice after slice, a rapturous expression on her face. She even dabbed the crumbs off the plate with a finger when she was done. “That,” she said emphatically, “was the *best* meal I have ever eaten in my *life.”* The clock struck midnight. The Beast felt his paws begin to tingle. He felt an odd pulling feeling in his face, as if it were changing shape. Torn between glee at the prospect of having broken the curse, and amusement at the fact that the snooty food critic had complimented a cheap, frozen meal, he began to roar with laughter--the laugh becoming less roar-like as it went on. Beth’s eyes grew wide as the ferocious beast changed into a handsome young man, with golden curls and dark blue eyes, before her. “It *worked!* Oh, I *knew* it would work!” Lucy, who had been hanging around the doorway tentatively, now bounded into the room, tears of joy spilling down her face. She joined hands with the handsome young prince, and they danced in a circle, laughing and whooping with jubilation. Beth, unused to being ignored in this way, cleared her throat loudly. They stopped dancing; the prince looked at Beth with a slightly disgusted expression on his face. “Yes? What is it?” he said. “You’re *human!”* Beth exclaimed, beaming. “I broke the curse! Oh, don’t you see? Now we can be together! ...Darling? What is it? Don’t you... don’t you want me?” “Well, frankly, no,” replied the young prince, sneering. “I just can’t bring myself to be with someone who enjoys *frozen* pizza.” “Frozen pizza? What on earth are you--” Her eyes darted to the empty plate, and she gasped in horror, her hand flying to her mouth. “You *fiend!* You *trickster!* You--you--” Overcome with anger, she fled from the room. The prince rolled his eyes. “What a fraud. I can’t believe she ate that garbage\*,\* but turned up her nose at my cooking--and even *your* famous risotto.” He turned to Lucy, incredulous. “How on earth did you know that would *work?”* Lucy smiled mysteriously. Some things were better off kept secret.