Take the misshapen lumps. Frigid deluge... An abrasive baptism... Scour the hide. Remove the traces of its home. Excise any growths... Wick away the moisture... Drain the essence. Chop into even sections... There are no standouts here. Exile to a hemispherical prison. Apply the crushed extract of olives. Not too much... just a light coat. Toss until they have a sheen... Still boring. Still bland. Spice them up... Paprika... dried blood spilt. Adobo... falling snow covers the remains. Chili flakes... circular reminders of what you did. Italian blend... green... The cyclical return of spring. Place in the basket... or on the tray. Apply the convection of misery. An infernal hellscape of suffering. The skin must blister... The will must wither. Before it can relax... There is one last step. Get the parmesan. Hard, But not invincible. Grate thinly... All things yield to erosion and time. Thin white ribbons... Not enough to cover the bodies. Toss. Disperse the ribbons against the remnants... Until lightly connected... In death... like mycelium. Show your macabre artistry. Impale. Pinch. Scoop. Feast on your victory... Gain sustenance from the demise. Masticate. You have reaped the apples of the earth.
