Disclaimer: The Technishit is purely satirical, don’t take it too seriously.
While my fellow columnists have taken to a more unconventional set of recipes, it is here that I would like to offer a more useful, common recipe for a pure chocolate cake. It’s savory and sweet, just like the tears that you’ll shed after staying up until 3 a.m. the night before your test trying to study. This cake will help wash away the pain of your existence, albeit only a little bit.
Begin by preheating your oven to 400 degrees Celsius. Yes, Celsius, not Fahrenheit. You’re going to want to be able to smell the nuclear fission going on inside of that oven. Next, you’ll prepare your ingredients:
- 2 and ½ cups of raw eggs
- 1 gallon of chocolate milk
- Fermented butter (3 sticks!)
- Irradiated Cocoa powder retrieved from the homes surrounding the Chernobyl disaster area (Expect at least a 3-week delivery period if you order from Amazon)
- A dash of crushed Geraniums
- 23 pounds of purified cobalt
- 3 fingers off the left hand of a deceased possum (the live ones are usually too fresh, they need to ripen)
- An original copy of Creed’s 1999 sophomore album “Human Clay” on cassette tape
- A railroad spike from the middle of a completely deserted field with no railroads nearby
- 4 cups of strange glowing mold from that bizarre dead tree behind your house. You know the one. The one that when the wind blows through it, you feel like you hear whispers, — and as it sways at night, you feel a strange, uncomfortable, living presence emanating from it. If the mold isn’t in season, feel free to substitute with some store-bought mint of your choosing.
- Lastly, add some chocolate icing.
Once you’ve got that all together, go ahead and mix it up, pour it into a cake pan and toss that baby into the oven (be sure to avoid putting your head too close to the gaping maw of heat, I’ve lost a few eyebrows that way). Let it cook for about 20 minutes, and go ahead and retrieve your freshly baked —
Oh. Oh god. This isn’t a cake at all. What have I created? What have I done? May the universe have pity on my soul for this lumbering abomination, this hulking mass of flesh and terror. Good god, it sees me — quickly! Destroy this recipe; no good can come from it! Burn the article before it’s too la
