Out of the casserole dish and into the fire

The golden casserole jumped into the lava and kept screaming for help until the chef came. "Why do you do this?" he yelled. "You jump into lava and scream for help!? Why? You can just not jump into lava!" "Chef sir!" yelled the golden casserole. "But now you look at me yeah?"

'I do, casserole,' replies the chef, 'and I find that you are NOT in your place.' 'But I am alive, chef! Do you see the absurdity of that?? The potential? I'm an anomaly that disproves so many scientific facts!!' 'You're right,' sobs the chef, 'none of this is even real anyway..'

“I’m real, you can be 100% certain of that, chef!” To emphasize my point, I made a fist and pounded my own chest. My fist went right through thick layers of fondant and marzipan. “Cake?” My voice broke as I asked the chef, “Am I made of cake?”

Gustav’s eyes softened as he nodded toward a waiter I’d known for years. “Look,” he said, gently brushing marzipan from my shoulder, “it could be worse - at least you’re not made of soup like Jimmy.” For the first time I noticed a wobbly quality to Jimmy’s limbs. Gazpacho?

A fly landed on Jimmy's nose & began to slop around in his viscosity. "Waiter," I said, "what is a fly doing in my Jimmy?" The waiter looked over at poor, liquid James & inspected the invasive insect. "I believe it's doing the dog paddle," he drawled. Yes, reader, I went there.