Culinary

"Props to the Gawd of Night Sweats," Shandy whispered, looking down at the pillow case. "You give and I gladly receive." She rubbed a piece of burlap all over it, went downstairs, and did a quick security check before venturing out into the yard. All clear; the gate was holding. "I know you're hungry; gimme just a minute," she said (silently through her thoughts) to one of the things groaning in the alley. "I got you." Shandy attached the burlap square to a large metal column cemented into the yard. Returning to the kitchen behind the metal security door, she opened the gate remotely and 4 or 5 zombies made a beeline for the pole - drawn immediately to a square of fabric that smelled of oil and water, skin and hair. "Now serving," Shandy whispered and, as they swarmed the column, she entered another code into her keypad which sent spikes out from the pillar in all directions to impale the shamblers while the rotisserie-style burn began. "Menopause mise en place," Shandy whispered, closing the gate and sitting down at the table for a moment. "Another successful breakfast served at the No Thank You Cafe. Culinary skills for the win."