Cashewnuts marinated in blood

The prettily furnished kitchen was painted in a petunia violet colour. The floor pads were white. The ceiling was grey. She had her own TV over a corner which crackled round the clock. The gas burner was always on to add to the heat. Now at the exact present she is dong a fish. She decides on its fate according to her natural instincts. Or rather it is her cultivated instincts. The TV is showing about an amazing accident. A man was cut into two by a truck. His two legs are separated and his stomach looks like paper pulp now. It gave her an idea and she started cutting the fish open. She took out its intestines and mashed it into a pulp format. She laid it down on a hot pan after adding enough spices. She kept her eyes over the pan. The hot air from the pan squeezed out two drops of her eye into the dish. That would do for the salt she thought. She threw away the rest of the fish.
She quietly settled on her recliner with her dish. The recliner supported her in all ways. After enjoying the meal she zoomed back to the TV. A petite animal lover was caressing a female panda on the screen. Somewhere else some white priest was pulling staggering devotees off their feet. She watched a lot of pretty oriental children playing foot ball on a channel for some time. Her hands kept pushing her views. She really felt the effect of distributed control and started searching the control centre if there was one. Views passed before her in a hurried manner. She witnessed miracles, real realities, unreal realities, she listened to peoples woes, and at last she hit one of those war channels. What she saw was the close up of a boy’s ball hit by a bullet. One ball was intact and was squirming in blood. Suddenly she knew she was hungry again. She stood up and thought of her next dish. She took out some cashew nuts and started roasting them. She took our one of her wonder knifes and made a cut on her veins. She allowed the blood to pour into the pan. The dark red blood and the brownish yellow nuts. She saw the nuts squirming in the deep concoction of blood and oil. She waited for the dish to cool before she could taste it. She reclined on her supporter and her finger again started searching for her.