As my grandma always said, "We are born to do bad". Fortunately, fate had other plans.

    It was a stormy, heated day, perfect for possession as my grandma always said, and I was starting out with my first possession. She was a renowned chef, and it was my job to get her to drive away all her customers. Why, I'd never know, but I was determined to be the best at being the worst thing that ever happened to this woman. I pushed my consciousness over hers, and I looked at the ingredients in front of me. A some eggs, bacon--it was a brunch service, that's for sure. 

    I opened the fridge and pulled out the most acrid, unpleasant ingredients I could think of, and directed the staff to do everythikng in reverse for this service. I thought I was so bad. Into the uncooked eggs on the pan I added raw ginger, garlic, mushrooms, a stick of butter, pickles, and dry mustard. Oh, I was gonna start off with a kick. I whisked everything together, and set it to high. 

    "That smells delicious!" a staff member noted, one of the younger ones. I know she meant well, but I couldn't help but be discouraged by her remark. It wasn't supposed to be good, it needed to be disgusting. I searched the cupboard for something to really nasty it up. Truffle oil sprung out at me, and I poured it on like an alcoholic pours a drink of human blood.

    The frittata really looked awful, even for human food, and I took this as a sign of success, and sent the order out with a waitress. I waited for the sounds of screaming as I began to prepare another one, but what I got was unlike anything I'd ever known before. 

        "This. Is. AMAZING! The chef somehow knew EXACTLY what I was craving today! Maybe she's pregnant too!"

        "You're shouting, dear..."

        "Oh boo to you, I've got to go pay my compliments!"

    And into the kitchen walked Preggo 2.0, bump and all. 

        "I simply MUST compliment you on this frittatta! How did you know?"

        "I guess I just had a feeling. But I really need to get back to work."

    I tried to sound sincere, but all I could think is that she seemed so....happy. It was my job to piss people off and ruin things, but I made her...happy. I kinda liked that. What else makes people...happy?

    I looked over at my staff, and, as I asked, they were doing everything in reverse. What I didn't expect, was that they too, seemed happy. 

        "This is a real treat, boss!" "These smell better than the originals!" "This will be a brunch to remember!"

    Somehow, in my own, bad, way, I had made them happy too. And you know what? I felt happy. Sure, I wouldn't be getting paid, and I certainly wouldn't be getting that new human skin purse I wanted anytime soon, but this felt right.