Sinister Soup

Okay, here is my belated story for the verse challenge!   Sorry for the odd title; I just came up with it just so I didn't post it without a title! =P

Thaddeus hung his lab coat on the hook and did a quick sweep of the room, making sure everything was in place before leaving.  Satisfied, he swung the door shut behind him and loped down the hallway to the first stairwell.  With a spring in his step, he thudded down the stairs and emerged at the bottom, angling towards 1022 to wait for his sister to get out of class.  At 10:20 on the dot, the bell rang and a rush of students crowded the hallway, eager to escape into the bright sunshine awaiting them outdoors.  Thaddeus intercepted a tall brunette as she brushed by, and she swiveled around in surprise.
    “Thaddie!”
    “You ready?”
    “Ja, my bag’s waiting at the door.  Let’s go!” 
    The two siblings hurried out the door together, waving goodbye to friends as they hit the double doors and their feet touched the sidewalk. 
    In no time, they were cruising down the highway towards home.
    In a few hours, they turned onto a bumpy dirt road and bounced the rest of the way home.

    Once inside, Thaddeus dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and perused the dining room.  A few books lay open on the table, pencils haphazardly thrown aside, erasers in lonely exile on the glistening wood.  Tirzah swung the door open with her foot and dropped her load of luggage in the mudroom. 
    “Where is everybody?”  She asked, sensing the silence.
    “I don’ know; it looks like they were in the middle of school and left all of a sudden,” Thaddeus observed.
    Suddenly, Thaddeus saw something move behind the couch in the living room.  A small sock clad foot wiggled methodically back and forth.  Thaddeus grinned and pointed the foot out to Tirzah.  He motioned for her to stay quiet and then tiptoed over to the couch.  He reached down and gave the little foot a tug, yelling out “Rawr!” At the same time.  He was rewarded with a shrieking yelp and a little boy bounced up.
    “Hey, you weren’t supposed to be able to find me!”  The little boy protested.
    “Haha!  You give yourself away when you can’t stop wiggling, Timothy!”  Thaddeus laughed.  Tirzah joined them and swept Timothy up in a hug. 
    “Now where are all the others?”  She inquired.
    “You’ll have to find them!”  Timothy grinned mischievously.
    “Oh, we’re playin’ that game, eh?”
    “Yup!” Timothy giggled and squirmed to get down.  Tirzah complied and the three siblings set off to find the rest of the clan. 
    Once all five of the rest of the children had been found, the eight children unpacked the car and then dispersed to carry out their respective duties in preparation for supper.

    That night, the children were settling in for bed, which took a considerable amount of time for eight rambunctious children.
    “Thaddie, tell us a story!”  Theophilus begged, bouncing up and down on the bed. 
    “Well...”  Thaddeus paused, grinning mischievously. 
    “Oh come on, Thad, just one.” Titus pleaded.
    “Well, all right.”  Thaddeus consented.
    “Now stop jumping on that bed, Theophilus Epaphroditus!”  Taralah reprimanded, tugging on his arm.  Theophilus sent a scathing glare her way before plopping down on the middle of the bed.
    “Okay, settle down, y’all.”  Tirzah commanded, settling herself in the corner chair with four year old Timothy on her lap.  Titus and Theophilus sprawled across each other on the bed, Tychicus spread out on the floor, and Taralah and Tabitha perched at Tirzah’s feet.
    “All right.  Once upon a time, there lived a great king.  He named his kingdom Benevolence, which was an extravagant misnomer, because his kingdom was anything but benevolent.”
    “What does benevolent mean?”  Timothy interrupted.
    “It means you’re being nice to someone.”  Taralah offered.
    “Oh, like if Tychicus would let me have the last icecream sandwich?”  Timothy asked, looking pointedly at Tychicus.
    “Yeah; if that would ever happen!” Tychicus laughed, rolling away from Timothy’s kicking legs.
    “You tick!” Timothy growled.
    “Hey now, that’s enough.  Thaddeus, you better finish your story so these hooligans will go to sleep.”  Tirzah intervened.
    “Right.  Well, this king had a furious temper.  It was well known that you did not want to cross this king, but no one knew what would happen if you did, for no one had ever been brave enough to try.  One day, the gardener was out weeding the tomatoes when the king’s son marched over.
    ‘Gardener, my father says you must prepare him a meal.  The chef has fallen ill and someone must take his place for tonight.  You are to prepare his favorite dish, at once.’  The king’s son departed, having delivered his message.
    ‘B-but; I’m a gardener, not a chef!’  The gardener cried out in protest.  The king’s son ignored him.  The gardener put down his hoe and looked at his dirt-caked hands. 
    ‘Me?  In the kitchen?  I wouldn’t know the first place to start!’  He wailed to himself.  Resigned, however, to his duty, he scurried inside to fetch a basket.  Within minutes he had filled it to the brim with tomatoes, cherries from the orchard, radishes, and green beans.  He made his way to the kitchen, stopping to pluck stray weeds from the ground as he went.  Once inside, he surveyed his utensils.  Grabbing a large pot, he hung it on the hook over the fireplace.  He filled it a fourth full with water from the spring, and then sat with his head in his hands, trying to think what to fix.
    ‘The king’s favorite dish, eh?  And how am I supposed to know what that is?’  The gardener was by no means on a friendly basis with the king, and was not fond of the chef, either, so he had never heard what the king’s favorite dish was.  After several intense minutes of agonizing thought, the gardener finally sat up straight.
    ‘I’ve had enough of this tyranny!  I’m going to fix whatever I please, and just see if the king dares to punish me!’  The gardener smiled in satisfaction, and set to chopping up tomatoes in a fury.  He threw several cupfuls into the kettle, followed in quick sucession by the radishes, cherries and green beans.  He looked in delight at the concoction swirling about in the kettle.  He knew it would probably taste disgusting.
    ‘The more disgusting, the better!’ He decided, adding various spices from the pantry.  Soon, the mixture in the kettle was heated to a rolling boil, and the gardener breathed in the aroma. 
    ‘Mmmm... Perfect.’  He smiled wickedly and brought a spoonfull to his lips.  He inhaled it and then spat it out quickly.
    ‘Disgusting!’  He breathed, pleased. 
    Soon thereafter, the a bowl of the soup (if you can call it that) sat in front of the king.  He looked at it in distaste.
    ‘What, may I ask, is this?”  The king growled.
    ‘Soup, your highness.’  The gardener said, hiding a smirk.
    ‘Soup!’  The king roared, enraged.  ‘Did I not ask for my favorite dish?  Send him to the gallows, immediately!’  Was the king’s edict.
    That night, the gardener died.”
    “Oh, Thaddeus, how awful!”  Taralah cried.  “How could you tell such a story?”
    “Oh, it just came to me when I read Proverbs 20:2 this morning; ‘The terror of a king is like the growling of a lion; He who provokes him to anger forfeits his own life.’”
    “Ugh; I don’t know how you can stand to tell such a story.  You better tell something else, or the boys will have nightmares.”  Tirzah instructed.
    “Well, when I came up with the story, I thought of how Jesus died for us, so that we don’t have to encounter God’s wrath for our sins, but instead, we get to live in heaven forever with him and enjoy His holiness and love.  That’s where the happy ending comes in.”  Thaddeus smiled.
    “Ah, yes.  Well, I’m glad you had a good reason behind your story, Thad.”  Tirzah smiled back.  “Well, boys, to bed then?” 
    She was answered by a soft snore from Timothy. 

THE END!