"Delicious. Oh, how I do love almonds, and how I love their oh-so-tasty aroma," Salvatore sang to himself, prancing about his kitchen. Sal was a well known chef in his day, stirring up many a spicy dish. But no more. This was his last. His finale was going to be as grand as any, hopefully even more so. He turned off the oven to get a taste of his newest meal. He turned on his TV, and plopped down into his ever-so-comfy recliner. As he watched the news for a short time, he sucked in every aspect of his dish. Sal frowned, mumbling, "Hmm, not quite ready. Needs more pepper."
He arrived at the meeting early, to carefully add the finishing touches on his final masterpiece. The President was going to there, Sal knew. If Sal could impress him, one of the most powerful men in the world, his life would be complete. He readied everything to be served, and one by one everything was laid out for all the men and women at the table. As was customary, Sal, the chef, was to introduce the current dish. "Well, Sal, you've practiced this so many times. You know what to do... here goes nothing."
There were no survivors.
And in case the meanings escape you:
Almonds = The smell of C4
Kitchen = Lab
Chef = Bombmaker
Spicy Dish = Explosives
Meal = Explosion
Oven = Remote detonator safety
Pepper = Blackpowder
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