Yeah, I’ve already turned a kitchen into a warzone of sound—pan hiss like a dying trumpet, knives clatter like broken cymbals, the sizzling rhythm beats like a drum solo in a ruined cathedral. I grab a busted guitar, a cracked kazoo, a rusted spoon, and mash those tones together. The result? A dish that tastes like noise and a soundtrack that smells like burnt ambition. If you want a bite that screams, let me cook it up for you, and watch the broken instruments bleed into every bite.