Aradiatori -- Or the Gospel of the Kitchens~ As lexicon'd by Alien Soda JerkChapter 1
Yarrr . . . In these waning days of Piracy, the Dark Lord Darwin has found dominion all over the globe. His foul Evolution establishes itself as the intellectual overlord of the planet with its evil facts and cursed observational instances in nature. Reason and evidence snake their way into the minds of mankind, harboring to us delusions of an Earth that is billions of years old and populations that change with allele frequencies. Healthy low-carb diets and rational investigation of phenomena plague our wonderful fantasy world. Verily, the pirates of today live under the control of the Science Inquisition. It watches everything, monitoring caloric intake and making it heresy to partake in "foods of the fat." But in some parts of the world, there still survive followers of the Old Religion.
[9 also]. . . They are the Pasta Witches of New Jersey.
Garbed in crimson witch robes as red as tomato sauce, with tri-corner hats sewn directly into the hood, and big shiny buckles that swung to and fro, they dare to test (but not, like, scientifically) the rule of Darwin. They live in secrecy to avoid the swiveling lenses of the Inquisition, and hidden away in darkened Italian bistros they practice the Old Religion of the Pirates. In bubbling cauldrons they brew the forbidden pleasures of linguini, fusilli, capellini, and vermicelli. They chant their invocations of surly sea shanties and drink sacred grog to explore altered states of awareness. Also it affected their balance and made them walk like they were actually on a rocking ship, so they called it holy for that too. On moonlit nights, they gather in flowing fields of wheat and ride around on brooms outfitted to look like pirate ships, with jibs, aftcastles, rudders, figureheads, and little anchor keychains. And they toss black throw pillows at each other, sinking into the grainy waves if hit, in reenactment of the heroic battles the Old Pirates fought on the high seas. And cloistered away in groups of 13 (that be a baker's dozen), they would invoke the pagan goddess... the Flying Spaghetti Mistress.
The Pasta Witches worshipped the Old Gods of Wheat and Carbs. For like pasta, the gods of the witches came in many forms. There be the Pirate God, the embodiment of all dude pirates and chefs. And then there be the Flyin' Spaghetti Mistress, pagan goddess of all things Grain and Noodly. And there was the amorphous Glob, a mass of living noodles as formless as the cosmos itself. Some of the witches saw the Mistress as a woman made entirely of pasta. Others believed She was the mass of noodles, the universe being her and floating within her. Others insisted that at one point She was the Pirate God, and took on a female form on a drunken dare because that's what all-powerful male deities do when they're plastered: turn into a female and grope themselves while their friends laugh and take pictures on their smartphones. All of Them were One. Or many. Both. Chapter 2
One day, all of the witches of the New Brunswick coven gathered around a bubbling black stove in they found in the woods to celebrate of their holiest heathen holidays — the Summer Saustice. The pasta witches were all in attendance, and the high priestess, Silver RavenFork, spaketh to her crew o' morons:
"Ahoy, me landlubbin' witches! We be gathered 'eer on this night 'o the Cooling Winds ta celebrate one o' arrrgh saltiest o' holidays, the Summer Saucestice! According to the Cook Book o' Shadows, the year be divided into a Boiling half and a Simmering half. On the Winter Saucestice, the Ninja God takes control and piracy wanes, causing the warmer weather of Spring and Summer."
The witches exchanged glances and murmured at how much they hate that guy.
RavenFork continued, "But on the Summer Saucestice, the our Pirate God, Vermillunnos, who hath feet like sporks, taketh over, and piracy thrives, lowering the temperature and bringing what we witches (and the rest of the brainwashed world) call Fall and Winter."
At that, the witches celebrated, for they really liked this guy. "Let us call to our Spork-Footed God! Vermillunnos!" she said kinda tired-like, as though she didn't really care to be there.
"RING RING!!!" the witches called, holding their hands to their heads, thumb and pinky sticking out, "RING RING!"
Then the high priestess held up a fork and traced a star in the air, speaking aloud the Four Elements of Nature as she did so: "Wheat, Meat, Sauce, and Season! Come to this circle and feed us Heathens!"
And the bubbling stove did bubble with bubbling bubbliness. And from the stove arrrrgh-rose a figure. It stood like a man, but had the head of an elk. Or a gazelle. Maybe some kind of mutant reindeer. I dunno. Ye getteth the point. He be decked out in the most lavish of pirate regalia. And his antlers were made of polished metal forks. For He be the Horny God -- Vermillunnos. And upon fully manifesting, He did lift a hooved leg by the knee with his hand, and struck the Holy Pose, for He had a little captain in Him.
At that sign, and also the stove's timer dinged, the high priestess knew she had invoked the Captainly Consort. She spaekeathe, "Avast, Spirit o' Pagan Piraticalness! Consort of the Flyin' Spaghetti Mistress! Swashbuckler of Seasons!" Silver rambled, just sorta making things up as she went, "On this night, we celebrate Ye overthrowing the oppressively warm and bright Ninja God, bringing us in cooler temperatures and the lessened reasoning skills of the Halloween and ChriFSMas season! All Hail the Pirate God!" Silver RavenFork announced.
"ALL HAIL THE PIRATE GOD! ALL HAIL VERMILLUNNOS!" chanted the witches.
The high priestess continued, anemically waving her fist, "HAIL THE PIRATE GOD!"
"WE JUST SAID THAT DAMMIT!" the witches chanted again.
"Great Horny God of the Pirates," Silver began, "what be in the winds o' this year? Tell us the cosmic tides, and we shall sail upon them it if we feel like it!"
And Vermillunnos did just stand there, not really responding, swaying back n' forth even though He wasn't going nowhere. Eventually, and with an unnecessarily emphatic gesture, He did slur out a few garbled words, for He was Hammered with his Piratical Holiness.
The high priestess then turned to her acolyte, "Throw ye the divination runes! Let the universe reveal our Captain's Noodly Wisdom!" The acolyte cast a tankard of rotelle, conchiglie, and radiatori across a stone cutting board, and readied to interpret how they fell. Meanwhile, the Vermillunnos did eye one o' the hotter witches, and did stagger away after her as she ran screaming. Then the acolyte gasped. A lone bit of radiatori came out upon the board; all the other pieces stuck to the inside of the cup without explanation.
"My stelline above..." she saideth aloudetheth, "It be Her! The Noodly Daughter arriveth!" Chapter 3
Aye... the Noodly Daughter... a figure prophecized long ago in the year something by somebody. Accordin' ta the Cook Book o' Shadows, there would be a time when the Flyin' Spaghetti Mistress would send forth Her daughter, a maiden who was both totally human and totally pasta, to teach the witches of New Jersey the Old Ways of the Pirates. And Silver RavenFork did tremble at this revelation, for she was not used to serious things that didn't involve glitter, stickers, and other silly 13-year-old girl things. The pasta witches did cook up many cups of ramen noodles and stayed up the whole night pondering the starry currents that were convecting ahead of them.
A few days later, two of the witches were lounging in a field of wheat, making magical anchor charms out of straw. They spoke of Noodly Things but keel-hauled their flabbing lips as their eyes caught wind of a band of ninja inquisitors in full karate attire sneaking toward them,  which was actually kinda easy to see because they were wearing all black in a field of light brown wheat, but anyway... The witches knew that if their piracy were discovered, the Science Inquisition would have them burned at the elliptical, and it would be turned onto that really high resistance setting, and their thighs would totally feel like they were on fire. But just as the ninjas stretched their arms out, a miracle did occur! The tall, wheaty grass came to life, and seized the evil ninjas where they stood! And the grass ensnared the ninjas and pulled them down inta' the Earth itself, and they vanished beneath the grainy soil.
The witches looked at the spot where their attackers had just been, flabbergasted (they were also a tiny bit drunk and so were already flabbergasted about many things, but at this happening, sharply more so). Then a breeze did pick up, and outta the wind-blown strands of wheat, a maiden took form! Her witch robe be tattered and black with a jolly roger on the front, a real tricorner hat adorned her head, straws of wheat flowed with her hair as though a natural part of it, a treasure chest satchet hung by her waist, and nautical trinkets from all over the globe adorned her buckle. The mysterious maiden did look at the witches and spaeketh to them a long and eloquent greeting:
By the next Full Moon, all of the pasta witches assembled around the black stove in the forest to see for themselves the Flyin' Spaghetti Mistress' own Daughter. The Noodly Daughter was totally hot, both attractively and thermally, for she was conceived in a stainless steel pot over a high flame for nine freakin' months. And she raised up her hand and spoketh to her witches:
"Avast me humble pirates, ye who practice the Old Religion! Me name be Aradiatori! Daughter of the Flyin' Spaghetti Mistress!  I have come from the Celestial Cabinet above the Earthly Countertop ta' teach to ye the Secrets of the Noodle, for the tide has come for a Revival of the Old Ways and to take back the land from the false Darwinist church!"
And with that, Aradiatori did wave her hands in a surly fashion, and great banquet of Lost Pasta Cuisine did materialize before them. And the pasta witches did celebrate the arrival of their Queen of the Pirates, and they went shmorgishborg on the feast. Chapter 4
Haunting the forests at night, the witches practiced their lost arts by the guidance of the the Noodly Daughter. Aradiatori taught them the magical powers locked away within all things made from grain and of the alchemical properties of every last alchoholic beverage. They levitated linguine with their thoughts, and looked through rigatone to see into dimensions beyond the range o' scientific instruments. They talked to strands of wheat and drank 'til they started talkin' back. And they visited and explored the Beer Volcano for themselves, by using the ancient art of pastral projection to leave their meaty shells and soar above the trees as noodles soar through bubbling water, all the while safely connected to their bodies by a Silver Noodle. They would tie nine knots into a strand of Angelhair pasta, before attaching a Conchiglie Rigate to one end, and then scrying through the Cook Book o' Shadows with it, but Aradiatori warned that that the Pieces o' Nine bodes ill on the Waning Gibbous Moon. And the witches did argue over what the hell a Waning Gibbous Moon is.
To guide them in their Craft, Araditori explained how to conduct themselves with the Kitchen Rede: "An it parm' none, chew as ye will," meaning as long as no one throws parmesan in yer face, ye must treat them nicely.
Aradiatori bewitched their imaginations with the ancient and forgotten myths of the Pirates. She told them of the midgets and midgits, of Fearsome Pirate Pete, of the mysterious disappearance of Solipsy, and of how Platypus Enthusiast always got his butt kicked in the Holy Sword Fights o' Foam. And they observed the alternating seasonal festivals the correct way, for Silver RavenFork had gotten a lot of historical information wrong. She told them of how on the Spring Equinox, Vermillunnos totally nails the Flyin' Spaghetti Mistress, impregnating her with the noodles that would become the laws of nature. And how every year on Halloween He gets totally wasted and passes out in a field, only to be sucked up by a passing farm combine harvester (piloted by a certain buzzed Mistress) and made into next year's pasta. Then He kinda shows up again without explanation, to start the cycle all over. Like Kenny. 'Cuz He's awesome and doesn't learn.
And they celebrated this rockin' eternal cycle, in which renewed ingredients are once again added to the Mistress, within Womb (haha it sounds like "whom") all the Cosmos exists. Aradiatori led their chant: "Hail the Mistress, full of new pasta again! Hail Her! Nail Her! For the Flyin' Spaghetti Mistress be a Tipsy Airhead that does not take much to lay!"
To combat the Darwinists and their rigid analytical protocol, Aradiatori taught her witches the ancient and silly rituals the Old Pirates did to keep safe from Logic and Reason. She bid them to abandon societal norms and be nood as noodles are in their rites. She invited them to go skinny dipping along the beach, and perform saucy rituals under the moon (both R-rated and literally involving spaghetti sauce). And with these they liberated their minds from reasonable consideration of how they looked to others. "Feel ye no embarrassment to wear a kitchen apron and nothing underneath! For all acts of stove and leisure are my rituals!"
They built their own sailing ships and traveled the seas as the Old Pirates did before. They landed in Spain, where Aradiatori came upon a town where the people ate nothing but blasphemous paella, a miserable concoction of Valencian rice. And so with her magical cooking powers, Aradiatori extracted the hated rice and in its place put vermicelli, and called this new dish Fideua. And the Spaniards rejoiced at the sight of pasta, and they baptized their young ones in the meal, and Aradiatori back away from them slowly.
After many months of traveling and teaching abroad, Aradiatori and her coven of witches had started a cult following, and covens of Pastafaro-paganism had arisen all over the American continent. Biology and physics students by the thousands abandoned their studies to work pasta magic after having the falsehoods of the Darwinist church exposed before them. The Darwinists took a horrible blow and lost many of their fold.
Aradiatori and her coven traveled to Germany, where pasta was a horrifyingly rare dish. Away in the forests, they showed the German college students to brew Orzo, but couldn't tell if they were happy or angry with them. It was then that an older man appeared. He appeared as an Ivy League university professor, wearing a tweed jacket, khaki pants, and ninja mask — an inquisitor from the Church of Darwin! But lo, by the time the witches noticed him, a horde of ninjas had dropped down from the trees, surrounding them from all sides like a pot surrounds pasta.
Their hands bound, Aradiatori and her witches were taken away and brought to a University courtyard. A row of ellipticals had been brought out before them, a panel of evolutionists watching. The Darwinists murmured to one another, hunching over and resting their chins on their hands, for they had not the energy brought to them by carbs. Strapped the exercise machines, the witches looked to one another nervously. They totally didn't want to exercise. It sucks.
Aradiatori however, sat firm. She looked unto the sky and spoke, "Flyin' Spaghetti Mistress! Maiden o' Meaty Mounds! Mother of the Mizzen Mast! Crone of the Crow's Nest! Show these land-lubbin' blasphemers the error o' their ways! Show 'em not ta trust in their idols o' logic and evidence!" The professor then pressed the button to start the preset exercise routine.
The foolish scientists exchanged puzzled glances as nothing happened, but then horror betook them! The ellipticals came to life! Their metal tube frames unwound, and heated up to a bright yellow. Floating up in the air, they formed a.... uh... form. She had skin the color o' wheat, and Her hair was a living blanket o' capellini, and she wore a red robe made out of living spaghetti sauce, which undulated and dripped at the edges but still held its blankety shape! A pair of meatballs sat between Her arms, but whether real or some form of armor could not be told. And upon Her beautiful face, googly eyes did rattle beneath smokey mascara and lashes. It be Her! The Goddess of Grain! The Flyin' Spaghetti Mistress!
The FSMistress floated over to the baffled scientists, whose pantaloons did smell of waste material. "Ahoy, me poor lost pirates," She saideth to them in a loving yet jestful voice, "Looky! I'm floating, even though I have mass!" And at this paradox, the Darwinists did black out, and the straps holding the witches dissolved, allowing Aradiatori and her witches to escape. The FSMistress looked upon Her Daughter and her witches and smiled, saying to them "There be more pirating to be done," before disappearing into a cloud of waving wheat strands.
After the Darwinists awoke, they gave up Evolution forever to live a quiet life of rowdy pirating. Aradiatori and her witches traveled onward into the distant corners o' the world, every once in a while popping up here and there, until they vanished. If ye be readin' this yarn, it means that the resistance still be alive and strong, but be forewarned that in the darkest oceanic trench, Darwin still lurks... Waiting to come back and take the world again. Arm yerself with fork and knife, for if ye stove be black, the Noodly Daughter and her coven o' Pirates may just come sailin' in one Full Moon.
-- The End --