Michelle Ryan there’s no place like home

Michelle Ryan there’s no place like home

Michelle Ryan had made a name for herself on Eastenders. Later she had gone to America and had made a decent way for herself in America as well. She was now returning to the UK to visit, having a few weeks off in between tapings. Little did she know that her friends and family had a little welcome home surprise ready and waiting for her when she arrived home in the UK. They also wanted to make sure that she remembered where she came from and was not developing a big, Hollywood sized ego. They were going to treat her to all of her favourite English foods that she did not get in America, but it was to be in a way that she could never have possible imagined.

A close family member picked her up from the airport. They were careful not to let on to Michelle in the car what was going on. Although, they were acting a little out of the ordinary and Michelle was getting a little suspicious, but she never would have dreamed what was in store for her. When she finally arrived at the house, she noticed that the lights were on in the garage. Her family member suggested that they enter via the garage rather than the front door. This was a bit unusual. Michelle complied though. The two reached down and opened the garage door. When it was opened and Michelle lifted her head, she was greeted by the sight of all of her friends and family there waiting for her. There were welcome home signs and what appeared to be a buffet waiting. Michelle was overjoyed. She was so happy to see everyone. She hadn’t seen then in ages. She had missed everyone. She hugged everyone and shook their hand, thanking them. Little did she know, that in a few minutes she would be doing anything but thanking them.

Her sibling now piped up. “Welcome home Michelle. We are so glad to have you back. It is really great. What you don’t know is that we have something special planned for you as a sort of welcome home surprise.” “Oh, great, what’s that? I love surprises,” Michelle said, never dreaming that it may be something that she would not want to happen. “ If you will take a seat Michelle, we have arranged a great deal of British food for you, sort of a reminder of home. All the things that you can’t get in America. You must be craving them, so we have got them all here for you. Unfortunately, you will not be eating them, instead, you will be wearing them.” A perplexed, confused look flashed across Michelle’s face. At first she didn’t get what she meant. She looked around, saw the plastic garden chair and the containers of food and realized what was going on. “Oh lord,” she uttered to herself as she sat down into the chair provided.

“So, sit back and relax while we serve you up some of your favourite foods. Hopefully they will remind you of home.” “You are too kind,” Michelle responded. “Now, I bet you haven’t had any Devonshire custard in sometime.” “I can’t say that I have,” she responded. In a semi-sarcastic tone because she knew what was about to happen now. “Well let’s see to that right now,” she said. She grabbed the familiar carton. The top was cut off for easy pouring. She lifted the carton up and said,” Welcome home, we missed you.” She then proceeded to pour the custard over Michelle’s head. Michelle shook her head and closed her eyes as the custard flowed over her brown hair and down her face and body, all over her chest and hands. She splashed the custard with her hands, having a good time in it, as much as she could. The yellow custard coated her hair and shoulders. Some went down her back and onto her lap.

“Now, I hear that a lot of people get annoyed because they can’t get salad cream abroad. Well, today, we have all the salad cream for you that you could ever possibly want.” She produced a catering sized bottle of salad cream. It was the bottle that everyone recognised. She flipped the lid and stood a few inches from Michelle. She then squeezed the bottle, sending salad cream squirting at Michelle. She moved it around and did it several more times, spraying it into her face and onto her chest. She then got closer and moved the bottle around over Michelle’s body, spraying thick lines of sloppy salad cream onto her body, all over her jeans and her black halter top. Michelle giggled and flailed her hands about as she was hit with the salad cream. She laughed and flailed about. “I don’t even like salad cream,” she said.

“Well, next is something that people either love or hate, much like salad cream. You know it, you love it. Yes it is marmite.” Michelle’s eyes widened. “Marmite, seriously,” she thought to herself. Michelle’s friends and family were certainly committed, because it was not easy to mess someone with marmite. The stuff was sticky and sloppy and really hard to even spread. They had a hard time with it. In the end, they ended up getting a spoon and prying the stuff from the jar. They dropped the whole contents of the jar out and straight down Michelle’s cleavage. She squealed as she felt it fall down her top. It stuck in place between her breasts. Her mother then walked up and pushed her hand into Michelle’s chest, squashing the marmite onto her chest.

“Now, tomato relish is another favourite topping that it is used mainly over here,” her mother said. A large jar of tomato relish was produced. Michelle blushed. She looked up and laughed , knowing what was about to happen. Her mother popped open the lid of the jar and tossed it aside. She then quickly lifted it up and turned it over straight onto the top of her daughter’s head. The thick sloppy relish slowly made is way from the jar, dropping onto Michelle’s hair and down her face. It soon covered her forehead almost entirely and continued dumping down over her face and down the front of her body. It was juicy and read. It was very lumpy. It matched the colour of Michelle’s lips. It rolled down her shoulders and the front of her body. Most of her face was covered in its sloppiness. “I feel like a burger,” she joked.

“I think that you must have some mushy peas next. You just can’t get that in America,” her father said. He came forward with a bucket filled with the incredibly thick green substance. He brought it over to Michelle and began to dump it all over her. She closed her eyes as the peas poured over the top of her head, down her dark brown hair, covering her fringe. It fell all around her, onto her legs, over her chest, onto her backside, even. Blobs of it fell everywhere. Michelle looked up and held her arms up as if to say,” Oh well, then, go ahead, let me have it.” The mushy peas poured directly onto her face. She even opened her mouth and held her tongue out as it continued to pour over her.

“Speaking of the chip shop, we have some lovely chip shop style curry here for you as well,” Michelle childhood friend said. Michelle rolled her eyes. “Ok then,” she said, resigned to her fait. “Let me have it then.” She closed her eyes as her friend carried over a styrofoam  container, just like you would get from the chip shop. She took the plastic lid off and then moved it back and forth in her hands, smiling and laughing. She then slowly tipped the imitation curry sauce onto Michelle. It poured down one side of her face and her hair. It was a light brown colour. It was smooth and sloppy. It coated one side of her head, covering her dark hair. It coated her shoulders and poured down her neck. It coated her lips. Michelle looked forward as she was totally saturated in the thick curry sauce.

“How about some jellied eels and whelks to go along with it?,” her friend said. She then produced a plastic bucket, the sort that was used for crabbing. It was filled with bits and pieces of the very English seafood. It was all grey and white and seemed to be covered in some sort of sloppy jelly like substance. The girl rushed over and in one movement, dropped the contents of the bucket on top of Michelle Ryan. The girl who used to play Zoe Slater now was covered in East end style seafood. The sloppy bits of jelly mess stuck all over her body. Bits stuck to her face and hair. A great deal of it also collected in her lap and in her cleavage.  She opened one eye and laughed. It felt very slimy. She rubbed her arms and giggled.

“Now, did you know that chicken tikka masala has now become the number one dish in the whole UK?, another of her friends asked. “Uh, yeah, II was aware of that, yes,” Michelle said. “Well, we know you love it, so it is time to have a taste.” She brought over a large bucket filled with real tikka masala. It was the real stuff as well. The proper dark red tikka masala that would stain a table cloth, not the cheap frozen stuff. It was filled with chicken chunks and topped with cream. Michelle’s friend delighted in lifting the bucket over her friend. Michelle looked up and closed her eyes this time. The curry began to fall on her. The first bit was a huge blob of chicken that landed full on onto her face. It fell and tumbled down her body as the thick tikka poured down onto her, overwhelming her senses. It really was delicious and she was experiencing it full on. She smiled as it continued to drop all over her.

“Now, I think that you must be in the mood for a full English,” said her father. He produced an enormous bucket, which he drew everyone’s attention to. In the bucket was everything that you could imagine that would be included in an English breakfast. Eggs, sausages, bacon, mushrooms, baked beans, bubble and squeak, black pudding, hash browns, tinned tomatoes. There was even a fried slice in their somewhere. It was all mixed together in a nauseating conglomeration of food stuffs. All of the bits were equally mixed together, yet still wholly recognisable in their own right. This made it look all the more disgusting. Michelle’s parents decided to let her have it together. “Welcome home, honey,” they said. They lifted the bucket over Michelle and began to pour. Michelle was served her full English. It was all a reddish orange colour. Bits of all of the breakfast items poured down over Michelle Ryan. They smelled like a mixture of beans, meat and grease. Larger bits bounced off of her and slid down her body.  The varying bits of breakfast stuck to her face and hair. Beans and tomatoes were everywhere. The mess poured and poured. Michelle’s face was soon covered in individual bits of the food.  Her clothes were soaked. Mushrooms stuck to her nose. She had black pudding on her forehead. Bacon dangled from her chin. She had a hash brown between her breasts. Just to name a few.

“Welcome home Michelle. We missed you. You have become such a big star, but never forget where you come from.” “Well,” she said,” There is no place like home,” she said with a laugh. Everyone came up and gave her a hug.