Take 1: Not great, not bad, but the cheese congealed before we could do the proper reveal.
Take 2: The light wasn’t hitting the broad side of the dumpling, plus the camera dropped into the pot and everyone is covered in marinara sauce.
Take 3: Incredible take, but the lens cap was on and there wasn’t a memory card in the camera and the camera was facing the wrong way.
Take 4: On paper, an incredible shot through and through, but the vibes emanating from the dumpling were abysmal. Sending our PA to scout out good vibes.
Take 5: The dumpling looked soggy, like a beige soccer ball dipped in pond scum. Everybody feels embarrassed and self-conscious.
Take 6: Someone walked into the studio and completely ruined the shot. We all hiss and spit.
Take 7: Too much sauce. Plus, everyone seems distracted about the sheer futility of life.
Take 8: Not enough sauce, if we split the difference between too much sauce and not enough sauce, the perfect amount of sauce will be achieved.
Take 9: Our hand model’s fingers are too slippery and sallow.
Take 10: Everyone got a case of the giggles during the part where we tilt the camera down to reveal the hidden bacon layer, so we need a wider lens or a larynx operation.
Take 11: Turns out someone accidentally swapped flour for borax. Someone’s getting fired for this.
Take 12: It was I who accidentally grabbed the borax; subconsciously I must have known that no one in their right mind would keep extra flour under the sink in a utility closet in a container labeled “100% borax.”
Take 13: Great shot, perfect in every way, except we accidentally made key lime cheesecake bites.
Take 14: Too sluggish at the onset, probably from all the borax everyone consumed. The PA is back with a fresh satchel of good vibes.
Take 15: Virtually perfect in every way, except in the way we desire.
Take 16: In the excitement of achieving the perfect internal temperature of the cheese, the crew all forgot how hot the cheese was and now we’re all being treated for second-degree burns at the local hospital.
Take 17: Amazing setup, however forgot to include the lasagna dumplings.
Take 18: Maybe the lasagna dumpling is, perhaps, more of an omnipotent conceptual symbol than it is a physical object? If we imagine the dumplings to be what’s missing from our lives, does that equate a full life?
Take 19: Sales keeps asking us when we’re going to be done; we suspect they want leftovers.
Take 20: We figured out that the real lasagna dumpling was deep without our hearts the entire time, so we just decided to eat it.
Jeremy Glass is a writer from New York who spends his weekends eating noodles and writing fake bios for aspiring writers on Craigslist. Here’s his Twitter.
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