The Pressure Cooker's Secret Ingredient

It was a Thursday night, the kind that's perfect for binge-watching tragic love stories and entirely inappropriate reality TV shows. But for Lane, it was the night to confront a deep, dark secret—or rather to discover one.

Lane rummaged through his friend's kitchen, looking for the elusive bottle of malt whiskey they'd hidden from him. Kyle had promised Lane they would christen their new apartment with a proper drink, but Kyle was nowhere to be found. Instead, Lane came upon the Instant Pot Duo 7-in-1 Electric Pressure Cooker, gleaming under the dim kitchen lights like a sci-fi relic.

"Well, isn't this fancy," Lane muttered, poking at it with his index finger.

As Lane pondered whether an alien queen would burst forth from the contraption, the door swung open. Kyle entered, juggling three grocery bags and a victorious grin.

"Caught you red-handed," Kyle teased, setting the bags down. "Trying to replace me with technology, huh?"

"Nah," Lane replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just curious about this modern-day cauldron you've got here."

Kyle chuckled. "Oh, this? It's an Instant Pot Duo 9-in-1 Electric Pressure Cooker. A marvel of human ingenuity! It’s not just for mundane soups or rice—you can use it for literally anything. I even made crème brûlée in it last weekend."

"Crème brûlée, really?” Lane arched an eyebrow, unimpressed but intrigued.

"Yep, but tonight, it's gonna help us catch a thief," Kyle declared, pulling a small, black notebook from one of the grocery bags.

Lane's curiosity turned into full-blown skepticism. "Explain."

Kyle flipped open the notebook, revealing what looked like a hastily sketched treasure map. "We've got a mini-thief in our building. Someone's been filching our snacks and replacing them with...wait for it...tofu."

"Oh no, the cruelty," Lane deadpanned.

Kyle ignored the sarcasm. "But tonight is the night we lure the fiend. With this!"

He held up a raw chicken, as though he'd just won it at a carnival game.

"Okay, you expect to A) leave it out and B) not have the whole apartment stink?" Lane scoffed.

"No, no, you impatient Neanderthal. We cook it in the Instant Pot! Make it irresistible. Then, when the thief sneaks in, we'll catch 'em red-handed. Simple."

Despite the absurdity of the plan, Lane found himself roped into it. The chicken went into the Instant Pot along with a medley of house-permeating herbs and spices. Thirty minutes later, their apartment smelled like heaven’s personal rotisserie.

"Are you sure the smell won't attract the entire building?" Lane asked, between bites of a hastily-made sandwich.

"That's the beauty. It's the thief we want. Our apartment has become a beacon of temptation."

As midnight approached, Lane and Kyle hid behind the couch like two grown men who most definitely should not be doing this. Minutes turned into hours, and just as they were about to give up, the door creaked open.

A shadowy figure tiptoed inside, heading straight for the kitchen. The thief picked up the sealed Instant Pot lid and—

BANG!

Not really. It was just Lane accidentally bumping into the lamp as he stood up. The thief froze, and Lane, ever the subtle one, yelled out, "Gotcha!"

Kyle flicked on the lights, revealing Mrs. Worthington, the elderly lady from two apartments down, clutching a jar of homemade gravy.

"Mrs. Worthington?" they both exclaimed.

"Oh dear," she said, adjusting her oversized glasses. "I can explain."

And she did—turns out Mrs. Worthington had been partaking in their snacks for weeks, feeling lonely and always tempted by the aroma wafting through the building. The tofu was her misguided attempt at a fair trade.

Lane and Kyle couldn't help but laugh. "Why didn't you just ask to have dinner with us, Mrs. W?" Lane said, regaining his breath.

"Well, if the offer still stands..." she replied, eyeing the Instant Pot with a childlike eagerness.

The trio ended the night sharing Instant Pot chicken and planning weekly dinners, creating a bond a meal cooked in a Marvel of Human Ingenuity could only enhance.