Six words

The words:

Regulation
Crop
Sheet
Food
Coma
Belong

My effort

Napoleon undid his belt buckle and groaned as he slumped back on the couch. “I ate so much, I feel like slipping into a coma.”

Illya rolled his head towards him. “You are now one of us. You belong to the Kuryakin clan. What better way to celebrate bringing in a successful crop than with a feast?”

“At least I ate the regulation amount of your mother’s borscht.”

“She keeps a tally on a sheet, you know.”

“I figured as much.” He smiled at the figure carrying a platter from the kitchen. “So, now what?”

“The best of all – dessert!”