Archive for October 1, 2009

Baking a Cake

She stuck the end of the long, glass pipette into the sticky brown mixture and began to stir vigorously, her cheeks slowly reddening from the exertion. Mirae was sleeping inside her discarded satchel, and Analith was happily tearing leaves apart at her feet; letting forth a stream of nonsensical babble. At the sound of a chime from behind, she glanced over her shoulder at her husband, whose noiseless entrance was only exposed by the bell attached to the front door. He grunted at her in distracted greeting, she nodded back and returned to the job at hand; panting slightly as the glass pipette scraped the edges of the large bronze pot.

“How is the cake going?”

“Fi-ine-” she gasped, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. Strands of grass-green hair, loose from the red headscarf, stuck sweatily to her pink forehead. Unstrapping the various weapons attached to his person whilst pecking each infant dutifully, Aphel peered over her shoulder. His lined brow crinkled further, in slight bewilderment.

“Why are you using your alchemical apparatus for cooking?”

“You think I’m going to waste money on buying a special cake tin and wooden spoons when I have a round container and a long thin object right here in the shop?!” she demanded indignantly, discarding the pipette on the wooden counter and dipping a finger into the gluey mixture. Licking her finger, a crooked smile of satisfaction crept across her face. Propping his gun up on the gunrack beside the stairs, Aphel frowned once more in her direction.

“What flavour of cake is it supposed to be? And stop eating that raw, it’s unhealthy.”

“Chocolate and bacon” she replied as she carryied the cauldron across to the clay oven in the corner of the room, lifting a knee to balance the pot precariously as she opened the front hatch. Aphel’s jaw dropped slightly.

“Chocolate and what?

“BACON.”

“Huh.”

“I think you need an ear-trumpet, Shan’do. You’re getting deaf in your old age.” she called meanly, punctuating her words by elbowing the dented hatch violently until it locked shut. Aphel rolled his eyes, stepping over Analith and lowering himself into a chair beside the bookshelf. “Cheeky wench.”

Advertisements

Comments (4) »