"It's just custard, right? It'll be fine!"

Oh, how wrong those words were.

Ash had come to visit Brock for Flint, Brock's dad, who was celebrating his 60th birthday, and whilst Brock was using his extraordinary cooking skills to create a magnificent banquet... Ash... well, Ash wasn't.

"Look, Ash, I spent so long organizing things for mom and dad and Forest and all my other siblings so they wouldn't be here and I have to cook the Magikarp fritters, the Tauros burgers, the Slowpoke tails.. I just don't have enough time to create the mixture for the crème brulee! Just mix everything up and cook it, do not, and I repeat, do not use the-"

"Okay, okay!"

The two made their way over to the far end of the courtyard that housed on one side the Pewter family gym, and on the other the Harrison family house.

As they entered the house the delectable smell of frying meat entered Ash's ever-hungry nostrils, and he suddenly perked up.

"Hey, Brock-o, you already started cooking the.." He sniffed carefully."...Tauros burgers?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. But I need to quickly go to the Pokémart and grab a few supplies... Everything you need is in the cupboard on the right." Brock added after a momentary pause.

"Okay, but-" Ash began, but Brock was already out of the door.".. Rude."

Ash hummed as he scrolled to the internet on his Pokétch, opening the link Brock had sent him to a crème brulee recipe and began to murmur things along the lines of:

"Ah, the KBC.. never let me down.."

"Ooh, it's by.. Albern Geroux... chef of the.. Lumiose City's Le Yeah? Clemont'd like that..."

"Crème Brulee.. creeeme brulee, cremmme brulee, crème bruleeee.."

Eventually he began the long and arduous task of actually doing what he was supposed to.

.

"Right! Step one.. Preheat the oven and... well, the Tauros burgers are cooking, so I guess that's already done... pour the cream into a small saucepan... ah, it burns! Split the vanilla pod lengthways...ah, I cut myself!"

And so on and so forth.

Somehow he actually managed to get to step nine which entailed the mystical transformation of an oven.

Also, somehow Brock isn't back yet, for some unknown reason otherwise known as a plotline.

Everyone gasps.

"Watchin' an oven, 'cause it's doin' oven things, yeah!

"Hmm, maybe I'd better read ahead.. blah-dy blah-dy blaah, chilling, sugaring, caramelizing- Blowtorch?!"

As if it couldn't get any worse.

"Ooh, Brock didn't tell me not to do this, I guess he meant I could, innocent until proven guilty, right?" Ash hopped around the kitchen in anticipation, pulling out the barely cooked crème brulees.

Let's take a moment to look at the facts.

A barely fifteen year old boy was invited to his considerably older best friend's father's 60th birthday party. The best friend goes out to get supplies, whilst he leaves the boy alone with a.. blowtorch.

Now, imagine you are scarcely 19 and you come back to your home, a day before your father's birthday and find your house very much on fire.

Ash and Brock are two of my favourite characters, and I don't want to put the blame on either of them.

Let's just say it was all Flint's fault for having a birthday.