The Whole Truth
A/N: Welcome to my silly world of Emmett and Rose a la Foodnetwork! Miss Yellowglue and Mz. Aleighy helped me through this, and will, hopefully, guide me until the end of this tale. It was a joy to contribute the first three chapters of this story for the FADV compilation.
~~~Em~~~
"Do you think it will fit?"
"Yeah?"
"Because you know things could get messy if it doesn't."
"I think I might need a bib."
"Bella! I need a bib stat!"
*Wild Cheering*
"And there you have it folks. One proscuttio-stuffed portobello mushroom down the chute in one bite. Dang, I love this job."
~~~~R~~~~
"This is how many dishes are dirtied to make one batch of traditional belgian waffles."
"Yeah, the whipped egg whites do make them fluffy, but the ugly truth is that I'd rather eat an Eggo than have to clean this much after breakfast."
"Do you think we can solve the problem? Make this atrocity into something delicious?"
"I think Edward needs to come out and do the dishes first."
*Laughter*
"Edward! Put on your apron, SweetCheeks, the people need clean dishes!"
"So while he does that, I'm going to mix up a simple, whole-wheat batter that can be used for pancakes or waffles, show you how to infuse a syrup, and do it all with half the dishes."
~~~Em~~~
I get home that night and am famished, as usual. You'd think prepping stuffed mushrooms in every possible stage of development, and then eating half a dozen for the audience would fill me, but it never does.
There are no leftovers. I always leave them for the crew. Especially poor Bella, bless her. She's like that chick from "Tool Time" that Pam Anderson played, except she actually went through culinary school.
She packed the rest of the shrooms up to take home for her and her Dad, and I raced home just in time to plop on the couch and catch the end of Rosie's show.
"Edward! Put your apron on, SweetCheeks, the people need clean dishes!"
I hate that guy. His eyebrows are so annoying, and I can never figure out if he and Rose have a thing going or not.
The truth is that she scares the shit out of me.
~~~~R~~~~
Rose goes home to a refrigerator stuffed full of fancy, feminine, finger foods. She is so, so glad that she spent the weekend folding tiny sheets of phyllo dough just so, because the thought of having to eat one more heavy, whole wheat waffle for dinner makes her body feel grossly green.
She hangs up her apron. It's her transition from work to home. Her Mama always told her that real cooks have dirty behinds.
Going up the stairs and into her bedroom, she changes into satin jammies. They're the kind her Grandmother always wore, silky and collared, with fabric covered buttons that shine like polished stones down her front. They feel like heaven.
Reaching into her cabinets for her favorite plate, her wine glass, and some silverware, she sets a proper place setting for herself. Then, and only then, does she sit and eat her single serving of baklava, with a fluffy spinach torte to compliment it.
The TV has been left on all day for Maizy, her Boston terrier, and she can hear that stupid brute, who's show airs in counterpoint to hers, shouting for a bib across the house.
"Bella! I need a bib, stat!"
"His sidekick is not nearly as good as my Edward.", she thinks, cramming the rest of her dinner into her mouth in one bite.