"Blown Up"
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I went in the kitchen to whip up something to eat. I wasn't really hungry, but I felt the need to impress my teacher, my instructor, my cooking role model, Cooking Mama, as people would call her. Her real name remains a mystery to me. Cooking Mama was awfully short. She had a little body, but a big head, like she's a bobble head toy.
She has brunette hair. She usually wears an orange apron over a white shirt. Cooking Mama would sometimes wears her glasses, only when she's deeply disappointed at someone. Cooking Mama always wanted me to learn how to cook. She wants me to be independent and whatnot. She wants me to learn how to take care of myself.
I walk in the kitchen and pull out some pots and pans. I see Cooking Mama sitting on a wooden stool, leaning forward in interest to see what I will cook. I was cooking something simple, something that's not that much of a piece of work, as Cooking Mama calls it. I was preparing chocolate cake that would have strawberry frosting on it.
Yummy! I know that's Cooking Mama's favorite type of cake, too. I got out the chocolate cake mix, poured it into a bowl, cracked a couple of eggs, put some milk in it, and began to stir. My arm was growing tired from all of the stirring, but I still kept going. Cooking Mama smiles and nods her head.
"Looks good!" She said in her accent that I always found funny.
I smile to myself, knowing that Cooking Mama was fairly impressed. Feeling a bit cocky, I began to stirring the mix more rapidly, causing some of the chocolate mix to splash on Cooking Mama. Her smile was washed away and she began wiping the chocolate off of her.
"Take it easy," she warned, getting the chocolate mix out of her hair.
I look at her, frowning, knowing that she wasn't impressed anymore.
"Sorry, Cooking Mama," I apologetically said.
I eased up on the stirring. I turned the oven on and popped the cake mix in the oven.
"Good job!" Cooking Mama complimented, finally done with getting all of the cake mix out of her hair.
"Thank you, Cooking Mama!" I bowed.
Suddenly, the room had a stench of something burning. Raising my brow, I went to go check the oven. Cooking Mama leaned forward in her stool, looking over at me in curiosity.
"What's that smell?" She asked, scrunching up her nose.
"I don't know, I think it's the cake," I said slowly, turning the oven off.
I rapidly take the cake out of the oven with oven mittens and set it up on the counter top. Cooking Mama and I peer at the cake. Suddenly, the cake makes a weird noise and the cake suddenly blows up. Chunks of cake bits went all over on Cooking Mama's face. I was beyond horrified. I remembered saying sorry to her about a million times.
I always wondered why the cake blew up like that. It still remains a mystery to me. I didn't need to know how Cooking Mama felt because while I was helping her clean up, she wore those damn glasses.
The End!!!
And that's the end of my Cooking Mama Cook Off story. Thank you for reading and please review.