Author's Note: Soooooo, here's Chapter 2...um...all I can say is(to quote Felix) "It's not funny enough!" I wish I could have made this funnier, but I got caught up in Vanellope's and Turbo's movement for some reason...oh, well...I did my best
Shutting the door behind him, Turbo then leaned his back against it, bringing his hands up to his head.
What had he done? He couldn't bake. He didn't know the first thing about baking. Back when he was King Candy, he had always had Sour Bill do all the cooking. Before the whole Road Blasters incident, the only things he would eat would be take out and, if he was lucky, one of the twins would cook something on occasion. Those incidents were rare and in between, but he had to admit, they were good cooks when the mood hit them.
He, on the other hand, was a horrid cook. On several occasions, he had nearly burned down the house he and twins had shared. His natural impatience and need for everything to be quick was one of his greatest weaknesses. He would always turn the heating up to its highest setting to get the dish to cook faster or he would get distracted because cooking was so mind-numbingly boring and then everything would burn.
The racer groaned and rubbed his hands down his face in sudden exhaustion. He kept his hands on his lowered face for several seconds before peeking out between his fingers, looking for his helmet. He spotted it laying on the floor next to the nightstand. It must have fallen off when he'd jumped off the bed.
Picking it up, he rubbed a sleeve over the smooth surface, clearing away nonexistent dirt or smudging. Seeing himself in the shiny surface of the headgear, he lifted the helmet up, held it at arms length, and smiled at his reflection for a moment with his signature wide grin. After a few seconds, Turbo shoved the helmet onto his head, adjusting it so that it was just right on his head. He could not stand it when his helmet was crooked.
Sighing, the racer opened the door and made his way down to the kitchen where he was sure a little sugar coated demon awaited him.
Vanellope hummed a self-assured tune as she placed all the ingredients she knew they would need onto the counter. A bowl, butter, sugar, eggs, and flour among other things were all tossed onto the counter. Turbo walked in when she was dragging over two stools for her and the older racer to sit in.
Vanellope smiled and patted one of the stools, almost like she was taunting him. Turbo, in response, turned his nose up and marched purposefully toward the stool and sat down. Vanellope hopped up onto the stool next to him, standing on it and leaning so that her hands gripped the edge of the counter. She grabbed a medium sized shiny red bowl and dragged it towards them. She then looked at Turbo with a smug, expectant expression. She waved her hand over the ingredients placed out in front of her.
"Uh..." Turbo raised his hand, twitching his fingers decisively. His eyes darted about the finger tips grasped an egg. Eggs, eggs go in cookies...of course. As he was attempting to crack it, a small peach coloured hand wrapped around his.
"Butter and sugar first, a-doi," Vanellope said. She let go of Turbo's wrist and brought her hand up to her chin. "You know, it's almost as if...you didn't know what to do."
"Psh-Of course I knew that," Turbo said a bit too quickly. "I was...testing you, of course, small fry."
"Oh, yeah, uh-huh," Vanellope said. She nodded before picking up the appropriate amounts of butter and sugar and putting them in the bowl along with a large wooden spoon. She then handed the bowl to a mildly nonplussed Turbo who held the wooden spoon like he'd never seen one before. "Now, you mix those while I mix the flour and baking powder."
The older racer sat there for a moment, staring at the contents of the bowl before putting the wooden spoon in and swirling it around. He was met with great resistance and some sugar fell out of the bowl. Sighing softly in frustration, Turbo took a firmer grip on the utensil and tried to mix the hard butter with the dustiness of the sugar. He sighed again when the spoon got caught in the butter. This is impossible, these two things are never meant to mix!
Growling, he gripped the rim of the bowl in one hand and then tried squashing the butter into the sugar with the flat part of his spoon. This proved to work a lot better. Grinning in triumph, he aggressively mixed the rest of the butter into the sugar.
Looking over at Vanellope to see how far she had progressed, he discovered she was done mixing her ingredients and had already pre-heated the oven. He stared down at his bowl of mush. Turbo's expression flattened into annoyance and his whole body seemed to deflate a bit. He placed the bowl and spoon onto the counter as Vanellope brought over her larger bowl which contained flour, baking powder, and salt.
"Now we can put in the eggs," she stated.
"Right." Turbo picked up the egg he had held previously. Baring his teeth, he tried cracking it on the side of the counter, but he ended up with egg gunk all over his fingers. Growling, he picked up another egg and tried again with the same result. He snarled, clenching his fist before reaching for another egg. This was a battle he would not lose.
Vanellope, who had up until now been observing the scene playing out before her, stopped him by grabbing his wrist for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. "You have to be gentle."
The older racer stared at the little president and growled, "These eggs are defective. We need new ones."
Vanellope laughed and took the egg that was currently grasped in Turbo's grey fingers. She then gently tapped it against the edge of the counter until it's outer shell was partially cracked then broke it into two halves over the smaller bowl. She then turned and smirked at the red and white clad racer next to her.
"Hmf, I could do that," he said. He picked up another egg and slowly brought it towards him before hovering it over the counter's edge. He stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth and tried to gently crack open the shell as he'd seen Vanellope do. The shell cracked a little too much and some egg yolk spilled out before he quickly brought the egg up and over the bowl, ripping the egg-shell in two, the egg and some small shards of egg-shell falling into the bowl.
"Haha, Turbo-tastic!" he cried in triumph, standing up on his stool and nearly toppling over as it wobbled. Spotting Vanellope staring at him, he quickly sat down. "I mean...ha, piece of pie." He waved a hand in front of him. Feeling egg-yolk sticking to the tips of his fingers, he made a disgusted noise and his fingers fluttered for a moment as his yellow eyes darted around, looking for something to clean his hand with. Vanellope handed him a dish towel and he immediately snatched it up and wiped any trace of egg from his hands.
"Yeah, good job, egg-boy," Vanellope said, taking the small bowl and mixing its contents together before pouring it into the larger bowl and doing the same thing until the ingredients made a thick cookie dough.
After tossing some flour onto the counter, Vanellope dumped the contents of the large bowl onto it. She then grabbed a long, cylinder like object that looked like it was made of wood and handed to the other racer.
Turbo grasped the handles on either end of the object and turned it over in his hands.
"There you go, Turbutt, roll that out," Vanellope instructed. "I'll go get a pan." Vanellope jumped off of her stool and skip-hopped across the kitchen, leaving Turbo to his new challenge.
Turbo hummed, looking from the object in his hands to the pile of cookie dough in front of him. Seems straight forward enough... he thought. He tentatively laid the wooden object on top of the pile of dough, his hands gripping either end. He twisted the handles as if they were those of a motorcycle and thrust forward, flattening half of the pile of dough. Success.
Just as he finished his task, Vanellope came over with a pan and laid the slab of metal onto the counter beside the flattened dough before hopping onto her stool. She was using the front of her shirt as a makeshift basket. Inside she had gathered a few cookie cutters. She dumped the contents of her "shirt basket" onto the counter, reaching out to arrange them so that they were all sitting the same way. The shapes she had picked out were of a heart, a star, a generic 'gingerbread man' figure, and a crouching bunny.
Hovering his hand beside his face and twitching his fingers in decision, Turbo's eyes darted to each cookie cutter before reaching out and plucking the one shaped like a bunny out of the pile and bringing it to his face. A small smile played on his lips. A rabbit was fast like him. He always admired the little creatures. They could out race a majority of other animals even though they were very small.
The smile on his face fell when he saw Vanellope out the corner of his eye and he brought the cookie cutter away from his face and quickly tossed it over his shoulder, cringing internally when he heard the metal clang when it hit something.
He gave a short, slightly demented, King Candy-esque laugh and said, "That was the dumbest cookie cutter I've ever had the misfortune to lay my lovely yellow eyes on." He then quickly skimmed over the other cookie cutters before picking up the star one and holding it out in front of him. "Now, this is a cookie cutter. A star, because I'm a star," he laughed at his own cleverness.
Vanellope rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say prissy-pants," she remarked before grabbing the heart-shaped cookie cutter and pressing it into the rolled dough. Turbo watched the child's movements for a moment before coping her actions. Vanellope watched Turbo out the corner of her hazel eyes and smiled to herself.
After they had cut out as many cookies as they could get from that batch of dough, Vanellope placed them carefully on the pan and slid the pan in the already pre-heated oven.
"And now, we wait," she said, dusting off her hands and walking past Turbo who then kneeled down and stared into the oven through the little window. He wrapped his hands around the long black bar above him and pressed his face to the glass.
Vanellope stopped cleaning up for a moment to glance behind her and smirk. Turbo, his back towards her, was crouched down in front of the oven, watching intently for any minute changes in the dough within. She suppressed a laugh, covering her mouth with her right hand. After dumping the bowl and spoon into the sink, she turned on one foot towards the impatient racer.
"Hey, Tur-butt, didn't anyone ever tell ya' watched dough never bakes," she remarked and walked up beside him. Turbo looked up at her and frowned.
"This is taking forever," he complained, letting an irritated breath. He stood up, still grasping the oven handle and looked at the dials. "Should I turn the heat up?" he asked and stretched out a grey hand towards the knob only to retract it when a stinging pain hit the back of his hand. Vanellope now stood on top of the counter, next to the stove, a disapproving look on her face. She withdrew her hand from its striking position.
"Ouch," the older racer whined in indignation and rubbed the pink spot on his hand where he'd been struck.
"Are you trying to mess everything up?" Vanellope asked. "You're gonna have to wait."
"Ugggh," Turbo groaned, banging his helmeted head against the counter top. Vanellope laughed and patted Turbo's helmet.
Originally I was going to have them ice the cookies as well..but this was getting kinda long and I like to have the chapters be about the same length.