Chapter 36: Breakfast
I woke up with my back to the wall and my wings splayed out. My neck was sore from sleeping upright all night.
"Ugh. Spyro, wake up," I grunted. He was sleeping on his back, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.
I got up with a groan, meaning to stretch, but my wings were kind of stuck to the wall. Clearly the paint had dried to them and came off the wall when I wrenched them free. The wall had been painted sky-blue, the twins' favourite colour. I figured looked like an idiot with a jet-black front and a sky-blue back. I walked over to Spyro, who was still sleeping on the floor.
"Spyro, wake up, buddy." He didn't, so I started shaking him. Seconds later he groaned and sat up.
"I'm up!" he mumbled. I laughed at that. Despite both of us having more power than we knew what to do with, we were both still goofballs.
"Time for breakfast," I said, turning my back on him. I could feel him staring.
"Cole, why are you blue?" the inevitable question.
"I fell asleep against the wall," I mumbled, a little embarrassed. The wall in question now had an unpainted patch in the shape of two wings and a head.
"Come on, Spyro, you're cooking," I told him, craning my head to look at the back of my wings, "I'm getting washed up."
"Ok," he headed to the kitchen without arguing. I wondered if he had ever cooked food before. Leaving him to do so, I took a shower and woke everyone else up.
When I went into the kitchen, I found it full of smoke so thick I couldn't even see my own hands. "What the hell? Spyro!"
"Cole," Spyro coughed, stumbling out of the smoke, "I think you should make breakfast."
"You think?" I muttered. Still, it was my fault. I'm the only one I know who knows how to cook, other than the moles. I probably shouldn't have asked him to.
I blew away the smoke, "Spyro, go entertain the twins. I'll make breakfast."
"Thank you." He left my kitchen, looking relieved to be out of it.
I grabbed a new slab of beef, slightly cooked it, then poured some honey on it and cooked it some more. I then added some spices before frying it. It was a good thirty pounds of meat.
"Come in, guys," I called, cutting it into eight pieces.
"Wow. Cole, that smells good," said the twins together, falling in sync again.
"Thanks." I had cooked so much that my…hell, they were my family. This just dawned on me after being closed off for so many years. It was a strange realisation.
Gust, Rumbler, Specter, and Flash marched in like soldiers.
I remember thinking, 'Huh?'
"Sir, is this grub for us?" Rumbler asked formally.
I saw Spyro crack a big grin, but decided to play along.
"Yes, troops," I said, fighting the grin that threatened to show, "Dig in."
"Thank you, sir!" they barked together, like true soldiers. The twins were rolling on the floor and we all started laughing.
"Spyro?"
"What did you think?" the purple dragon asked, clearly amused by my reaction.
"How did you get them to do that?" I asked him.
He only winked, "My secret."
"Oh, come on," I pressed.
"Wow, Cole, you haven't cooked in a long time!" Flash interrupted, practically diving into his food.
"I know," I turned to ask Spyro something, but had a blank moment. "Hey, Flash, that's mine!" I yelled instead. He had grabbed my piece.
"Oh, you wanted this?" Grinning mockingly, Flash swallowed the whole piece in one gulp. For a second he was silent and then he blanched.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He was choking, I realised. Panicked, I ran up to him.
"Guys, where do his ribs end?" I asked frantically. Spyro pointed to his general middle area. I put my arms around his stomach and pulled, hard. The piece of meat went flying from his throat. SPLAT – right on the wall.
"Dammit, Flash!" I growled, letting him go. He was pale.
"Sorry, Cole," was all he could say.
"Flash, are you ok?" I asked anxiously. Flash swallowed and took a deep breath.
"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," he said, letting it out.
"Well, I'm hungry and I'm not eating that. So I'm making more," I looked at Flash, "and I'm eating it."
"Cole, can we help?" the twins asked eagerly, their eyes bright,
"Yeah, and Spyro, I'm teaching you how to cook."
"But…" he started to protest, but I wouldn't take no for an answer.
"I'm teaching you how to cook!" I repeated firmly. Spyro heaved a resigned sigh and nodded. Soon after, their stomaches full, the others left.
"Spyro, how did you cook the first piece?" was the first thing I asked him. He had to have been doing something wrong. I had a small piece out for him to show me.
"Like this," Spyro opened his mouth and sent a hellfire over the piece of meat. It crumbled into little more than a pile of smoking ash. I sighed and got a new frozen piece out.
"Well, there's your problem. You have to cook it like this," I told him. I sent a barely visible flame over it, until the ice was gone.
"Now we can eat it?" The purple dragon asked, clueless.
"No, Spyro, it isn't cooked yet." I showed him how I had made it before, and ate it.
"Now it's your turn," I told him.
We spent most of the morning showing him how to cook. What a waste of meat. But he got it down. Eventually.