Day 31: A Sweet Treat
Chloe's Cosmic Confectionery Chaos (Peep the Horror)
As soon as it dinged, Chloe swung the oven door open. She threw on a pair of floral oven mitts and snatched the pan. Pivoting, she slammed the tray onto the counter, the muscles in her arms twitching. She breathed in deeply, sick to her stomach of the rich, saccharine scents flooding her apartment, but she had to persevere.
Before Chloe, there was an enormous freshly baked brownie. She hadn't cut it into squares, leaving it as a massive, pan-filling rectangle. Flinging off her mitts, she trembled as she levitated a knife out of the rack. She said a quiet prayer to the Greater Galactic Community, hoping for her troubles to end. Slowly, she carved off a strip that crumbled into her palm, and setting aside the knife, she squeezed her eyes shut, her heart pounding, hoping the aliens heard her cry for help.
Making the sign of the cross, Chloe crammed the brownie into her mouth.
But her tongue felt like shriveling and turning to ash. Disgust surged across her features. Her shoulders hitched, and her nostrils flared. She coughed, almost gagging at the heavily salty, bitter, and dry taste. She hurried to the trash and spat out the brown clump, wiping her mouth with a white-knuckled fist.
"Fuck," she hissed under her breath. "Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck."
At first, the assignment was simple: bring a baked good to the Motherlobe potluck. She considered herself a good cook with a slight weakness in baking. Bobby was the one who handled that culinary art, but she had taken on the task to improve her skills. She had gathered the needed ingredients with Raz, who had suggested which components she needed for the perfect dessert as he was also on potluck duty. He had even helped choose fresh bags of flour and sugar from the Motherlobe's kitchen, saying it was a way to smooth over what happened on their last mission together.
Her first try had been a yellow cake. It was simple, easy to make, and hardly a challenge. She had followed an online recipe, skimming over the housewife's suburban, whimsical recollections about her children and focusing solely on the instructions. But despite mixing and baking everything according to the directives, it came out as an affront to her taste buds. It tasted like sand, and she almost choked. Not even the store-bought buttercream chocolate frosting satisfied her.
She believed it had been a fluke. Perhaps the recipe was wrong. Thus, she tried again with a platter of sugar cookies only for them to taste the same. In the scientific world, a second sample coming out the same as the first was never a coincidence.
Embittered, Chloe dove into her baking just as she would do inventing, researching, and fighting. Her kitchen became a warzone of failed attempts. In her hours-long frenzy, globs of chocolate smeared the floor and walls. Piles of flour and sugar landed on the floor, becoming resting places for cracked eggshells. Several banana peels came together in the corner, victims of a banana bread gone wrong. The heat of the oven made her sweat, and donning one of Bobby's loose tops, she was stained with vanilla and strawberry icing from her previous attempt at a strawberry shortcake. And piled high on the counter were her mashed, inedible desserts; her entire world now revolved around baking perfection, and they were her mocking audience.
She was a woman possessed, surrounded by desserts, her kitchen burning as hot as her gaze.
She grabbed the pan, uncaring of the sizzling sensation against her palms, and flung it. The brownies crashed into what had been a shortcake. The layers tumbled out and landed in the sink, breaking apart, whipped cream trailing out like blood.
Her lip curled, a strangled laugh creeping out of her throat. "You," she snarled at the chocolate cake batter in a yellow mixing bowl set on the stovetop, "are not going to win. Do you understand? I've programmed rockets. I've invented things that would make science fiction authors weep tears of joy."
A bubble in the batter popped in response, and a glob of sugary chocolate landed on her chin.
Her eyes shot open. She was being openly tormented! Her mind raced a mile a second with potential solutions and insults. She glared at the cake, unaware of the locked front door clicking. Snatching the bowl, she brought the batter close to her face, uncaring that it sloshed out on her neck and collarbone. Its decadent, creamy aroma churned her stomach, but she continued seething, her sneer stretching into her cheeks.
The door creaked open. So lost in her rage, she hadn't heard their gasps.
"You are not going to beat me! I'm one of the most brilliant minds in the Psychonauts, in history! If I wanted to, I could invent something that would destroy all of cake kind! No one would be able to eat you! I'll make it so every single component melts! Or explodes! I'll mash your worthless atoms together to make something entirely new and better for society!"
She whipped her back, laughing all the way to the moon. She finally understood why villains had the urge to scream their cackling. Thrusting her arms out, the batter spilling out on her hands and shorts, she lost herself in the twisted, heavenly fragrance of baked goods.
But when she spotted two shadows on the floor, Chloe stopped dead in her tracks. Her laughter caught off with a sharp, punctuated squeak of "Ah!"
Bobby stared at her with eyes wider than dinner plates. Clinging to his back, Mirtala fearfully peered out over his shoulder, eyes also impossibly wide. Bobby held four plastic grocery bags containing what she had requested: several eggs, many sticks of butter, more chocolate than one would ever need, and much more. Mirtala slowly looked around, taking in the confectionery chaos that had taken place while Bobby gawked at their girlfriend.
Her face burning red, Chloe felt like someone slapped her. Her mouth hitched in a tight, frozen grin. She slowly lowered the bowl onto the stovetop. She jerked her thumb out and turned off the stove. Her only saving grace was that it hadn't started smoking, as most of her failed desserts started melting in the unsavory heat behind her.
"Hello," she feebly puffed out, equally stupefied. She tried clearing her throat, but the brownie still suffocated her as if its gooey, chocolate insides had slathered onto her vocal cords. Hitting her chest, she grimaced as the batter seeped into Bobby's shirt and onto her clammy skin. "Um, I, uh, this is…um, it's…"
Her stammering only made Bobby and Mirtala share a look. Their eyes still wide, Bobby quietly set the bags on the ground, and Mirtala slid off his back. They regarded Chloe as if she was a wild, agitated, dangerous animal ready to pounce.
"Chloe," Mirtala cooed, "when you asked us to get you a bunch of baking supplies, we…didn't realize we would be coming home to, um, this."
"You should, uh, get out of the kitchen," Bobby added, gesturing for her to come forward.
A rush of embarrassment pulsed through her. She swiftly realized how grand of a mess she created. What had once been a pristine, organized kitchen had transformed into a hellish travesty of baking. She inched toward them, her bare feet avoiding fallen utensils and clumps of shortening, chilly mortification killing the beads of sweat on her brow.
But she slipped on a stray cut of butter. Yelping, she lurched toward them, arms flailing uselessly. She twisted to the side, her knee racing toward the tiles, but Bobby snatched her shirt. Mirtala cupped her armpits and hoisted her up, pulling her into the hallway. As Bobby inspected his batter-coated hand, Mirtala grimaced and waved her fingers, flinging off the mixture.
Mirtala asked, "How long - how long have you been baking?"
Chloe weakly shrugged. "Since I…got home?"
"And when was that? Because Bobby and I have been out for a pretty long time. Y'know, sneaking into movies and later getting your really frantic telepathic messages for more butter, more eggs, and all that other stuff."
Chloe's blush worsened. "About, well, after Raz gave me the sugar and flour bags, it was, um, no, wait, it was…a few…no, several hours ago?" She quickly tacked on, "With most of the time being spent waiting for the oven to heat everything up!"
Mirtala sputtered, shaking her head. "It's practically midnight!"
She was unable to maintain eye contact, dipping her chin to her chest. "Y-yeah, yeah, that's…yeah, that's right."
She felt Bobby hobble past her, licking his palm. Itching through her scalp, adding flecks of batter to her hair, she heard Mirtala sigh. Mirtala crossed her arms under her chest, looking at her up and down. She mentioned that Chloe needed a bath, a fact that was clearly obvious. Chloe felt like someone could have easily baked her into a cookie with the amount of chocolate, frosting, and batter on her skin.
"Why didn't you ask us for help? Seriously, we were just movie-hopping," Mirtala wondered.
"I - I don't know. I was so invested in my work. It was like the world went away," Chloe admitted, rubbing her arm. She glanced up, ready to apologize only to hum.
Mirtala stared over her. She raised her finger, pointing at Bobby. Confused, Chloe looked over her shoulder and nearly screeched.
Bobby had tipped the mixing bowl to his mouth and sipped. He dipped his head back, gulping down the batter. Chloe felt her shoulders sag, hunching forward as Bobby continued drinking. He noticed them when Mirtala shouted to know what he was doing, and he raised his hand, finishing it off with a sigh. He lowered the bowl, showing hardly any mixture left, and eyeing his stomach, Chloe wondered how his digestive system was so strong when she had felt like dying every time. She assumed it had something to do with his childhood environment.
Wiping his mouth, Bobby finally said, "Tastes like chocolate seawater."
Mirtala threw her arms out, shouting, "We watched you guzzle down all of it for an answer like that? We already knew it was bad! Look around you! Chloe baked a bunch of garbage!" She winked at Chloe. "No offense."
Bobby tossed the bowl into the sink, saying, "'Cause I'm making sure of something. Just stand over there for a second."
Flustered, Mirtala barked out a sharp, crisp laugh. "Wh-what could you possibly need to know? How much slop you can eat? Should I put it all in a trough for you while I'm standing here?"
Bobby rolled his eyes and approached the leftover desserts. He sampled everything with single bites, a brownie slice, a crumbly shortcake, a whole sugar cookie, the crust of the banana bread, he tasted everything with a perfectly neutral expression. Chloe was surprised, considering his emotions freely shone on his face. She watched his eyes searching the room, Mirtala grumbling at his radio silence until he suddenly bent over to grab the bags of flour and sugar.
The stovetop was already a mess. It hardly mattered that when he sprinkled out a handful of both flour and sugar. He gestured for them to come closer, and they crowded around him. Mirtala continued glaring at him, muttering under her breath. Chloe waited as he brushed through the white particles, and she noticed countless shiny, translucent grains that had blended in perfectly.
"There's a shitload of salt mixed in," Bobby stated. "You weren't just baking with flour and sugar, so if Raz is the one who suggested these bags, I think he tricked you." He scratched his cheek. "Also, with how much you made, I think you just started doing your own thing and seeing what stuck because there's a lot of, uh, unique tastes in 'em. Most of them ain't - I mean, actually, yeah, most of them ain't what baked goods should taste like though."
As Bobby rambled, a sudden flash of red crossed her eyes. Something burst and burned behind her, Bobby and Mirtala, the latter yelping. Bobby flung to the sink before the flames could lick her back or set off the fire alarm. As the water cooled down what had once been the strawberry shortcake, Chloe narrowed her eyes.
"He did what?" she hissed, glowering at the bags.
Mirtala sucked in air through her teeth and cooed, "Sorry, Chlo-Chlo, I think my brother might've pranked you bad."
"You do anything to him lately?" Bobby asked.
"No! Of course not!" She paused, then squeezed her fists to her chest. "Oh, that vengeful bastard. If the Greater Galactic Community was present, I'd bring him in for a prompt execution against Cygnan kind. What he did today was a war crime!"
Bobby and Mirtala exchanged another look.
"Sooo, alien council aside, what happened?" Mirtala gently coaxed.
A chuckle rasped out of her. She leaned into the stove, tightly crossing her arms. "Well, on a recent mission together, I had a moment of…friendly fire. My PSI blast hit him square in the back, and it launched him into the enemy territory." She sighed and closed her eyes. "It resulted in a pretty humiliating beatdown." (Bobby snickered until Mirtala elbowed him.) "I apologized, but I should've realized that the glint in his eyes meant something else behind his goggles."
She should've known it was too early to be forgiven. It was a catastrophic mission, really. If Lili hadn't swooped in to save them, neither of them would've made it out alive. Such a careless mistake was likened to an intern's mishap. She had apologized, but she had also made a certain remark in passing.
"You know, I wouldn't have hit you if you were more careful, Raz."
And she supposed that line sent Raz to the sun and back with an objective of retaliation.
But Raz probably hadn't understood the depths of Chloe's devotion. When she wanted to create something, then she spent countless hours perfecting it. It had earned her a workaholic nickname in her department, and often, Bobby had to drag her out for a bite to eat. Even Gisu sometimes worried for her former intern, laughing when Chloe emerged, restless and animated, from the belly of her machines.
Still, Chloe sighed. She felt sticky and smelled far too decadently sweet. Bobby brushed the flour, sugar, and salt into the trash bag, commenting that her later desserts were slightly decent, but for Chloe, it was nowhere near what she wanted.
Bobby glanced at the leftover desserts. "I mean, c'mon, Chloe, I did like them. I could eat the rest of them." He said that as he popped another sugar cookie into his mouth, which Chloe assumed was his way of trying to cheer her up.
"Well, if he wants to polish off everything and satisfy his extreme sweet tooth, he can. It'll be easier for us to clean up the kitchen, but if he gets salmonella, it's his fault," Mirtala huffed.
Licking cookie crumbs off his lips, he smirked at Chloe and eyed the batter on her neck. "Well, I can polish you off, too, babe, if you're in the mood."
As Chloe let a grin rise to her face, Mirtala giggled and pushed Bobby aside. He collided with the sink, lurching forward. The faucet narrowly avoided colliding with his nose. While he groaned and rubbed his sore stomach, Mirtala leaned into Chloe, her pupils large and dark like black holes. She scrutinized Chloe, who tried leaning back only for the wall to prevent her escape.
Mirtala cocked her head, saying, "You know, Pooter pulled a prank on you, but…that reaction was really over the top. In fact, everything you did wasn't exactly normal, Chloe."
Bobby paused. He looked at Chloe, raising his eyebrows. Stumbling forward, hand on his belly, he added, "Yeah, that was fuckin' weird. What made you do all this? I haven't seen you this amped up in forever."
Her brain was still buzzing. Although she had calmed down, she still felt the jitters. Her eyes crossed to the various scrambled sweets still lying in wait, still mocking her. She pursed her lips, her tongue poking out to catch a stray dollop of tongue-shriveling brownie mix.
But as she pondered, she forced herself to come to terms with it. She had focused so intensely on working that everything else faded away. Morality, manners, comprehension, and cleanliness were secondary factors. So long as she had finished baking something delicious, a morsel that would've melted in her mouth, she was fine, but the question prompted her stark realization.
Rubbing her neck, she admitted, "I believe, uh, I believe I may have had a severe case of tunnel vision."
For a third time, Bobby and Mirtala exchanged a look.
"In that case, uh, have you had your bi-yearly mental world check-up?" Bobby asked, tapping his temple.
She glanced between them. Another flush of red scorched her cheeks. She dipped her gaze to the tiles, nervously replying, "I…may have pushed it aside."
And for the last time, Bobby and Mirtala exchanged a look before promptly narrowing their eyes on her.
She sighed. "Okay, I haven't had it at all this year. I've been really busy with everything lately, so I continued setting it for different dates, even though…the year is almost over."
Her annoyance subsiding, Mirtala clapped her hands with a charming smile. "Well, I have the solution to that!"
"This should be good," Bobby scoffed.
"Shut it, glutton." Sticking her tongue out at him, Mirtala flicked Chloe's forehead, who winced. She pivoted behind Chloe as she recovered, grabbing her shoulders and setting her chin on her head. "Why not let Bobby and I poke around in your brain? He's a Psychonaut, and I'm, like, five percent psychic, so I'd be a great sidekick."
Bobby brightened, reaching into his back pocket. "Ya know, for once, that's not a half-baked idea, Tala."
"Please don't say 'baked,'" Chloe hurriedly interjected, sick to her stomach of the concept.
Smirking, Bobby snatched another cookie, ate it, and waved his Psycho-Portal. Mirtala bounced on her heels behind Chloe, a bundle of energy just waiting to be released. They were waiting for her permission to be granted, and if they were anyone else, she would have had her reservations.
But it was them, two people who had loved her for many years. If she trusted anyone in the world with her secrets or vices, it was them. They kept her grounded to the planet she had once neglected. They had made Earth a fine place to live, even as she grew older and came to terms with her humanity.
She sighed, Mirtala's arms wreathing around her waist. "Well, since it's you two, of course. I'm sure you'll both take good care of me as always." She grinned, accepted the small door, and placed it on her forehead. As it opened, Bobby tugging Mirtala over to him and holding her hand to cement a psychic link with her, she chuckled, the corners of her lips rising mischievously. "Just remember, in space, no one can hear you scream…except me."
Mirtala's face fell. "Hey, I don't like what it implies."
"Too late, Tala, we're going," Bobby said, closing his eyes.
Chloe watched their astral projections leave their bodies. Mirtala's form wavered, but Bobby squeezed her hand, pulling her in. The door shut as soon as they entered. Chloe quickly removed the door, still smirking and conscious of the real world. While she normally would've joined them, she wanted to clean up her mess. Since they had already become well-acquainted with her mind, it wasn't like she needed to linger with them to witness whatever now lurked in the vastness of her mental galaxy.
Taking their hands, she guided their bodies to the couch. Mirtala swayed to the side, her eyes darting behind her closed ids. Bobby sat as he had when he was a child, his hands out in front of him as if holding an invisible steering wheel. She kissed their brows, smiled, and went off to clean the kitchen.
She made it five steps when Bobby screamed.
Chloe, what the fuck am I looking at?
Digging through the closet, she grabbed a mop and a bucket. What do you mean?
There are…things! All out there in the - the - the licorice black holes! Shapeshifting, tentacle things among cake galaxies! Cthulhu-looking octopuses in the blood red cotton candy cosmos!
You mean 'octopi.' That's the plural form, Mirtala chimed in.
Oh, yeah, smartass? Well, why don't you octo-buy us some fuckin' time while I pilot this spaceship!
And how am I supposed to do that, you chocolate-guzzling weirdo? You're supposed to be the commander here since all of those crewmates have gone missing!
I don't know! Put on an astronaut suit and do some acrobatics and distract them! Maybe tricks will make them stop waving those goddamn sugar cane tentacles at us!
Chloe hummed. It seemed her problems had extended to a level she hadn't thought possible. But it was Bobby and Mirtala. They could handle it as she filled the bucket with water from the faucet, adding a generous amount of liquid soap.
To interject, the correct plural form is octopuses. Additionally, I believe my tunnel vision, workaholic drive, and exhaustion have culminated together to become cosmic horrors beyond cognition. However, they have taken a baking modus operandi because of what happened just now in the kitchen due to my most recent stress, Chloe replied, setting the bucket on the ground and dipping the mop inside.
While Bobby groaned, Mirtala uttered a garbled cry. And this is all because you kept skipping your mandatory brain check, Chloe? How can you Psychonauts handle this stuff on a daily basis? It's like a twisted cake pop outer space dimension in here! With monsters!
As she began dragging the mop across the floor, Chloe gently thought, Bobby, you're familiar with the genre of cosmic horror. I'm sure you can handle them and guide Mirt to victory. Like I said, I trust you both to take good care of me. Bye!
Chlo-Chlo?
Babe?
At their whimpering, Chloe severed the telepathic connection. And when she started cleaning the kitchen, she slowly, but surely, felt better over the hours, her frenetic thoughts separating while she worked. Even if Bobby and Mirtala's bodies shuddered and drooled with whatever atrocities the celestial, candy commodities forced them to witness, Chloe was positive everything would (almost) work out in the end.