"...And once you're done applying the butter," Taylor read aloud from some instructions we printed out, "you need to prebake the dough for six minutes to make the crust. Do you want help with getting it into the oven?"

"No, I should be okay." Mister Snuggles had already pulled back inside me so he wouldn't get hurt by the heat of the oven. Once I finished brushing on the melted garlic butter mixture, I slid on the oven mitts, grabbed the cookie sheet I had the dough spread out on, opened the oven, slid the sheet in, closed the door, and set the timer for six minutes "Okay, what's next?"

"While the crust is baking, you need to wash and cut the mushrooms," Taylor read allowed.

A few days ago, I realized that since I wasn't bedridden all the time anymore that I could do a bunch of stuff for myself that I figured I'd never be able to do. So I decided to learn how to cook on my own. I looked up some beginner recipes and found a couple for homemade pizza.

And the grocery store had anchovy fillets on sale this week, which I took to be a sign.

I started washing the mushrooms. "What does it say about preparing the anchovies?" I asked while I got the knife.

Taylor made a sound kind of like a gagging cat. "All it says is to lightly rinse them to clean off the excess salt and oil."

I stopped halfway through cutting the first mushroom. "But the salt and oil is the yummy part."

"Ashley," Taylor deadpanned, "if you just wanted salt and oil you'd be putting bacon on the pizza."

"Not everything is a peanut butter cup, Taylor," I grumbled. A lot of people didn't seem to realize that two things that are good on their own, like bacon and pizza, aren't always good together.

I finished up with the mushrooms and even rinsed off the anchovies like they said to... recipe must have been written by a hack. Oh well, and then the timer dinged so I put the oven mitts back on and pulled out the crust.

"Okay, now what?" I asked.

"You wait a few minutes for the crust to cool," she said while checking, "then you apply the sauce. It recommends grating the cheese while waiting for the crust to cool off."

"Okay!" And then a thought occurred to me. "Do we have a cheese grater?"

"Under the sink," Taylor said. "Get the cheese out of the fridge, I'll get the grater and make sure it's clean."

I went and grabbed a brick of mozzarella and a can of pre-grated parmigiana. The recipe calls for freshly grated parm but we couldn't find it ungrated in our budget.

Taylor was taking a paper towel to a slightly wet grater. "You want to do this part by yourself, too?"

"Yeah," I said with a nod and took the grater. Shred. Shred. Shred the cheese. That's what the grater's for.

"And once you're done with that," Taylor went on, "the crust should be cool enough to apply the marinara sauce."

"Okay," I said and then sped up on the grating. Once I had enough cheese I grabbed a spoon and the jar of sauce and started on that.

"Now, the recipe says to spread on one spoonful at a time," Taylor said as she looked over the instructions again. "It says that at least three spoonfuls will work and that you shouldn't use more than five. You're looking for a thin but opaque coating of sauce, and remember to leave the edges unsauced. It says that it's better to use too little than too much."

"Got it," I said. I took a spoonful of sauce from the jar, dabbed it down in the middle of the pizza crust, and used the bottom of the spoon to spread it out. And then I did it a few more times. It took four and a half spoonfuls to get it right. "Is there anything special that needs to be done with the cheese and toppings?"

"Sprinkle on the mozzarella evenly till you've completely covered the sauce," Taylor read, "distribute the toppings evenly, press them down into the cheese and sauce, lightly sprinkle on another handful of mozzarella, then lightly dust the whole thing with the parm." She shrugged. "Seems simple enough."

I'd already started adding the cheese by the time she finished. 'Soon, soon' I thought to myself, 'I'll finally have a decent pizza with extra yummy salty slices of fishies to go with the supper nummy shroomies.'

As I was applying the mushrooms, it occurred to me that I might be an addict. Oh well. Lots of people thought anchovies were gross, so someone has to eat them. Might as well be me.

"And yet Ashley constantly questions this one's suggestion of consuming cerebral matter with the same logic employed by those who question your preference for the things designated anchovy."

"The differance, Mister Snuggles, is that anchovies didn't use to be the part of a person," I said out loud. "The brain is the human-computer. It's basically everything a person is, unless souls exist, and it'd be really weird to look at that and wonder what it tastes like. Besides, didn't you tell me that you don't need to eat brains because my body produces extras of all the chemicals you feed on. And that we can get the brain chemicals from chocolate if we have to."

Mister Snuggles didn't reply.

"If we're comparing brains to pizza toppings, brains are probably closer to pineapple than anchovies. Something that no sane person would put on a pizza. Stupid Hawaiian pizza isn't even Hawaiian, it was invented in Canada, the country with mutant concentration camps and where people keep eating each other and turning into monsters becuase they're eating each other, so forget about it."

I heard Taylor make a bunch of awkward gasps. "Ashley. I'm sorry, but the only way I'm ever letting you go home is if I go with you and bring all of the guns that exist."

"Can't kill wendigoes with guns," I said back while finishing up with the toppings. "Gotta like, stab them in the heart, cut their heads off, kill them with magic weapons, or damage them faster than they can regenerate with high level superhuman or magical attacks, and we're not strong enough. Or cure them with magic if you know how to. Also if they bite you without killing and eating you, you turn into a wendigo. Even if you're not in Canada. How long do I put the pizza back in the oven for?" I finished.

"Oh, um, eight to fifteen minutes." She seemed distracted by how fast I switched from wendigoes back to pizza. "You want the crust to be golden brown and the cheese to be a little bubbly."

I got the oven mitts back and slid the pizza into the oven, set the timer, and then I went over to the kitchen table and sat down, with Mister Snuggles reforming my normal outfit since we'd be away from the oven for a bit.

And now I waited.

"Seems like a lot of work just to get one specific kind of pizza," Taylor said after a minute.

"It's not just about probably my last chance to finally get a decent pizza," I said. "It's about uh... It's silly."

"No, go ahead."

"I've already told you how, on a good day, I might be able to stand o my own for maybe a few hours total?" I started. "I'm, I'm still getting used to the idea that I can just... Do things for myself. I want to learn how to cook becuase it's something I never figured I'd be able to do for myself."

"And that's perfectly understandable," Taylor admitted. "I have to think that if I were in your shoes, I'd be freaking out when I realized I could just go outside whenever I want."

My eyes went wide. "Oh my gosh, I just realized that I just can go outside whenever I want."

"...Do, do you want to start coming with me when I go jogging in the morning?"

I smiled. "I'd like that."

A little over ten minutes later, I was happily enjoying the first slice of proper pizza I'd had in over a year.

*AN* Something I was thinking about for the last couple of days.

The "human-computer" bit is a reference to Team Four Star's Pokemon: Leaf Green Nuzlocke.