Welcome to PAD's mixing bowl.

Stephenie Meyer owns the whole Twilight Kitchen.

I just want to crack one of her eggs.

The Colossus of Cullen

Flump "Uh!"

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Piercing, pulsing, shrilly squeals awaken my sleep on a foggy, sniff, smoggy, sniff, no, smoky(?), January morning. "What the hell?"

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

I throw off my covers and race down the hallway. Just as my mind catches up with my body, I survey the kitchen, at least what I think is the kitchen.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

A gray, acrid cloud blankets the once familiar space, while a pan, set on high, still burns something—It looks like an omelet...with bananas and walnuts? I shake my head. If I didn't know better, I'd think that that combination was the result of Edward still being high from the night before. My brain is operating in slow motion, absorbing all of the details. A flat of eggs—two and one half dozen—minus what's in the pan and their shells are strewn across the tiles. Whatever is in the toaster appears to have caught fire. A plate of charred animal remains, looking like what once resembled bacon, is sitting on a plate. Edward's curled-up form, along with the runny mess, is on the floor. Both of his hands are clamped onto his jewels. The stepladder perpetrator is lying next to him. I've seen enough.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

I spring into action, right the stool, climb the steps, kill the smoke detector, open the window, turn off the burner, turn on the exhaust fan, cover the frying pan, tread over whites and yolks, go into the freezer, and toss out a bag of frozen peas...at Edward.

"Thanks."

He gives me a painful please-don't-be-too-pissed-at-me smile while I stare in disbelief.

"I wanted to do something nice and make you breakfast."

Wait. What? Edward cooked? Edward cooked. Edward doesn't cook. Edward doesn't know how to cook. I just glare at him with my are-you-fucking-kidding-me? sneer while I hyperventilate and try to shake the adrenaline coursing through me. I make my way to the front door and leave it open to evacuate some more of the billowing contents. Icing rain pelts at my flaming temper. I keep thinking about all of the things that will need to be done to get rid of the smell: washing curtains and clothes, shampooing rugs and upholstery, degreasing counters and cabinets, and painting walls and ceilings, as if I don't have enough to do. I start throwing stones from our gravel driveway into next door's vacant lot to dispel my excess frustration. After I've thrown everything I care to get my hands on, short of Edward, I breathe a few deep breaths and go back inside.

As I make my way back through our apartment, I see that Edward has now recovered enough to have successfully paper-toweled the entire kitchen floor. He's literally boxed himself into the corner of the cabinets and now looks at me with that oh-shit-I-really-didn't-think-this-through-very-we ll-before-I-started grimace. He's actually staring at the sea of printed white paper as if he's surrounded by sharks.

"Don't look at me like that, Edward. You know I'll either give in and help or take up my mop and beat you with it. As much as I'd love to do the latter right now, I'm going to be late for my exam if I don't get going."

I hurriedly wash up, throw on clothes, brush my teeth, and comb my hair. I have no time, so I'm going commando today—free buffing below while no make-up above. Not really caring about my appearance, I grab my book bag and begin heading out.

I look up just as I'm ready to leave and hear his whining cries. Edward's on his hands and knees scrambling eggs and Bounty around the floor. He's like the walking dead as he gets up stiffly and proceeds carefully to the trashcan to deposit the soiled remains. You'd think he was handling dirty diapers by the expression he's sporting on his puckered face. He looks hilariously ridiculous with out-stretched arms and chicken-walking legs trying to avoid the yellowed albumen "jizz" oozing from the scooped up contents while still attempting to balance the bag of probably-now-slushy vegetables still concealed in his crotch. I better not find that bag back in the freezer. It was bad enough that his parts were rubbing against me earlier. I don't need to be thinking about his pods while eating those peas. I know I should have left already, but this is better than live comedy. He looks up and notices my full-face grin.

"Here, catch!" He tosses me one of his protein bars he had out on the counter next to him that he normally keeps stashed in one of the cabinets.

"Thanks. Good luck with the kitchen. I, uh, should have been more understanding and appreciative of the effort that you put into to your, um, attempt to do this for me this morning."

He's putting on a good-humored expression even though I know he's crestfallen inside, and he knows I just can't refuse his begging for attention. He's like a yellow lab with sad green eyes; everyone's a sucker for him.

"Might I make a suggestion should you do this again?"

He nods for me to continue.

"Next time, start with cereal. If you want to learn how to cook, we can build up to it."

"Okay. Good luck with the test." He still sounds defeated.

I can't resist walking over to him after he keeps flashing his dejection. I rub my right hand over the side of his left cheek and feel him lean into my touch. I remove my hand then pull his T-shirt collar to me. I kiss his cheek and linger for a moment, deciding whether to carry out my next action. Ding, ding, ding. Devil Bella wins the decision.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ouch, Bella! What the fuck?"

Yep, he deserved it.

I grab his cheek and pinch it hard, shaking his head back and forth, then give him a slap for good measure.

"The fuck is that you will never, ever attempt to do something like that again until you've had proper instruction and practice. Do you read me?"

"Yes, mistress, like a book."

He expels it sarcastically.

Hmm, mistress. That has a nice ring to it.

"Okay, can I trust you to stay out of trouble until I return this afternoon? I don't have to work today after class."

"Yeah, I'll behave. I think I'm too freaked out about everything to try anything else."

"Good. On that note, I'm out of here."

"Wait, one more thing, um, do you think you can help me with the problem in my room today when you get back?"

"We'll see what we can do about that."

"Thanks. Later?"

"Later."

As I leave our place I realize that Rome wasn't built in a day...nor will the Colossus of Cullen.

A/N:

The Colossus of Rhodes was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. It was erected in Greece between 292 and 280 B.C. and stood over 30 meters.

Its depiction was of the Greek Titan Helios, the Sun God, whose handsome, chiseled form was often associated with a crowning, luminescent radiance and fiery horses.

The American Statue of Liberty was created with the Colossus' imagery in mind.

Just as Edward infuses some of his present coursework into his musings and ramblings, Bella continues doing the same.

Reviews are rays of light from Edward's crown. Beam me some.

If you love these two, please share them with others.

Special thanks goes out to Chayasara for exceptionally beta'ing my craziness.

Special thanks also goes to Monica Solis, a.k.a. CaliGirlMon on FFN, for making my banner.

Mwah!

Thank you for reading.

PAD