25 August 2016
I actually went around asking for the weirdest thing somebody's cooked in my class. No one provided anything particularly great, so you have the best idea they had.
Something lame.
Meow (Guest): Answered. I missed Meow too.
Review responses on each chapter should be short, but yep—it's typical Band-Aid action because it is the unmotivated period of time. The capsule js will make a return. I have not forsaken them.
As always—thanks for reviewing! :)
41: Baking
of pancakes with hot chocolate powder mixed inside.
Dedede hadn't been disturbed in days. Maybe months. Maybe years. Maybe he had been disturbed every day and just got accustomed to it. Life was tough, wasn't it? He'd never know.
Why would he call it boring? Well—all he was doing the past few days was sitting on his throne and keeping track of the villagers' activities and eating on his throne and getting his servants to clean up the monster of a mess he left behind.
What? That was what he normally did every day? That's a lie.
Hm? He was missing the company of something circular and pink? That's a lie.
Anyway, the most definite thing was that Dedede hadn't been disturbed in days. Huh? He was meant to be happy that his everyday schedule wasn't being thrown left and right and turned topsy-turvy and stepped on and crushed to pieces? That wasn't how it worked. Not in Castle Dedede. Clearly, you have no idea how it works in here. Fool.
No, Dedede wasn't happy when he found the pink puffball donning a chef hat and flinging around bottles of pancake mix and packets of hot chocolate powder. Not at all. You're delusional.
"What are you doing here?" Dedede demanded, trying to sound upset and annoyed but trying to sound happy and relieved at the same time so Kirby wouldn't want to leave immediately. (No, he didn't want to keep Kirby here. You're ridiculous.)
Kirby jumped off the table and landed into a mountain of flour. Where were all the chefs? ...Actually, never mind, that was a stupid question. They were probably all cowering from the savage ball of fluff.
"It's time for the popular variety show: Midnight Snacks with Kirby!"
"It's three in the afternoon."
"Dedede," Kirby said in a grave voice, casting the king a solemn look, "it's always midnight if you just believe."
"It's also never midnight if you believe," Dedede bit back.
Stare. Blink. Then a sagely nod. "I'm very glad to see you've understood all my lessons thus far. They are not in vain."
"What."
"Come. Let us cook hot chocolate powder pancak—whoa!"
Kirby slipped on the stray powder littered from the mountain of flour. He glared at it like it was offensive. Which it was. You should never make Kirby slip, or you're vulgar and offensive.
"You should really clear up when you cook, Dedede. It's only a good habit."
"Didn't you make that mess?"
Silence meant yes.
"Okay, so here, we turn on the stove and"—Kirby spun the dial around and a flame erupted from the stove"—then we pour the pancake mix… probably. Then we dump hot chocolate powder in, probably—"
Dedede dove forward and shoved Kirby aside. "Turn it down!"
"Turn it up!" Kirby whined, jumping up and dusting powder off his face with his stubby hands. Dedede rolled his eyes and spun the dial to a reasonable fire. A reasonable fire that was much, much, smaller than Kirby's. "It's insta-pancakes. The bigger the fire, the faster they cook."
"That's… no."
"Whatever. You're so lame."
Twisting the cap off the cartons, Kirby lifted one of them over the pan. "Three, two—"
"How big is one of them gonna be?" Dedede asked idly, sitting on a chair a few metres away from the crime scene.
"—one!"
And the whole jug went in.
Jumping out of his seat: "Wait, wait, stop, that's not how you—"
"Gigantic pancakes! Gigantic pancakes!" Kirby whooped excitedly, running backwards and snagging a packet of hot chocolate powder off the table. Ripping the seal cleanly off the top, the entire of its contents went spilling into the oversized and undercooked pancake.
"That's not how you—" Dedede struggled to say something, but found that he could do nothing. The batter couldn't actually be poured back into the jug. Instead, he went to retrieve a metal spatula, holding it by its wooden handle.
He dug at the tip of the cooked batter, but Kirby instantly screeched like a banshee. "Stop! Stop! What are you doing?"
"I'm flipping the damn pancake!"
"No! Oh my gosh! You don't flip it! You wait for it to burn and catch fire! Right?"
"That's not right at all—"
The pancakes were salvaged in the end.
"This was a great decision," Kirby decided, peeling his half-burnt white chef hat off his head. "We should do this more often."
Dedede poked at the pancake that was twice the size of his normal plate. They had employed the use of not one, but two plates to keep it from the table. It was still edible, because Dedede managed to flip it in the end.
"Aren't you going to eat it?" the penguin prompted, trying to sound sour but not at all sour inside.
"Yes," Kirby affirmed graciously, and tore the pancake apart with his nonexistent teeth.
The fluffy, cooked batter ripped into two and gave way for the still-clean-looking hot chocolate powder inside. Dedede let his eye twitch at the appearance of it.
"It's good, Dedede. It is very good. Maybe I shouldn't let the pancakes burn next time. Although they still taste nice if they're burnt and black."
"It's common sense."
Dedede would never, not even on the pain of death, admit that the pancakes did taste unusually good.