Subject: Ficlet Response: Taming of the Strudel
Author:
Posted on: 2018-06-10 01:49:00 UTC
"So, how may I be of service?" Chef Matt leaned against the kitchen entrance. He wore a stained apron that seemed to hug his corpulent body a little too much, a bandana on his head, and his glasses had a few specks of flour on them. Strapped to his belt were a ladle, a spatula, and several spice bottles resting comfortably in small holsters.
Agent Jones was bouncing on the balls of her feet, gripping a small stack of photos so hard that there were already visible crumples on them. Her partner, Agent Grey, was standing in the back, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes, completely uninterested in the conversation.
"We need a cake," she stated, almost pressing the photos into the chef's hands. "A big one! Suitable for a wedding!"
Matt cocked an eyebrow as he looked over the photos. All of them showed wedding cakes of various shapes, sizes and colours. Some with overly excessive floral decorations, other with funny crown figurines of the bride and the groom. Some had the names on them, some didn't. Some were singular, some had many layers on them.
"And those are...?" Matt asked.
"References!" VJ beamed. "Lottie's getting married and I want to give her something to make this special day even sweeter!"
"You're just salty ya didn' get an invitation, ain't you, love?" asked William, breaking the seal on the new package. "Told ya, they must've their reasons."
VJ rolled her eyes and turned her head sharply. "I know that, Will! But if I can't be there, at least I can send them something, can't I? All I'm asking is that you magic the cake to them, when it's done!"
William shrugged, and VJ turned back to Matt. "So?"
"I don't need those." The chef dropped the photos into the nearest batch of Slop™. The paper started bubbling and quickly dissolved into a goop that matched the 'dish' in both colour and consistency.
"You want the Perfect Wedding Cake, you'll get the Perfect Wedding Cake. The softest, moistest, most refreshing, yet filling, cake your mind can think of." Matt clapped his hands, opening the kitchen door. Immediately, sounds of cooking, chopping, and gun shots could be heard. A cloud of something glittery escaped through the door.
The Chef turned his head to his customers. "Just give me a little over an hour. And no peeking."