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Annalisse Does NOT Cook. [PG]


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[color=#404142][size=1]I'm a liar. I said that I would leave with the conclusion of [url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=45604][b]The Bikini Bandits[/b][/url]. However, I've got a week left, and was struck with an idea. I have to thank my momma for this one. She asked me if I knew where the salt-n-pepper steak spice was, and I replied "Annalisse [i]does not[/i] cook." This story is an actual real life event. It's been a while, but I will tell what I remember. The rest, I'll use my imagination.[/size][/color]


[b]"How do cheesecake brownies sound?"[/b] my mother asked, rummaging through our pantry.

[b]"Sounds good to me. We actually have brownies?"[/b] I looked over my shoulder.

[b]"Yeah, do you want to make them?"[/b] she set the box of brownie mix on the counter beside me.

The hot water ran over the sink of dishes that lay before me. I eyed this box carefully. The Pillsbury dough boy smiled at me; taunting me to attempt baking. I could swear he was meant to destroy me. In fact, his gesture of grabbing his belly and giggling that malicious giggle would be the death of me. There were times I had tried to bake cookies, or muffins even. But they were Sarah Lee or Betty Crocker, much more of a pleasant, homemaker feel. I never baked brownies, and I never liked Pillsbury.

I turned my attention back to scrubbing the dishes, determined to throw that dough boy into the oven once and for all. Uneasy moments passed as my eye kept trailing back to that blue box.

[b]"It's just brownies. How hard can they be?"[/b] I turned off the faucet, toweling my hands dry.

There he sat, staring up at me with a devious smirk. Shaking my head, and cursing myself, I read the directions. Quite simple directions really; all I had to do was add on egg, and a tablespoon of oil. I tore open the top flap of the box and dumped its contents onto the countertop. The main, white packet of brownie mix and a smaller foil packet of the cheesecake filling.

[b]"Hurry up, Annie,"[/b] Mother handed me a glass bowl and the egg.

[b]"You know I can't cook, Momma,"[/b] I blushed, walking to the other end of the kitchen to grab the oil and tablespoon.

My mother snickered and walked out of the kitchen. I turned back, staring at the foreign objects. Taking a deep breath, I marched confidently over to the counter and ripped open the white packet. To my dismay, light, brown powder puffed into my face. I stumbled backwards, dropping the mix into the bowl, and coughed and sneezed. The sweet powder settled in my nostrils, forcing my throat to itch as I breathed.

[b]"Son of a-"[/b] I coughed once more before fanning the cloud of powder away from the bowl.

[b]"Mix brownie powder with one egg,"[/b] I repeated the instructions and took the large egg into my hand, [b]"Then add one tablespoon of vegetable oil. Stir for five minutes, or until the batter is clump-free and smooth.."[/b]

I smacked the egg lightly on the edge of the bowl and tried to pull the shell in half. However, I failed to crack the egg enough. Giving it one more try, the egg split open not just into the bowl, but all over my hands and the counter. I growled and tossed the shell into the trash, and picked out any remaining fragments that float in the mixing bowl. Frustrated, I grabbed for an over-sized spoon and began to mix.

[b]"Pour contents into a non-stick, oven-safe pan. Take the cheesecake mix and pour ontop of the brownie mix. Use a knife to swirl and mix the cheesecake with the brownie mix. Place in oven at 375 degrees and leave in for thirty minutes, checking the middle of the brownies with a fork..."[/b]

The brownie mix plopped into the pan; it looked more like chocolate pudding than brownies. Nonetheless, I squeezed the cheesecake filling onto the brownie mix and swirled it around with the tip of a butter knife. And like a child would a mixing batter, I licked the knife to find the cheesecake mix not as sweet as the brownie mix.

[b]"You 'bout done in there?"[/b] Momma called out from the living room.

We were planning on watching a movie while the brownies baked. What exactly we were to watch, I wasn't sure. All I knew is that I wanted to get these damned brownies into the oven, and out of my hair.

[b]"Yeah, just got to throw them in,"[/b] I opened the preheated oven and slide the pan onto the middle rack.

Smiling in triumph, I closed the oven and washed my hands. Victory over the dough boy at last, and it felt good. The pan of brownie and cheesecake mix looked like a piece of art. So abstract and smooth, like marble. I cleaned up my mess of chocolate powder and egg matter, and bounded into the living room.

[b]"Took you long enough, geeze,"[/b] Momma teased after about five minutes into the movie.

[b]"Give me a break. It was easy,"[/b] I eased back into the plush couch, [b]"All I had to do was add an egg and a tablespoon o--crap!"[/b]

I leapt from the couch and slide across the linoleum floor into the kitchen. Frantically, I opened the oven and saw that the brownies had already begun to crust at the top. The baking process was underway.

[b]"Let me guess, you forgot the oil?"[/b]

[b]"I can't do anything about it, can I?"


"Great, I hope your teeth are strong. You'll be needing to gnaw."[/b]

~Dedicated to everyone who can't cook like me.
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ACK! There's nothing worse than to remember forgetting to put something in whatever you're baking >_< It happens even to those who are good at it ... I hope >>

When I didn't find that you'd written about putting the oil in, I first thought you'd forgot to include it in the story ... but then I got to the end ;___;

This really was a [I]sweet [/I]recount of brownies gone [B]bad [/B];p
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[SIZE=1]Heh heh, for me cooking happens to be one of life's great pleasures, mainly because half my family can't cook for love nor money. That said I'm painfully aware of how annoying it can be when you forget the smallest detail when you're working in the kitchen. Great little real story, as it could happen to anyone.[/SIZE]
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