Jesus stuck his head into the wooden mixing bowl, nose hovering just above the banana bread dough, and screamed. The dough and the wood muffled it slightly, but it was still audible enough that Flower perked up her head from where she’d been dozing on the couch and glanced towards the open kitchen curiously. When Jesus withdrew and finally put the bowl back on the counter, he glanced at the only other human being in the house with an expression of long-suffering.
“I’m never baking again. This is the worst,” he groaned, as if he didn’t already have two loaves in the oven and more prepped. “Please tell me your knitting is doing better than my bread.”
The green oven clock read 5pm, but Jesus was still in his pajamas- sweatpants- and he’d barely been awake for a few hours at this point. He was sorely tempted to take a smoke break.
@violentgallows
