Oh Sh*t, Whatâs Burning?
It was Cronusâ first baking club meeting, and he was already screwing it up. Of course, half the members were dudes and the other half were chicks heâd already struck out with so there wasnât much in the way of what he signed up for. Some small part of him just figured hey, what the hell, may as well bake something while heâs here. It could be fun. Boy, was he wrong. Whoever had let Cronus try to do anything involving an oven without supervision was going to be regretting it. It was assumed, of course, that people who had chosen to join a club specifically for baking would know what they were doing. That assumption was wrong. So, totally wrong. Cronus had absolutely no idea what he was doing, and if it werenât for the cookbooks littered about the room he probably wouldnât have even known the first thing to put into cookie dough. All things considered, the dough itself turned out alright. It was a little goopy, sure, and it could have used a few extra scoops of flour but it was certainly dough, and it would certainly produce cookies if baked correctly. Emphasis on the âifâ. Sure, heâd read the instructions, but how hard could it really be from this point on? He would come to regret that line of thinking within the next hour. Cookies in the oven, he simply stood near it, half-watching, mostly playing on his phone. The scent of fresh-baked cookies would hit his nose when they were done, he figured. Unfortunately, he was wrong again. So very wrong. If the scent of fresh-baked cookies ever wafted from the oven, Cronus completely missed it, because the first thing he smelled after putting the cookies in the oven was the odor of burnt ash. Nearly dropping his phone, he shoved it in his pocket hastily and turned to the oven. From what he could see, his cookies were charcoal-black and oh no what if they caught fire? In a panic, Cronus opened the oven, only to be greeted with a billow of smoke and the smell of burnt baked goods, stronger than ever. Waving his hands, he tried to clear some of the smoke, grabbing an oven mitt to retrieve his completely ruined tray of cookies.
