Second Floor Common Room; Tuesday Evening [ 07/05 ].

[geewhizfellas.livejournal.com]

Butters was still pretty darn sure this wasn't a very good idea, but, as usual, Stan had convinced him otherwise, and so there they were, him, Stan, and Jim, in the common room with a brand sparkling new deep frying machine and about a dozen boxes of Twinkies.

Well, Butters was with the deep fryer and the Twinkies. Stan and Jim were over behind the couch, using it as a shield in case this goes horribly wrong and the Twinkies blew up everywhere. Butters was much less defended and was given the task of the actual deep frying.

Each Twinkie was held tentatively over the boiling, roiling oil before he dropped it in and then jumped back, arms up over his head with a little, "Ah!" A second would pass where he'd realize everything was okay, and take a peek at the snack cake floating inside. It was the same drill with each one, and so far, none had exploded or nothing else bad had happened and it should just be a few minutes before the first batch would be ready.

Boy, cooking sure was stressful!


[[ open common room is open, and Stan and Jim modded with permission! Come. Deep fried Twinkies for everyone! ]]

Comments

[answer2bheard.livejournal.com]

"You know," Jim noted, peering out from his safe place behind the couch, "I really wish he'd stop screaming like that?"

It was unnerving. If Butters was going to get blown up in a tragic deep-fried Twinkie incident, the least he could do would be to wait until he was actually dripping in hot grease and in serious agony, here.

"It's kind of freaking me out, here."

[andthemoralis.livejournal.com]

"If he gets burned, you're calling 9-1-1." Stan was the best friend ever.

[geewhizfellas.livejournal.com]

"Ah!"

There was one last little shout and jump and cower before Butters peered back into the fryer and look over at the couch and giving the other boys a thumbs up. "Looks like that's all we can fit in right now, fellas," he reported. "Now we just have to wait a few minutes and then we can see how they turn out."

[answer2bheard.livejournal.com]

"Sure thing, Stan." A beat. "What's 9-1-1?"

Hopeless. Jim was hopeless.

[answer2bheard.livejournal.com]

"A few minutes, huh? Seems kind of long for something that's already cooked."

Well, presumably cooked. What Jim knew about Twinkies pretty much amounted to 'they are sweet.'

"But you're the master chef here, Butters."

And also, Jim didn't want to be the one to brave the deep-fryer to pull them out.

[andthemoralis.livejournal.com]

"..." Stan stared at him for a moment before looking back at Butters. "I'll call instead."

[andthemoralis.livejournal.com]

"Doin' good, Butters!" Stan called from his spot. He sure as hell wasn't going to go get third degree burns and end up needing a transplanted face or something, thanks.

[answer2bheard.livejournal.com]

"That's probably a good plan." Jim offered Stan a sheepish smile, and then, after a moment, spoke again. "But, really. What's 9-1-1?"

Not local! Jim wasn't local!

[andthemoralis.livejournal.com]

It was as important as Facebook! Just as important!

"It's a number you call for doctors show up if you get hurt." A beat. "Or just are too stupid to live."

[geewhizfellas.livejournal.com]

"Well, maybe just a couple of minutes, then," Butters amended. "I don't know; I've never deep fried Twinkies before, but they gotta at least get a little crispy, right?"

[answer2bheard.livejournal.com]

"Oh..." Jim suspected momentarily that perhaps Stan might be hinting at something, there. "On the phone, right?"

He had one of those! He'd put a message on the machine! The one that answered things!

Or something like that!

[answer2bheard.livejournal.com]

"That is usually what you're supposed to look for when you fry things," Jim allowed, having at least a little bit of experience with helping his mother in the kitchen back at the Benbow. "Nobody wants a soggy Twinkie, right?"

[geewhizfellas.livejournal.com]

"Gee," Butters didn't sound so confident, looking at the fryer worriedly, "thanks, Stan. I sure hope so."

[andthemoralis.livejournal.com]

"It can't be any worse than the liposuction!"

[andthemoralis.livejournal.com]

"...you do have a phone, right?"

[answer2bheard.livejournal.com]

"In my room, sure," Jim confirmed. Oh, he knew that there was such a thing as a portable one, but really, who would he have phoned, anyhow? It wasn't like he could call his mom or anything. "Isn't that enough?"

[andthemoralis.livejournal.com]

Stan stared. "Dude, we're getting you a cell phone before people start ripping on you for being a freak."

[answer2bheard.livejournal.com]

And now, Jim was staring back.

"What would I even do with it?"

Look for a decent pay-as-you-go phone and then ignore the hell out of it.

[andthemoralis.livejournal.com]

"Call people? Text?" You could expect random texts, Jim. If that was the case.

[answer2bheard.livejournal.com]

"... Text?"

Nobody would probably blame Stan if he started to beat his forehead against a wall now.

[geewhizfellas.livejournal.com]

"I know I sure don't," said Butters, giggling a little before peeking toward the fryer again. "I imagine they gotta get all golden brown, just like fried chicken or french fries or something."

[answer2bheard.livejournal.com]

"French fries?"

Dear lord, somebody take this boy to a Mooby's.

"But golden brown does sound about right. I mean, since they're already kind of brownish going in, and all."

[geewhizfellas.livejournal.com]

Butters grimaced, and seemed to look a little green all of a sudden. He sent a surly frown toward the bubbling oil. "Yeah, well," he said quietly, "at least I don't gotta worry about breakin' out into vagina sores."

[andthemoralis.livejournal.com]

Stan hit his head on the couch instead. "A cell phone and boots. You really need them if you want to stick around here."

[andthemoralis.livejournal.com]

"That went away," Stan replied sulkily. "And I'm not a whiny vegetarian anymore."