| Humor Flash Fiction posted May 13, 2010 | Chapters: |
...28 29 -30- 31... 
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It's all in the name......
A chapter in the book Flash Fiction
Meet Betty Crocker
by Begin Again
Flashed. Contest Winner
Oops! Something went wrong.
My name is Betty Crocker, but any similarities between myself and the cooking icon ends there. It was a family joke that I couldn't boil water. I didn't care. I was happy to leave the baking to someone else.
Last night, James, the latest dreamboat to rock my life, moaned about missing his mom's homemade cooking. I volunteered to make a cake from scratch, no box mixes for me. After all, I was competing with Mom.
After fumbling through my mother's old recipe book, I finally surrendered and called my sister.
"Sis, I need your help."
"With what?"
"Cooking."
A burst of laughter erupted. I bit my tongue; curbing any off-colored remarks.
"Come on, I'm serious."
She sighed. "Betty, you have trouble opening the refrigerator."
"Shut up! I'm not that bad."
After several minutes of torment, she agreed to help. The Doctor's Cake was our Mom's favorite recipe. No one ever knew it started with a boxed cake mix. My sister provided me with a list of ingredients and told me to call back when I was ready.
One hour later, I was eager to get started. A cake mix, a package of pudding, sour cream, oil and a carton of eggs were assembled on my counter. Measuring cups, bowls, spatulas, and the mixer were waiting to be used. I called my sister for final instructions.
"Is your oven set at 350 degrees?"
"Let me look." I checked the digital dial. "Yup, it says 350."
"Grease your cake pan. You do know how to do that, don't you?"
"Funny!" I sneered.
"In the mixing bowl, add the cake mix, four eggs, the pudding, one cup sour cream and ½ cup water. Blend it well and then pour it into your pan. Put it in the oven for twenty five minutes or until it's lightly browned."
"That's it? Any idiot can do that."
"Good luck." I heard her chuckle as she hung up the phone.
After double checking I'd followed the steps correctly, I put the cake into the oven, set the timer and waited.
Excited, I opened the oven. The same gooey mess was sitting in the pan. Something was wrong.
Fighting tears, I called my sister. She walked me through the steps again, making sure I hadn't incorrectly measured the wet ingredients. It was perfect.
"What did I do wrong?" I wailed.
She didn't say anything for a long time.
"Are you still there?" I was irritated. "You must have forgotten something."
"I can't imagine-" She stopped talking.
"What? What's wrong?" I pleaded.
"Betty, did you turn the oven on?" Her laughter exploded.
"You didn't say-" I slammed down the phone. Staring at the oven, I shook my head. "Oops!"
Oops! Something went wrong.
My name is Betty Crocker, but any similarities between myself and the cooking icon ends there. It was a family joke that I couldn't boil water. I didn't care. I was happy to leave the baking to someone else.
Last night, James, the latest dreamboat to rock my life, moaned about missing his mom's homemade cooking. I volunteered to make a cake from scratch, no box mixes for me. After all, I was competing with Mom.
After fumbling through my mother's old recipe book, I finally surrendered and called my sister.
"Sis, I need your help."
"With what?"
"Cooking."
A burst of laughter erupted. I bit my tongue; curbing any off-colored remarks.
"Come on, I'm serious."
She sighed. "Betty, you have trouble opening the refrigerator."
"Shut up! I'm not that bad."
After several minutes of torment, she agreed to help. The Doctor's Cake was our Mom's favorite recipe. No one ever knew it started with a boxed cake mix. My sister provided me with a list of ingredients and told me to call back when I was ready.
One hour later, I was eager to get started. A cake mix, a package of pudding, sour cream, oil and a carton of eggs were assembled on my counter. Measuring cups, bowls, spatulas, and the mixer were waiting to be used. I called my sister for final instructions.
"Is your oven set at 350 degrees?"
"Let me look." I checked the digital dial. "Yup, it says 350."
"Grease your cake pan. You do know how to do that, don't you?"
"Funny!" I sneered.
"In the mixing bowl, add the cake mix, four eggs, the pudding, one cup sour cream and ½ cup water. Blend it well and then pour it into your pan. Put it in the oven for twenty five minutes or until it's lightly browned."
"That's it? Any idiot can do that."
"Good luck." I heard her chuckle as she hung up the phone.
After double checking I'd followed the steps correctly, I put the cake into the oven, set the timer and waited.
Excited, I opened the oven. The same gooey mess was sitting in the pan. Something was wrong.
Fighting tears, I called my sister. She walked me through the steps again, making sure I hadn't incorrectly measured the wet ingredients. It was perfect.
"What did I do wrong?" I wailed.
She didn't say anything for a long time.
"Are you still there?" I was irritated. "You must have forgotten something."
"I can't imagine-" She stopped talking.
"What? What's wrong?" I pleaded.
"Betty, did you turn the oven on?" Her laughter exploded.
"You didn't say-" I slammed down the phone. Staring at the oven, I shook my head. "Oops!"
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Writing Prompt Please write a flash fiction story based on the prompt in the announcement. |
Flashed. Contest Winner |
 Recognized |
|
Word Count 455
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