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esmeiolantheThe prompt for this story was “Losing a bet” submitted by grilledfortune. This story fits into Chapter 38 of Already in Progress.
Rating: G
Dramatis Personae
Abbey Tsvirkunov, generally quite Nice and proud of her baking.
Descartes Tsvirkunov, her husband, not as Nice as all that if generally easygoing.
Setting
The dining room of the Tsvirkunov house. Descartes is sitting at the table.
Abbey places a plateful of warm chocolate chip cookies in front of Descartes and sits across from him, folding her arms. Descartes turns the plate, lifting it to eye level and turning it again. He takes a few cautious sniffs and then inhales deeply, eyes closed.
DESCARTES: Hmp.
Descartes picks up a still-warm cookie and takes a cautious bite, chewing slowly. After he swallows, he raises his eyebrows speculatively before slowly finishing the cookie.
DESCARTES: Hm.
Descartes eats three more cookies, frowning with concentration.
DESCARTES: Hmp. Do we have any milk?
Abbey goes to the kitchen, returning with a jug of milk and a glass. She thumps both down in front of Descartes and sits again, folding her arms. Descartes pours himself a glass of milk, selects a cookie, and dunks the cookie in the milk.
DESCARTES (chewing): Hmn.
Descartes continues to eat the cookies systematically, dunking some, breaking some into pieces and eating the pieces, eating some at the same time as he drinks milk, and alternating bites of others with sips or gulps of milk. Finally, he finished the last bite of the last cookie and wipes his mouth.
DESCARTES: Okay, you win. (reaches into his pocket and hands Abbey one simoleon) You do make the best chocolate chip cookies in the whole world. Thanks. (drops a kiss on Abbey’s forehead and saunters off, whistling)
Rating: G
Dramatis Personae
Abbey Tsvirkunov, generally quite Nice and proud of her baking.
Descartes Tsvirkunov, her husband, not as Nice as all that if generally easygoing.
Setting
The dining room of the Tsvirkunov house. Descartes is sitting at the table.
Abbey places a plateful of warm chocolate chip cookies in front of Descartes and sits across from him, folding her arms. Descartes turns the plate, lifting it to eye level and turning it again. He takes a few cautious sniffs and then inhales deeply, eyes closed.
DESCARTES: Hmp.
Descartes picks up a still-warm cookie and takes a cautious bite, chewing slowly. After he swallows, he raises his eyebrows speculatively before slowly finishing the cookie.
DESCARTES: Hm.
Descartes eats three more cookies, frowning with concentration.
DESCARTES: Hmp. Do we have any milk?
Abbey goes to the kitchen, returning with a jug of milk and a glass. She thumps both down in front of Descartes and sits again, folding her arms. Descartes pours himself a glass of milk, selects a cookie, and dunks the cookie in the milk.
DESCARTES (chewing): Hmn.
Descartes continues to eat the cookies systematically, dunking some, breaking some into pieces and eating the pieces, eating some at the same time as he drinks milk, and alternating bites of others with sips or gulps of milk. Finally, he finished the last bite of the last cookie and wipes his mouth.
DESCARTES: Okay, you win. (reaches into his pocket and hands Abbey one simoleon) You do make the best chocolate chip cookies in the whole world. Thanks. (drops a kiss on Abbey’s forehead and saunters off, whistling)
