16: Fireman
Title: Fireman
Author: Sharmie
Rating: There's so much swearing in here, and also the word sexual-tension, so I think this must be 14A.
Summary: Ovens are sensitive, and fire is dangerous.
Notes: So much swearing. I'm sorry.
Leah was talking to the stove, trying to get some information for her Baking Science midterm she had the next day that she had forgotten to study for. Actually, she had forgotten to go to that class for almost an entire month, but she blamed Sharmie because she would always lure her away with a solitaire tournament or cheese.
“So, if I asked an oven reeeeeally nicely, it might just bake something for me?” she questioned, sitting cross legged in front of the stove.
“Yes,” buzzed the stove. “But you’d have to give it something in return.”
“Like what?” she asked, grinning at the appliance.
“Depends what you’re willing to give,” leered the appliance. Leah looked confused for a moment, but was distracted when the phone rang.
“Ack, please bake me a pumpkin pie and explain the process to me,” she blurted, before rushing to the other end of the room to answer the phone. It was Sharmie.
“Hi,” said Leah, tethered to the wall by the phone’s elastic cord. Sharmie had an emergency Toes assignment and would be at the studio for a while longer. Leah tried to quiz her on Toes but that soon proved fruitless, so instead they started talking about Julian Barratt, because they could.
On the other side of the kitchen, the stove was cooking for Leah. It was sweet. It put a lot of time and effort into baking the pie, and it was a beautiful pie. It also took it like no time to do. Leah actually was a little startled when she put down the phone and there was a hot pie sitting on the stove, cooling.
“That’s genius!” exclaimed Leah, testing out Noel’s familiar phrase. It tasted funny in her mouth, so she decided to use it less.
Just then, Noel bolted out of his room.
“I need your help!” he cried, his normally impeccable hair messy and dusty.
“Good god, what happened to you?” queried Leah, ignoring the stove’s requests for physical compensation.
“My closet,” groaned Noel. “It’s become an entity of its own. I’ve been fighting it for clothing the entire morning!”
Leah agreed that this was an important thing, and so she ran off into Noel’s room. The stove stared after her, its door ajar in despair. And then it started to heat up, until eventually Leah’s pie caught fire. Smoke quickly filled the room and began to seep into Noel’s room as well. The two roommates were in his closet, however, and didn’t notice until the room was thick with it.
“Did you leave the oven turned on?” asked Noel, coughing from his position on the floor.
“No,” said Leah, kneeling beside him. “I just asked it to bake me something... But then you asked me for help. So I guess it left itself on?”
“You cheeky little bitch!” cried Noel holding a sparkly scarf over his mouth and nose. “You did leave it turned on! It was all ready and waiting for your touch, a little knob action, a little timer play, and you spurned it!”
“I didn’t know that was part of the deal,” cried Leah, a bit disturbed that she was basically propositioned as a prostitute by their stove.
“Look what you’ve done!” said Noel, trying to crawl to his phone. “You’ve got it all mad now! It’s probably about to scorch itself!”
“AUGH HOUSE ON FIRE!” came a scream from somewhere upstairs. It was Paisley. She was woken from her nap by smoke filling her bedroom. Actually, the house wasn’t on fire, but the oven was a very dirty oven, very naughty, and it needed to be punished. I mean, cleaned. The smoke was from the cleansing fire going on inside the oven’s chest cavity.
“Help!” cried Paisley. Just then, Noel appeared wearing a fireman’s hat and nothing else. But it was a hallucination induced by too much smoke.
“The help is here, you shitty little fuckers!” bellowed a voice from the doorway. It was a sexy fireman. Actually, it was a guy in his late twenties who wasn’t all that sexy, but was still a fireman.
Noel and Leah were huddled inside his closet, which had taken pity on them. They put aside their differences and now it was keeping them from suffocating to death.
“Fuck smoke,” said the mysterious fireman. “Smoke has got nothing on Rich Fulcher!” he yelled, spraying his hose everywhere. And by everywhere I mean on the oven’s face. I mean, front. I mean, the fire.
And then Rich pulled a tiny dragon out of his pocket. It breathed out a little jet of flame, proportionate to its body. And then it took in a breath that was very not proportionate to its body, and sucked up all the smoke. And then it farted. Instead of disturbing smelly gas, it farted clean air.
“And the day is saved, thanks to Rich Fulcher and the tiny scaly man with flappers.”
“What?” asked Paisley, who had come downstairs as soon as the air was cleared.
“This little fucknut!” exclaimed Rich loudly. Paisley saw what he meant.
“Is it safe?” came the voice of Leah from inside Noel’s room.
“Yes,” said Paisley. They crawled back into the kitchen. The stove looked angry, and Leah looked away guiltily, and also a little creeped out.
“I think we’ll need a new stove,” said Noel awkwardly.
“Oh hot, there’s three of you.” The roommates assumed he was referring to them, because there was no one else in the room. “Two of us, two of them, eh?” Rich said, turning to Noel.
“What do you mean by that?” said Paisley.
“We should have a hot fucking orgy,” said Rich.
“Okay,” said Noel.
Just then, Sharmie walked in.
“What the shit happened to the stove!” she exclaimed.
“Nothing,” responded Leah shiftily. This killed the sexual tension, and so Rich decided he should go save another house from fire, maybe he would get some action there.
THE END.
Author: Sharmie
Rating: There's so much swearing in here, and also the word sexual-tension, so I think this must be 14A.
Summary: Ovens are sensitive, and fire is dangerous.
Notes: So much swearing. I'm sorry.
Leah was talking to the stove, trying to get some information for her Baking Science midterm she had the next day that she had forgotten to study for. Actually, she had forgotten to go to that class for almost an entire month, but she blamed Sharmie because she would always lure her away with a solitaire tournament or cheese.
“So, if I asked an oven reeeeeally nicely, it might just bake something for me?” she questioned, sitting cross legged in front of the stove.
“Yes,” buzzed the stove. “But you’d have to give it something in return.”
“Like what?” she asked, grinning at the appliance.
“Depends what you’re willing to give,” leered the appliance. Leah looked confused for a moment, but was distracted when the phone rang.
“Ack, please bake me a pumpkin pie and explain the process to me,” she blurted, before rushing to the other end of the room to answer the phone. It was Sharmie.
“Hi,” said Leah, tethered to the wall by the phone’s elastic cord. Sharmie had an emergency Toes assignment and would be at the studio for a while longer. Leah tried to quiz her on Toes but that soon proved fruitless, so instead they started talking about Julian Barratt, because they could.
On the other side of the kitchen, the stove was cooking for Leah. It was sweet. It put a lot of time and effort into baking the pie, and it was a beautiful pie. It also took it like no time to do. Leah actually was a little startled when she put down the phone and there was a hot pie sitting on the stove, cooling.
“That’s genius!” exclaimed Leah, testing out Noel’s familiar phrase. It tasted funny in her mouth, so she decided to use it less.
Just then, Noel bolted out of his room.
“I need your help!” he cried, his normally impeccable hair messy and dusty.
“Good god, what happened to you?” queried Leah, ignoring the stove’s requests for physical compensation.
“My closet,” groaned Noel. “It’s become an entity of its own. I’ve been fighting it for clothing the entire morning!”
Leah agreed that this was an important thing, and so she ran off into Noel’s room. The stove stared after her, its door ajar in despair. And then it started to heat up, until eventually Leah’s pie caught fire. Smoke quickly filled the room and began to seep into Noel’s room as well. The two roommates were in his closet, however, and didn’t notice until the room was thick with it.
“Did you leave the oven turned on?” asked Noel, coughing from his position on the floor.
“No,” said Leah, kneeling beside him. “I just asked it to bake me something... But then you asked me for help. So I guess it left itself on?”
“You cheeky little bitch!” cried Noel holding a sparkly scarf over his mouth and nose. “You did leave it turned on! It was all ready and waiting for your touch, a little knob action, a little timer play, and you spurned it!”
“I didn’t know that was part of the deal,” cried Leah, a bit disturbed that she was basically propositioned as a prostitute by their stove.
“Look what you’ve done!” said Noel, trying to crawl to his phone. “You’ve got it all mad now! It’s probably about to scorch itself!”
“AUGH HOUSE ON FIRE!” came a scream from somewhere upstairs. It was Paisley. She was woken from her nap by smoke filling her bedroom. Actually, the house wasn’t on fire, but the oven was a very dirty oven, very naughty, and it needed to be punished. I mean, cleaned. The smoke was from the cleansing fire going on inside the oven’s chest cavity.
“Help!” cried Paisley. Just then, Noel appeared wearing a fireman’s hat and nothing else. But it was a hallucination induced by too much smoke.
“The help is here, you shitty little fuckers!” bellowed a voice from the doorway. It was a sexy fireman. Actually, it was a guy in his late twenties who wasn’t all that sexy, but was still a fireman.
Noel and Leah were huddled inside his closet, which had taken pity on them. They put aside their differences and now it was keeping them from suffocating to death.
“Fuck smoke,” said the mysterious fireman. “Smoke has got nothing on Rich Fulcher!” he yelled, spraying his hose everywhere. And by everywhere I mean on the oven’s face. I mean, front. I mean, the fire.
And then Rich pulled a tiny dragon out of his pocket. It breathed out a little jet of flame, proportionate to its body. And then it took in a breath that was very not proportionate to its body, and sucked up all the smoke. And then it farted. Instead of disturbing smelly gas, it farted clean air.
“And the day is saved, thanks to Rich Fulcher and the tiny scaly man with flappers.”
“What?” asked Paisley, who had come downstairs as soon as the air was cleared.
“This little fucknut!” exclaimed Rich loudly. Paisley saw what he meant.
“Is it safe?” came the voice of Leah from inside Noel’s room.
“Yes,” said Paisley. They crawled back into the kitchen. The stove looked angry, and Leah looked away guiltily, and also a little creeped out.
“I think we’ll need a new stove,” said Noel awkwardly.
“Oh hot, there’s three of you.” The roommates assumed he was referring to them, because there was no one else in the room. “Two of us, two of them, eh?” Rich said, turning to Noel.
“What do you mean by that?” said Paisley.
“We should have a hot fucking orgy,” said Rich.
“Okay,” said Noel.
Just then, Sharmie walked in.
“What the shit happened to the stove!” she exclaimed.
“Nothing,” responded Leah shiftily. This killed the sexual tension, and so Rich decided he should go save another house from fire, maybe he would get some action there.
THE END.