Eliot wasn't entirely certain if the cooking classroom had always been in the community center, or if the building had just happened to grow one when he decided to teach a cooking class here this summer. He was reasonably certain he was in the same place he'd taken that psychics class, but he didn't remember it having a selection of full sized
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Yeah, he was starting to get the feeling that he could probably get away with cooking his own meals around here without accidentally killing himself, just as soon as he got himself something to cook his food in. That was reassuring.
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Which, actually, she could live with. It was just a weird feeling!
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On the other hand, she had two children with her. That could make things...distinctly interesting.
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Okay, good. A few more things to add to the list of food from around here that he could trust himself not to poison himself with. Brown eggs and white milk.
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Screwing up an omelet really only meant you accidentally made scrambled eggs.
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It was still a step up from having to talk to the bucketheads in the Trooper station about the possibility of safely storing the stuff, mind. That wasn't going to happen. Ever.
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Er, so to speak.
"Alots? I take it they're big and not afraid to heft their weight around?"
That's kind of what 'rampage' suggested, at least.
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And steam-in-the-bag veggies are a special sort of magic. They beat out canned sliced potatoes by... a lot. I say this with some authority.
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Thus is the joy of the community center class!
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