fandomtownies | Jeff, God of Biscuits...Delivery Cart, Near The School Gates, Friday Afternoon

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Jeff, God of Biscuits...Delivery Cart, Near The School Gates, Friday Afternoon

Yes, Francine Peters stole a golf cart.

Yes, even though there was nobody left in J,GoB, she felt guilty about it.

Yes, she was Francine Peters and thus was fully under the impression that Professor Skywalker would probably send her to jail for it eventually, but there was a war on and THE PEOPLE NEEDED CHOCOLATE.

Which is why there was a golf cart full of chocolate-frosted chocolate chocolate fudge double chunk ripple chocolate cupcakes, doughnuts and yes, people with long memories for stupidity, brownies (sans oregano), located at the corner of Mallard and Chimera, for any of Fandom's brave fighters who need more artillery. Or had the munchies.

Yes, Natalie, there was definitely also coffee.

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When they ping in. (Anyone who wants to help hand out goodies is welcome to have joined Francie and Stark in their baking!)

Francine was actually kind of relishing the chance to deliberately turn brownies into a weapon, instead of accidentally drugging her friends with them.

Which wasn't stopping her from nibbling on one.

Katchoo might have a gun on her, but that didn't mean she couldn't try and swipe a brownie in a totally innocent way, right?

What? People were disappearing on the island now. She'd rather not get that far away from Francine if she could help it.

"You know those are supposed to be for fighting, right?" Look how hard Francine was trying to stop her, while she munched on her own.

"What was that, Francie? Couldn't hear you around the mouthful of weapon," Katchoo replied smoothly.

Look how hard she had to struggle against Francine's efforts to stop her.

"Well," Francine allowed, "We do need to wage war on hunger, too."

"And low morale?" Katchoo was onto you, Francine.

"Is this the part where you try to convince me to wear that sweater with the plunging neckline again?" Instead of, you know, the same thing she'd been wearing yesterday, now heavily dusted with flour.

"Who, me?" Katchoo could feign innocence quite well, thank you. She just wasn't trying to. "I said morale with an e, nothing about questionable morals."

Hers or anyone else's. Probably hers.

"Mm-hmm." Francine believed her, really. "Just don't eat all the weapons. Save some to throw if any of those jerks show up around here."

Katchoo eyed a tray of horrifying horseradish-frosted cupcakes -- probably Anders's contribution from yesterday -- pointedly. "Oh, don't worry. Those are definitely safe from me, Francie."

Hopefully from Francine, too. Yes, we're looking at you, Ms. Stick-of-Butter-and-a-Turkey-Leg.

Hey now. A concussion can make anybody crazy.

Let alone, you know. Those already disposed in that direction.

"Yea, I'm not sure what the point of those was. To burn up their heads from the inside, maybe?"

Katchoo leaned closer to sniff one of the cupcakes experimentally.

"More like their stomachs. Blech, those even smell vile."

"Well, I was thinking they wouldn't ever reach the stomach."

Natalie was sadly not in the mood for coffee today, though she appreciated the main narrative's thought. While the raincloud of the morning had dissipated, she had a harder look on her face than she'd had when she'd last come across Francine.

"Can I just get a bagful of everything?"

This was not what her messenger bag was generally for.

"Sure." Francine paused. "For eating or throwing? If it's for eating I won't give you the horseradish ones."

"For throwing," Natalie replied before Francine had really even had the chance to finish.

There was a hint of 'I will eat once we win' in there.

"Horseradish and ketchup it is." After talking to Stark about why he'd made the weird ones, Francine had come up with a few on the fly herself.

"I will need a supply of pastries," Arthur informed Francine upon arrival.

He had the pinched look of someone who tended to have other people say that kind of thing for him.

"And to be careful and not get killed or Francine will cry," she prompted him, starting to fill up a bag with cupcakes, but holding it out of his reach.

"I can't promise you anything," Arthur reminded her. "It is a fight we're talking about."

"Fine." No, it wasn't. "And to be careful and try not to get killed or Francine will cry," she amended.

"All right," Arthur said, because he recognised a losing battle if he saw one. "Have you handed out many cupcakes today?"

"Three or four dozen so far." Francine pointed to an empty rack. "The assistant manager at Chilly Boulder took two boxes; she said they're gonna mix 'em with ice cream and make deep-freeze bombs they can throw from the roof."

Arthur paused. "Well," he said, "That's certainly... creative."

The face he pulled said he thought otherwise.

"They'll fly harder if they're frozen, I guess," Francine said, shrugging. "Like snowballs."

"Still, isn't it the idea to get them to eat it?" Arthur wondered. "I don't know - that seems... difficult."

He preferred sticking pointy ends in things.

"Point," Francine allowed. "Maybe they've got really good aim?"

"It would have to be pretty good aim indeed," Arthur said, scoffing as only he could.

Francine shrugged. "There's a reason I bake things instead of throw them." Because she threw like a girl.

Stark had been awake until the wee hours of the morning baking cupcakes. It was entirely possible he'd then fallen asleep, briefly, with his head pillowed on empty flour sacks. He'd slept much worse places.

Now he was at the cart with an assortment of weaponized cupcakes (it's better not to ask what went in those and Stark would rather not discuss it) and some chocolate peanut butter ones. And yellow ones for good measure ~~and some totally moddable other flavors, if you must~~.

"I'll trade you a peanut butter brownie for a peanut butter cupcake," Francine offered. "I haven't tried those."

What? They couldn't go handing out possibly-faulty weapons.

Stark thought about that for a very short time before nodding. "Of course. You can have any of them." He waved a hand over his contributions then pointed at the frightening ones he had made with Anders yesterday. "Don't eat those though. You don't want those. Nobody wants those. "

Francine was a little scared of them herself. "I was going to ask why you made them, but I didn't want to seem rude if like... those are your national dish or something. "

It was all Anders's fault. Obviously.

"Weaponized cupcakes," Stark said. "It seemed better if they were, well, more weapon-like. I don't think I have a national dish. Or a national anything."

Francine looked up at... what there was of a sky. "I... don't guess any of us do, anymore." What with there being nothing like a nation left out there.

Stark looked upward ~~but did not see any wonders to share~~ and shivered.

"No," he said softly. "I don't think we do. Only this." This rapidly shrinking island refuge that had been home. "I miss the sky."

Chloe was surprised that she had come out and about in this. K-Mart would probably be proud of her if she knew.

"What do you t-think would work best on t-them?" She asked Francine.

"The ones with the most chocolate, I bet," said Francine. "We would've just made everything chocolate, but we got more ammo out of mixing in peanut butter and vanilla and stuff."

Why yes, they had thought about this a disturbing amount.

Chloe gave her a smile that was a little less shy. "Can I get a mix for weapons in case any of them get to the dorms?"

Then she tilted her head. "And a few chocolate ones for me to give myself courage?"

Francine grinned. "Absolutely." She packed the ones for Chloe into a separate bag, first. "These are yours. Don't mix them up with the throwy ones; some of those have really weird frosting."

Horseradish, Anders.

There might be some red velvet cupcakes in there too; no matter how trendy they are, they're still chocolate.

Support Services Alumni Auxiliary, whee!

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Jeff, God of Biscuits...Delivery Cart, Near The School Gates, Friday Afternoon

Talk to the Baker(s)

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no subject

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Mod Your Baked Goods Or Talk To Each Other

OOC