Pancakes

[hellshaped]

Who: Hellboy and YOU
What: Hellboy (on a loss) desires pancakes. He probably could use some help.
When: Lunchtime, prime pancake time
Where: Kitchen
Rating: the babyest rating possible, he is a baby
Note: Prose or actionspam, I'll follow your lead!

Hellboy had been enjoying his time back in the castle. The snow was fun, and he managed to avoid all the weird people so far, since mostly he'd been hanging out with Molotov or exploring the grounds.

But he was getting hungry.

So, if anyone were to step inside the kitchen, they might notice that every inch of it seems to be dusted in a fine powder of flour. There are also broken eggs scattered about, some chocolate chips on the floor, and an open container of milk just sitting on the counter.

The culprit is probably this little red person with horns and a tail, who has found a footstool and is standing over the stove with a skillet in his massive right hand. By the almost cartoonish way he is scratching his head, it should be pretty obvious he's trying to figure out how to turn on the burners.

Children and stoves are probably not a very good idea. And when the child in question is this messy, it's probably the worst idea ever.

Comments

[hellshaped]

[HE IS ABOUT TO GET OFFENDED because please Mabel, he's almost three, that is practically a grown-up -- but then that last bit piques his curiosity. He can't quite furrow his brow because of the way his facial musculature works, but he manages to look thoughtful all the same, curiously tilting his head to the side.]

Yeah? How am I supposed to do it?

[bezazzled]

Watch and learn, my tiny red friend who looks suspiciously familiar. I learned about this when my Grunkle Stan told me that if I wanted pancakes, I'd better learn how to make them myself.

[She clears her throat for dramatic effect]

Paradisa, I wish for one can of Batter Blaster, please.

[And when the item appears in her hand, she firmly places the can on the counter before them.]

[hellshaped]

[Hellboy is about to ask what the heck a 'grunkle' is, but then she wishes for ... something? Incidentally, he realizes that he could have just wished for pancakes to begin with. Oh well.

He just stares at the can ...]

What is that?

[bezazzled]

That is the answer to all your troubles. Ready-made pancake batter in an oh-so-convenient spray can! You just spray it onto the pan and let it cook. It's that easy.

[hellshaped]

[His little yellow eyes just go completely round and wide as he continues staring at the can. Is this manna from Heaven?]

Really ...?

[bezazzled]

[Canned manna from Heaven. Mabel makes a point to nudge it a little closer to him so he can reach it.]

Really.

[hellshaped]

[There are practically stars in his eyes.

He sets the skillet down on the stove and reaches for the can. There is a brief hesitation -- he has to steel himself against the thrill -- and then he experimentally sprays some into the frying pan.]

Oh my goodness.

[bezazzled]

[She can't help but feel a little proud of herself. She has given this young thing joy in a can. That, and he no longer has a reason to make it snow flour in the kitchen anymore.

She gestures for him to hand her the can.]

Lemme show you what else you can do.

[hellshaped]

[He just nods solemnly and hands it over. Teach him your ways, pancake-bringer.]

[bezazzled]

[Allow her a moment to roll up her sleeves with some bravado. She stands a bit on her tip toes, even though she doesn't really need to, but it also adds to the show.

She takes the can, and squirts the batter into the shape of a heart.]

Heart-shaped pancake! You can also write letters and stuff. Pretty much make them any shape you want.

[hellshaped]

[OH MY GOSHHHHHHHHH

Hellboy bounces excitedly, because that is the greatest pancake-related thing he's ever seen.]

Any shape? Let me try!

[bezazzled]

[She hands the can back over to him with a proud grin.]

Whoa there, tiger. Don't get so excited that you miss the pan entirely!

[hellshaped]

[He actually does just that. There is now pancake batter on the wall.]

Oh. Whoops.

[bezazzled]

[SIGH. Kids these days. She simply huffs and looks around for a dishrag.]

See, that's what you were not supposed to do. We're trying to limit the mess making! The last thing you want is people going around saying, "You know who made a mess in the kitchen?"

[It's at that point she stops and turns back toward him.]

Hey, who are you, anyway?

[hellshaped]

[He is a messy little kid, so sue him...!!!]

Pfft. Anybody could have made this mess. They'll never pin it on me, sister.

[He blinks at the question, then smiles in what should probably be a pretty familiarly weird-looking smile.] I'm Hellboy! What's your name?

[bezazzled]

[Yes, yes it is quite familiar. What is going on.]

[bezazzled]

Hellboy.

[She just... says it. This is not what a Hellboy looks like. A Hellboy most certainly is a million times taller than this and doesn't go around making messes in the kitchen. She is one million percent sure of this.]

[hellshaped]

[That's some fancy detective work there, Mabel.

Hellboy stares at her for a second. His face is too dumb to portray the confusion he is feeling so he just stares instead.]

Yes ...?

[bezazzled]

Is there more than one Hellboy? Because the one I know is like, this tall.

[She stretches her hand as high as she can. It's still not tall enough, so she gets on her tip toes.]

Well, taller than that, too.

[hellshaped]

[Squint...]

No ... I never met anybody else named that.

[bezazzled]

[There can't be TWO Hellboys, can there? Plus he looks more like a Hellbaby. Kind of like if HB was shrunk down to tiny friend status and shave off some decades.

And then she gets it.

Her eyes widen. She stands straighter. Her head lifts as if she's staring off into space, where the answer to this question has been hiding all long.]

OH MY GOSH, you're on a loss!

[hellshaped]

[Hellbaby gives her a very skeptical look. He is skeptical.]

I'm fine. I'm not a kitten or forgot who I was or anything. Maybe you're on a loss. [HUFF.]

[bezazzled]

[The skepticism knows no bounds!!]

Uh, no. You're most definitely on a loss. It's one of those age ones. Trust me, bro, you're usually a million times taller and a lot tidier. [She bites her lip] Actually, I don't know if you're any tidier, but I would hope cleanliness would come with age.

[hellshaped]

[PLEASE. Hellboy keeps looking at her with so much skepticism.]

You're crazy. I think I'd know if I was a million times taller.

[Then he takes the can of batter and just kind of

sprays it into his mouth. Still looking at her incredulously the whole time. YEAH. Take that.]

[bezazzled]

[HELLBABY NO, that's not how you eat it! Mabel cringes at that.]

Ugh, at least cook it first! It's not like it's cookie dough!

[She places a hand on her forehead.]

Okay, never mind. Nobody on a loss ever believes someone when they tell them they're on a loss.