hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2002-07-02 04:41 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2002-07-02 04:41 pm
oh, that was just saaaaaaaaaaad - Drabble Alert
okay. that whole depressing chloe!fic thing was just bad for the system. it required immediate rectification in the form of clex that's just kinda past cute. bordering on sappy. ahhhhhhhh! maybe i'll finish it tomorrow
edited at 5:23pm the story just bitch slapped me. i don't believe it. i think clark and lex are going to *cook*. WTF?
The Terrible Conflagration Up at the Place
Where’s the smoke there’s fire, and where there’s Clark there’s Lex trying to fend off the grubby hands of would-be admirers. Lex doubts very highly, however, that his cook would approve of at least one part of that thought. His knowledge of this fact goes a long way to explain Mrs. Rosen’s night off, and it could certainly stretch to cover the fact that he just left a message for his assistant to order a new microwave in the morning.
There’s no reason microwave brownies should be that difficult to make. If you’re supposed to take the cover off before you nuke the little fuckers then they shouldn’t be covered at all.
Fuck freezer burn.
Fuck trying to cook for a boy who’s mother won three blue ribbons at the County Fair earlier this year.
Lex knew there was a reason he hired Mrs. Rosen in the first damn place. Lex also knew there was a reason he lost 10 pounds his first year at Princeton. Beer may put weight on the stomach, but if the stomach is living off delivery and ramen noodles, the beer doesn’t have a chance.
His dietary choices were just another reason for Lex to move off campus in his second year, and Lex thinks that Mrs. Rosen should at least be grateful that he doesn’t watch Iron Chef that often.
It’s not as though he tried to make something using octopus or sea cucumbers. Even Lex knows his limits in the kitchen, but how badly could he fuck up chicken?
According to the smoke alarm going off right now, pretty damn badly.
Stupid machine. Now he remembers why he doesn’t leave loaded firearms in his desk anymore. Between this and those randomized visits from his dad, there could be real trouble.
Correction: there’s going to be real trouble if that fucking disc doesn’t shut up, and why, oh why is his kitchen this big? Why does he need a floor plan to find the utensil drawer?
Okay, if there’s no mallet to throw at it, there’s always plan B.
Except that Lex really should’ve thrown a pot that didn’t already have something in it, and now he is *really* going leave early for that meeting in Center City.
If he’s within a ten-mile radius when Mrs. Rosen sees this, she’s going to poison his eggs Benedict.
“Was it something I said?”
Lex has never seen tomato sauce look that look on anybody, although it looks less appetizing splattered all over this week’s artichokes.
Of course Clark would suddenly appear when Lex was having a temper tantrum. Of course Lex would take three hours to cook a 45-minute meal and thus still be in the kitchen when Clark arrived.
Lex used to enjoy delivery days. Of course, Lex also used to be able to hear.
“I don’t suppose you actually want me to turn that off do you?”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to do a belly dance to its rhythmic vibrations if that’s what you mean.”
TBC...
edited at 5:23pm the story just bitch slapped me. i don't believe it. i think clark and lex are going to *cook*. WTF?
The Terrible Conflagration Up at the Place
Where’s the smoke there’s fire, and where there’s Clark there’s Lex trying to fend off the grubby hands of would-be admirers. Lex doubts very highly, however, that his cook would approve of at least one part of that thought. His knowledge of this fact goes a long way to explain Mrs. Rosen’s night off, and it could certainly stretch to cover the fact that he just left a message for his assistant to order a new microwave in the morning.
There’s no reason microwave brownies should be that difficult to make. If you’re supposed to take the cover off before you nuke the little fuckers then they shouldn’t be covered at all.
Fuck freezer burn.
Fuck trying to cook for a boy who’s mother won three blue ribbons at the County Fair earlier this year.
Lex knew there was a reason he hired Mrs. Rosen in the first damn place. Lex also knew there was a reason he lost 10 pounds his first year at Princeton. Beer may put weight on the stomach, but if the stomach is living off delivery and ramen noodles, the beer doesn’t have a chance.
His dietary choices were just another reason for Lex to move off campus in his second year, and Lex thinks that Mrs. Rosen should at least be grateful that he doesn’t watch Iron Chef that often.
It’s not as though he tried to make something using octopus or sea cucumbers. Even Lex knows his limits in the kitchen, but how badly could he fuck up chicken?
According to the smoke alarm going off right now, pretty damn badly.
Stupid machine. Now he remembers why he doesn’t leave loaded firearms in his desk anymore. Between this and those randomized visits from his dad, there could be real trouble.
Correction: there’s going to be real trouble if that fucking disc doesn’t shut up, and why, oh why is his kitchen this big? Why does he need a floor plan to find the utensil drawer?
Okay, if there’s no mallet to throw at it, there’s always plan B.
Except that Lex really should’ve thrown a pot that didn’t already have something in it, and now he is *really* going leave early for that meeting in Center City.
If he’s within a ten-mile radius when Mrs. Rosen sees this, she’s going to poison his eggs Benedict.
“Was it something I said?”
Lex has never seen tomato sauce look that look on anybody, although it looks less appetizing splattered all over this week’s artichokes.
Of course Clark would suddenly appear when Lex was having a temper tantrum. Of course Lex would take three hours to cook a 45-minute meal and thus still be in the kitchen when Clark arrived.
Lex used to enjoy delivery days. Of course, Lex also used to be able to hear.
“I don’t suppose you actually want me to turn that off do you?”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to do a belly dance to its rhythmic vibrations if that’s what you mean.”
TBC...
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Um...I do.
Oh dear, now I *do* have images of belly dancing Clark in my head. I'd say make them go away but I'm kinda enjoying it. Heh.
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stop laughing, damnit!
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dude, don't make me snort the free beer. i'm fucking poor. chickadee, you have minions crawling out your ass and you know it. if you don't, have you been paying attention lately?
there are many things you can do with brownies. i'd suggest making them magic but not sure that would work. i would, however, suggest that clark make many lewd, quite possibly but most likely not innocent, comments about the moist, fragrant, dark beauty of the brownie. and then he can go for the ice cream. and that's a WHOLE 'nuther arena of smutty greatness.
honbun, where are you at 7pm that you're still accessing the internet?
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okay, one, bad imagery. and two, huh? you must have be mistaken for someone else.
oh, but i am all about the moist chocolatey goodness . *veg*
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ok, perhaps i have used the word 'minion' too freely. but i am for damn sure you could toss a fic to any number of people and they'd be happy to beta you.
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yes, i'm still talking about the beta thing here. yeesh.
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You presented me with a virtual velvet cape to mark the occasion, remember? ;)
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If you could write smut, maybe you'd do a Clexy version of the spatula scene from Stripes. Heh heh.
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See, this really is GOOD, especially since Tempest with all the angsty fic. We NEED happy fic, and you give it to us. We LOVE you!
By we, I mean me, of course. I can't vouch for anyone else, but I"m starting a freakin' fan club. :-)
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You're making Lex *cook*???
Is there yet another level of evilness under these ones I know about, or is this it? 'Cause with the hilarity and the Lex-cooking evilness...
Hee. You maketh me merry. And Lex throws some damn fine tantrums, I must say.
Re: You're making Lex *cook*???