Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: Cake Day

[froodle]

The silver foil platter buckled slightly as Marilyn lifted it from the sideboard. She held it tight at the edges, straining to keep it level as she carried it to it's seat of honour in the centre of the dining room table.

"Tada!" she said, setting it down with a one-handed flourish. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."

"Wow, Mom," said Marshall. "That looks awesome."

"Doesn't it?" said Marilyn, tilting her head to admire the life-sized replica football helmet currently occupying pride of place amidst the ruins of a celebratory feast. Royal blue frosting coated the smooth dome, a New York Giants logo painstakingly reconstructed from rolled sheet icing adorning each side. The face mask was of spun sugar, so finely wrought that Marilyn had decorated for the party on tiptoe, moving soft-footed around the huge pink cake box for fear that any loud noise might cause it to collapse like a deflating soufflé.

"Your friends did most of the work," Marilyn continued, rummaging in the silverware drawer for the only cake server that didn't have ectoplasm burns along the edges. "I think I put the Future Homemakers of America about six weeks behind on their curriculum, but the instructors were very nice about me stealing their best students."

"Wow," said Marshall again, turning the cake stand carefully to get a better look. He glanced along the long table to Janet and Tod, who wore matching expressions of pride mixed with embarrassment. "That's amazing. Really, guys, thank you."

Janet shrugged and grinned. Tod blushed. Marilyn passed Marshall the last good cake knife in the house.

"Don't cut it just yet," Marilyn said. "I want to get a picture of this. Let me just grab the camera."

She disappeared into the kitchen, emerging few moments later with a brand-new Polaroid around her neck.

"Okay," she said, walking around the long row of chairs to stand behind her son. "Are you ready? Edgar, are you recording?"

"Ready," Marshall confirmed. Behind the black viewfinder of a small handheld camcorder, Edgar Teller flashed his wife a thumbs-up.

"Okay, everyone," said Marilyn. "Count down from three. Three! Two! One!"

Marshall pressed the sharp tip of the knife into the top of the helmet and pressed down. The Polaroid flashed, and the red light on the small camcorder blinked steadily, recording the proceedings. Everyone cheered.

Marshall made a second long cut, the bright blue buttercream parting beneath the blade, releasing the sweet, sticky smell of vanilla. Janet and Tod peeled the plastic backing off their temporary Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fondant cake-decorating achievement badges, exchanged the secret handshake, and affixed them to the front of their icing-smeared t-shirts.

They looked at Dash.

"You earned one too, you know" said Tod, holding out the third badge. "You might not be an official member of the Homemakers, but you still deserve a badge."

Dash took it, shoving it deep into one of the many pockets of his long black coat.

"Thanks," was all he said.

Marshall had managed to get the broad, flat blade of the cake server under the first slice and was lifting it out onto the pile of Giants-branded paper plates at his elbow. He'd cut it too thin and too high, and as he lifted it it toppled onto it's side, splitting along three of it's four layers as it fell.

Edgar gasped, his free hand going to his mouth. Behind his glasses, his eyes were wide with horror and revulsion. Marilyn let out a small squeal of nervous laughter, swiftly quelled. Over her mother's shoulder, Syndi showed no such restraint, dissolving into shrieks of mirth. Simon grabbed the back of his little brother's collar in a death grip, hauling Harley away from the table and standing protectively in front of him. Even Melanie, who had been attempting something ill-advised with a packet of magical relighting candles and a glass of cobalt-blue fruit punch, moved back a few inches.

"What?" said Janet. "What is it?"

"It's.. green," said Marshall, his voice tight. "Green sponge with silver buttercream holding the layers together."

Tod and Janet glanced at each other. Tod looked confused. Janet looked angry.

"You!" she said, rounding on Dash. "You did this!"

"I don't get it," said Tod.

"It's the team colours for the Eagles," said Edgar. "Pretty much the worst-playing, evilest and most unhygienic team in the entire NFL."

"They're the Giants main rival," Syndi translated. Her eyes were wet with laughter and her shoulders shook uncontrollably.

Marilyn looked disappointed.

"Oh, you kids," she said. "How could you?"

"It's fine, Mom," said Marshall. He scraped the fallen cake segments onto his plate and began pushing them onto his plastic fork, devouring them in small, neat bites. "It's still delicious."

He looked around at his assembled family and friends, many of them still braced for an explosion they were sure was yet to come.

"Really, guys, it's okay. Janet and Tod worked really hard on this; let's not let it go to waste."

"Seriously?" said Syndi, throwing herself into a chair next to her brother. "Not even a little tantrum? Man, you're getting old."

"Well, that is the point of a birthday," said Marshall, cutting a new slice and passing it to her. "I'm just going to sit here, enjoy some delicious food with the people who mean the most to me, and then-" his head snapped up, his eyes fixing on Dash - "And then on Monday, I'm going to report you to Bert and Ernie for misuse of baking ability."

Tod went pale. Even Janet looked a little perturbed.

"Marshall," she started to say, but was interrupted by Dash.

"Oh yeah?" he said. "I don't even go to that school. What's the worst they can do to me?"

Tod was shaking.

"If they catch a talented baker using his powers for evil," he said, his voice weak. "They force you to cook something for every bake sale held within city limits for a whole year, and you're not allowed to eat a single thing you make. Not a cookie, not a crumb." His voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "They say they don't let you so much as lick the bowl out when you're done. They don't even leave you the back of a spoon. Not even if it's chocolate."

His listeners gasped in horror. Harley buried his face in Simon's chest, hugging him tightly. Melanie looked like she might cry.

Marshall cut himself another slice of cake.





Teller Family History

First Date by froodle, in which a young Edgar Teller shows off one of his earlier inventions

Popcorn by froodle. Friday night is always movie night in the Teller household.

The Teller Home for Displaced Youth by froodle, in which Edgar harbours some doubts about his new home town

Lawn by froodle, in which Marilyn Teller contemplaces some yardwork

Tornado Day, Revisited by froodle, in which Syndi learns exactly what it means to be Miss Tornado Day

Wildlife by froodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the beach

Culinary Delights by froodle, in which Syndi's terrible cooking may or may not have been an accident

Camping by froodle, in which Syndi cannot sleep

Artist in the Family by froodle, in which an immortal creature takes a liking to Syndi

Without Due Care and Attention by froodle, in which Syndi finally becomes mobile

Waiting In by froodle, in which there is an ice-storm and a handyman does not arrive

Brunch by froodle, in which Marilyn does not appreciate Edgar's help in the kitchen

Handmade by froodle, in which the Tellers receive a Christmas package from Marilyn's mother

Poor Life Choices by froodle, in which Syndi loves her brother anyway

Lillian by froodle, in which Marilyn's mother has concerns

Visitor by froodle, in which Marshall's grandma comes to stay

Nap by froodle, in which Marshall has a quiet moment in the Secret Spot

Fresh Sheets by froodle

Tradition by froodle, in which Dash and Marshall decorate a Christmas tree

Hometown by froodle, in which Mars and Syndi visit New Jersey





Janet

A Ghost in Pink by froodle; Janet's family during the year she was Lost

Jogging by froodle, in which Janet Donner adapts to life in regular Eerie

Plans by froodle, in which Janet Donner deals with Daylight Savings Time yet again

DST by froodle, in which there is a lighthouse

Figurehead by froodle, in which Lake Eerie's ghost pirates encounter the lighthouse

Comments

[deifire]

Bwahaha! This is hilarious! I could almost feel sorry for Dash. I love everybody here! And how all of the Tellers' cake servers but one have ectoplasm burns.

[froodle]

Cooking something and not getting to lick the bowl out afterwards is legit the sort of thing that would break me after a while. Even Dash might consider repenting of his wicked ways after a full year.

[evilinsanemonkey]

bert and ernie don't mess around

and neither does mars

love this!

[froodle]

They took that damn class for thirty years and damn it, the new students will take it seriously or repeat it as many times as they did!