Black and White Drabbles [Tammo's Competition I, II And III] Extraveganza

[The Grey Coincidence]

My entry and the start of a drabble collection (technically one-shots but 'drabble' is a much cooler word in my humble (I am humble!) opinion.
I know I said it would be a chapter of Black and White- but then I wanted to write this and I figured it's hardly fair to make you (@Captain Tammo) read through that rather... Large... Story just to judge one entry when (hopefully) you'll get a lot more. Soooooo yeah.  It's still technically linked to Black and White but works fine on it's own. If we do more contests (pwetty pwease? *puppy-dog eyes*) I think I'll just put 'em here too.
Now without further adoooo...
Enjoy.

 You've Got One Shot

Four young creatures, barely more than dibbuns, had slunk away from fruit-picking to find themselves in the kitchen. Small and with generous layers of puppy fat they were a mouse, a squirrel, a hedgehog and a ferret.

"Let's bake dat one!" Momchillo pointed a paw at a Glorious Pink Strawberry Cheesecake. Fret felt his little ears twitch in annoyance. Of all his peers the young mouse was still the only one incapable of pronouncing the 'th' sound and thereby shedding his dibbun accent completely.

Before the ferret could give his own opinion on the chosen cake, Grollo, the Friar's son and a fat young hedgehog if ever there was one, spoke up.

"Actually you don't bake cheesecakes." His round face swelled with pride. Grollo was not the brightest of candles, but when it came to cooking... Well... Fret never wondered how he got so fat. "You see, for this recipe you mix the Silkcheese with the strawberries, and then you put it over the crushed oats and biscuits and you've got yourself a decent cake. Dad says that the hardest part of making cheesecake is actually thr decoratin-"

"Do I look like a pirate or a warrior?" Matiya, a squirrel who always seemed to be bursting with energy, emerged from behind a kitchen counter. Atop his head he wore a sieve and a pair of pans served as his breastplate. In one paw the young squirrel clutched a cooking spoon, and in the other his third wooden sword. "Because I think the helmets very piratical." He tapped the sieve with the wooden spoon. "But everything else." He indicated the breastplate. "Doesn't."

"I think you look stupid." Fret snapped and removed the sieve. "And you're forgetting nobeast knows we're here. I already told you, we're gonna make a cake for my momma, and then we'll leave and nobeast will be any the wiser. So keep your voice down and your ears up. You're supposed to be on guard duty."

"But I want to make the cake too! Rem'mber? I volunteered first."

Fret was sorely tempted to continue arguing, Matiya was a giant pain in the tail sometimes, but was interrupted by Momchillo's voice.

"Oooh! Dis one looks nice! Meadowcream and Almond Sponge!"

All four children stared at the Glorious Meadowcream, piled high over the heads of everybeast and stuffed with chopped almonds. Whipped into shape by-

"Yeah, my dad said we ran out of meadowcream." Grollo informed them. The quartet were brought back to face the miserable reality of their situation.

Today was Constance's Nameday- Fret had forgotten the exact number- and the young ferret had felt compelled to do something for her. He didn't have anything to give her (besides laundry but what kind of a gift was that!?) and so had resolved to make something for her. Of course he was no tinkerer and anything he built was made of rubbish anyways. He had already ruined one of her habits attempting to embroid it. Thankfully she had yet to notice. He had given up hope until Grollo suggested food- because of course the hedgehog could think of nothing else.

Momchillo had leapt upon the idea with unnecessary vigour, but had been useful in procuring the cookbook. Despite being the only beast present the Recorder trusted with literature of any kind, the browish-yellow mouse had still begged for nearly an hour before the Recorder relented the recipes.

Which lead the foursome to the kitchens. Matiya, bright red-furred and energetic like all squirrels, had been assigned to guarding the doorway and distracting anybeast that came into the kitchens. Grollo, Fret and Momchillo had the comparatively harder task of making a cake. Although, perhaps it was only hard because they had yet to pick one...

"Maybe den we can do..." Momchillo flipped through the pages of the book until he came upon another recipe. "Pumpkin crumble?"

Matiya pulled a face. "You know I hate pumpkin."

"But de cake's not for you." The mouse protested. Momchillo was a fan of pumpkin.

"I don't like pumpkin either." Fret felt obliged to say. The smell of cooking pumpkin was worse than that of a used bathtub. And Fret's black and white fur knew bathtubs better than anybeast.

"What about your moder? Does she like pumpkin?"

Fret paused to contemplate this. Then he growled, his ears flat against his head. "How am I supposed to know?"

Momchillo shrugged and turned the page. "Cherry cake?"

And so the suggestions came and went and each time the recipe was rejected. From Mighty Vanilla Sponges, to Mouth-Watering Pear Shortcrusts, Fret found a reason to not bake it. And when he had picked a recipe he wanted to try the others dismissed it for the most ridiculous of reasons.

"That's a wedding cake Fret."

And so Momchillo turned the last page and came upon the end of the book. "Dat'is it guys."

"So which one are we doing?" Matiya asked, emerging from a large cauldron, which he had imagined to be a ship.

"I was going to ask that." Grollo added from around a mouthful of candied hazels.

Momchillo opened and closed his mouth. "I don't know." He admitted.

"I do!" Fret snapped determinedly. Constance had raised him, and recipe or not he was going to make her a cake. Because he loved her. Hastily he squashed the soppiness away. It was really because he had to pay her to look after him! Yes, yes that was much less yucky than love. "We'll make our own cake. No recipe required."

Grollo raised a paw. "I don't shink dat's a goot idea" He swallowed his candied hazels. "Dad says we should always follow a recipe."

"Dad's not here!" Fret slammed the book shut with unnecessary force. "Besides, how hard can it really be? All we have to do is mix flour, water-"

"Strawberry fizz!" Momchillo cried, excited. "We can use it instead of water.

"Flour, stawberry fizz, greensap butter and everything sweet we can get out paws on!" Matiya cried and they all began naming their favourite sweets.

"Candied nuts!"

"Dried fruit!"

"Cherries!"

Fret rubbed his paws with glee and could not surpress a tiny cackle. "Let's begin then!" He tore a bowl off of Matiya's chest and slammed it onto the tabletop. Four stools were pushed against the cooking desk and all four stared at the empty bowl expectantly. "We'll start with flour." Fret decided.

"Dad says you should always start cooking by washing your paws and finding a clean apron." Grollo corrected, licking sugar off his paws.

Fret growled. "Fine."

All paws washed (with soap) and fresh aprons (several sizes too big) at the ready the four began searching for the flour but to no avail. There was none in the store cupboards, none in the cellars (but Matiya had brought up a small barrel of strawberry fizz) and none on any of the tabletops.

"Maybe we can use oats instead." Momchillo scratched the top of his head.

"But then it's a flapjack, not a cake!" Fret protested. "There has got to be flour somewhere here... AHA!" He pointed a claw at a cupboard high above them. "It's the only place we haven't checked yet!"

"We can't reach that." Grollo pointed out nervously. His father would not be pleased if they made a mess of his kitchens...

""Matiya can climb." Momchillo said, nodding his head vigorously. "He can reach de flour and bring it down."

The little squirrel's chest swelled with pride, and hastily removing his makeshift armour (with many a loud CLANG!) made to climb up to the cupboard. He scrambled onto the tabletop with ease, but found no way of getting further up. The wall gave no purchase, and try as he might he couldn't jump high enough to get to the handle.

"I can't do it." The squirrel shook his head mournfully.

But Momchillo, ever the clever, had already thought of a plan. "What if we stand on top of each oder and make a ladder for you?"

"How is that going to work?" Fret demanded grumpily. He was often grumpy and the inconvenient positioning of the flour was not helping his mood.

"If Grollo can hold you up, and you can hold me up, Matiya can climb on top of me and reach de flour."

Fret was about to suggest that perhaps it was safer if he stood on a stool instead of Grollo, but the hedgehog had already gotten into position, offering his spike-free (and sticky with sugar) paws as a lift. Fret clambered on and waited patiently as Momchillo pulled at his tail and nose and stepped on his snout and stomach in order to climb further up.

"Come on Matiya!" Grollo wheezed, as Momchillo assume his position precariously balanced on Fret's shoulders. The young hedgehog was beginning to sweat from the pressure. "I don't know how long I can hold this!"

"Don't worry, I'll be quick." Matiya answered with what he thought was a dashing grin but was in fact much goofier.

The squirrel clambered expertly over his friends. Grollo's stomach was practically a trampoline, Momchillo's tail, an excellent rope, Fret's snout, the greatest foothold, Momchillo's waiting paws, his goal. And when he at last reached them he could reach the cupboard with ease. Matiya threw the doors wide open and snatched at an excessively large bag of flour.

"I've got it guys!" He tugged diligently at it, determined to pull it down.

"Put your back into it!" Momchillo cheered.

"Guys!" Grollo yelled in serious panic. "G-uys I-I can't! My paws are-"

Matiya felt the ground (or rather Momchillo's paws) vanish away, leaving him dangling over the kitchen, his paws gripping at the flour bag which was slowly slipping...

Grollo had somehow fallen over, most likely due to exhaustion. Momchillo lost his grip (not that he'd had any to begin with) on Fret's shoulders and was catapulted into the kitchen sink, where he landed head-first into the soapy water and dirty dishes everybeast in the abbey loathed. As unenviable as that position was, Fret had landed on Grollo's back.

"Yowch!" The ferret hopped off promptly and bounced from footpaw to footpaw in pain. A quick glance at his backside confirmed that Grollo's needle-like quills were indeed sticking out of it. The habit he wore had offered no protection. He tore one out and winced, before his face became deformed with spiteful anger. "You have got to be the stupidest-"

"Aaaaaaah!" The flour bag and Matiya with it, came down upon the ferret like celestial justice (or rather divine humiliation). There was a cloud of white smoke and when it cleared Matiya, suddenly pale, was pulling a groggy and moaning Fret out of the mess.

"Dad... Is going to kill me..." Grollo, who's front had similarly been deformed by the sudden flour attack, was as pale as Matiya's suddenly-blanched fur.

Momchillo emerged from the sink, paused momentarily to pull a teaspoon out of his ear, and stepped back out. His habit clung tightly to him and his fur was covered with little bubbles. "Maybe... Dat wasn't such a good idea..."

"You think?" Matiya asked, grinning anyways. Not even his little buckteeth had been spared from the bombardment of crushed grains. The squirrel reached behind the still-dazed Fret and pulled the quills out in one swift, painless motion. The ferret practically sighed in relief.

"Dad is going to kill me..." Grollo repeated, eyeing the broken flour bag, Momchillo's wet footprints, Matiya and Fret who were both white as ghosts, and his own floured front.

Fret snarled, one paw still rubbing his wounded rump. "I am going to kill you! You had one job Grollo! Just one!"

"Relax Fret, it's just a little flour." Matiya bopped his nose for no good reason, as he was fond of doing .and retrieved the bowl from where they'd left it on the tabletop. "And we can still use this."

"You're right." The ferret said, turning away from Grollo and forcing himself to remain calm. For his momma! "Pass the fizz!"

Momchillo did as he was bid and balanced the small barrel over the bowl. The mouse tugged and pulled at the stopper, but try as he might he could not remove it. Matiya tried next and wrestled with it for a good few minutes, until he too, gave up.

"This one's invincible!" The squirrel declared. "I'll go find some more then."

"Nah, it's fine!" Fret grunted, his claws now stuck to the wood of the barrel lid. "Nearly... There... Just... A... Bit... Mo-aaaah!"

The stopper came loose with a miniature explosion of strawberry fizz! The bubbly, bright pink liquid got him full in the face, and instead of washing the flour off joined it and drew strange patterns of pink.

"You look like the Taggerung!" Momchillo giggled, pouring the fizz into the bowl of flour while Matiya hurriedly stirred the mixture.

Fret huffed and pried the stopper free of his claws. At least he'd got the barrel opened.

When the batter, a dull pink colour and smelling strongly of strawberry, was ready, the quartet (or rather Matiya, Fret and Momchillo for Grollo was too busy worrying about how disappointed his father might be about the state of Redwall's kitchens...) scoured the kitchens clean in their search for anything with sugar in it.

Less than a minute later they returned to the tabletops, their paws laden with all sorts of delightful things.

"I think we should rip the dried fruit a bit first. Dat way it cooks evenly."

Fret did not know how the mouse had come about this information, but he had read more cookbooks than Fret so the ferret did as was suggested. His claws were excellent tools for tearing at things.

"I think we should crush the candied nuts." Matiya suggested. "That way nobeast chokes on them."

This wisdom was infallible, and the children followed it to the letter. Their teeth were practically made for crushing the ingredients and before long they had crushed the nuts and spat it all into the mixture.

Grollo looked on, horrified. As the Friar's son he was the only beast present who knew that saliva was never a good ingredient. But his friends were busy pouring sugar and honey and syrup and condensed greensap into the mixture. Carefully the three covered a pan with butter (and an unhealthy amount of dripping soap-water and ferret fur) before pouring the mixture into it and popping it into the oven. High-paws were shared by everybeast.

"I need a wash." Matiya snickered, surveying the filthiness of his sticky paws (jamming them into a honey pot had not been one of his most well thought-out moves). "Imagine if Bella Badgermum saw us now."

"She'd eat me." Fret said, very seriously. The Badgermum and he had never gotten along and now covered in flour and strawberry fizz... He was a walking, talking cupcake!

The others laughed and soon the four descended into silence.

"Is it ready yet?" Matiya asked, of the cake.

"It's been a minute." Fret snapped, exasperated.

"Oh." Once more silence returned. "What about now?"

"That was less than a minute!" Fret snapped again.

"Sorry." Matiya raised his paws in a gesture of innocence. "I just don't know how long it takes for cakes to cook."

"It depends on the cake." Said Grollo, a little crossly. "And we didn't follow a recipe so we don't know. And if my dad shows up now he'll thrash the lot of us and throw us in a bath together. We ought to clean up."

"But we made the cake." Fret pointed out. "You can do the cleaning and then we all did something."

"But that's not fair!"

"Don't worry Grollo we'll help." Matiya got to his feetpaws and carried the empty bowl towards the sink. He brushed flour off his apron (and onto the floor) before hanging it back to where they had found it. Wringing his tail free of the crushed wheat the squirrel barely stiffled a yawn.

"Baking sure is tiring. I think I'll go take a nap." And so, leaving behind a trail of flourprints, the squirrel skipped out the kitchen.

"I dink I ought to get some dry clothes." Momchillo agreed, and followed the squirrel out the exit.

Fret was a little hurt to see them go so soon (just as they were beginning to have fun), but masked it well. "You can go too, if you want." He did not need to look to know that Grollo had already left. When he had come to them desiring assistance (his exact words had bee 'we only have one shot and we need to make a cake!') he'd been full of energy. But now his eyelids were beginning to droop from exhaustion.

Baking sure was tiring...

A high-pitched scream woke him up prematurely, and his eyes opened up slightly to see the Friar, a hedgehog fatter than even Grollo if that was possible, rushing to the oven, from which tremendous amounts of smoke were emerging. He threw open the door and rescued the (already black as night) cake. Batting away at the smoke, the head cook turned to find the culprit behind the irresponsible cooking and found Fret, blinking away.

For some reason he screamed again.

"What? What is it?" Fret shot dizzily to his feetpaws, stumbled and nearly fell. Why was there so much smoke? Oh... He'd forgotten the cake... His heart fell ever so slightly. All that hard work gone to waste...

The Friar stopped screaming and placed a paw on his chest. "Sweet cream, Fret! You scared me! Covered in flour like a ghost and-and this place covered in smoke and-" He caught sight of the mess and barely surpressed another scream. Paw prints everywhere, pots and pans and dishes everywhere, a broken bag of flour laying on the floor.

Fret, realising the danger he was in, made to slink away but was caught by the much larger hedgehog. Now held by the scruff he found no means of escape.

"Explain." The Friar growled, sounding rather like a volcano about to erupt.

Fret, who was terrified (would the Friar bake him? Or would boiling him be a better punishment? Weren't fetrets shaped like noodles?) and cowed into submission, spoke the truth. "I tried to make a cake. See it's my momma's birthday- an-and she always bakes me a cake so I thought I'd do the same and Matiya, Grollo and Momchillo were supposed to help but they left an-and- well..." The ferret trailed off, too scared to look the Friar in the eye. The truth had never served him well, it was unlikely to start now.

"I... See...":The hedgehog released him and turned to the charred remains of all of their work and effort. "So you need a cake?" Donning an apron in the blink of an eye and before the ferret could reply, the Friar got to work.

The vast majority of the children's work was ruined, all the candied nuts and fruit and fizz was nothing but blackened ash. Yet the Head Cook managed to carve out a small chunk of their original cake, one that- although very hot, was not burnt. Again, acting with speed both otherworldly and slightly frightening the hedgehog found a large vat of meadowcream (evidently there had been some) and spread it, layer after layer over the remains of Fret's cake. Almonds, apple slices, apricot, peach and syrup topped the dish, served beautifully on a platter.

It was a very good cake. Fret had to admit. But he would be lying if he said it was his. Not that he was a particularly honest beast... Just that it wasn't really his gift if somebeast else had made it.

"There. Give her that and many happy returns."

"Thank you." Fret turned away, the cake in paw, but found the Friar's paw around his scruff again.

"Ahem, you're not leaving me with all this mess. Help me clean up and then clean yourself up and then give her the cake."

"Oh." Fret's ears drooped. Just when it had seemed to be going so well...

"You're on dish duty for the rest of the week as well." The Friar added, bluntly, as he passed the young (and now miserable) ferret a broom. "You could have burnt the whole place down. You could have hurt yourself. All that smoke won't do your lungs any favours."

"Right." Fret said, glumly beginning to sweep away Matiya's pawprints.

"As for your friends." The Friar continued, pulling out a broom of his own. "You can tell them that they're on laundry duty and henceforth banned from the kitchens. Oh, and I'll have to inform Abbot Martin about this..."

Fret had to smile despite it all. Getting into trouble was never a good thing, but at least he wasn't alone. Besides, laundry was always harder to deal with than dishes. All the underwear...

And best of all he'd made a cake. Well the Friar had. But Constance didn't need to know that. Not that he'd lie to her. But he'd have given her a cake anyways.

[close]

[MathLuk]

Ta da!
Almost wrote something like that, but changed my mind to ending TCTBU.

I too hope for more contests! Keep up the good work!

[The Grey Coincidence]

I think you did say something like that... Wouldn't call it inspiration but I stole your idea MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA
But I did allude to this incident in Black and White soooo... Not exactly stealing. I know you didn't say I stole it but just to clarify.
And would Thordan really be *that* bad at cooking?

[MathLuk]

No. His pastry actually tastes quite good!
Almost the whole of Redwall suffered from stomachaches after eating it, but not bad for a first try!

[The Grey Coincidence]

Hehehe, the kitchen is the best place for everything. Fight scenes? Check. Comedy? Check. Romance? Well it does get rather hot...

[MathLuk]

How about horror? A possessed friar, perhaps?

[The Grey Coincidence]

Hiding from someone in a kitchen?  Hearing all the cupboards slowly open and the footsteps coming closer to you...
Come to think of it horror and Redwall could work really well together.

[MathLuk]

Still waiting for Redwall sci-fi...

[The Grey Coincidence]

There's a Redwall Star Wars crossover on Fanfiction XD
Written by a guy that goes by Lord Infinity if you're interested.

[MathLuk]

Oh! Yeah! Read the first chapter.
Still, doesn't work in kitchens, if you know what I mean.

[The Grey Coincidence]

Come to think of it you and infinity have very similar delusions of grandeur Writing styles

[MathLuk]

Haha!
You do have a point.

[The Grey Coincidence]

@The Skarzs does this answer your question?

[The Skarzs]

I checked the board as soon as I saw your reply.

It's good! A nice childhood adventure.
If there is one thing I see, personally, I feel like Fret talks like a creature that's more than a little older than "barely more than a dibbun," compared to his compatriots.

[The Grey Coincidence]

Well, you could say that this is from his point of view- so perhaps he's flattering himself XD

Although character ages-how they talk has always been a bit 'out' for me so to speak...