2014-04-05

“Hilda!” came a voice for the hallway.

            “Almost ready Euric!” Hilda yelled back in reply.

            She had been preparing for the demonstration for weeks, and tonight it would finally bear fruit.

            Hilda was determined to knock those stuffy old sods in the historic society right off the pampered posteriors.

            The presentation she had arranged for tonight’s event was three-fold.

            First there was a dramatic reading of her historically inspired poetry. She had done her research not only on the local history, but Hilda had also scouted out what sort of preferences these old goats had.

            Adjusting the corset of her traditional attire, she was certain she would blow them away on al levels.

            “You are going to be cutting it close!” yelled Euric again.

            “Fashionably late!” came a sardonic reply.

            Hilda looked at herself again in the mirror, triple checking that everything was in place. For her second element, she planned on giving an account of the historical significance of various practices which were still upheld today. And for her coup de grâce, she planned to segue that into baked samples based off of her own Grandmother’s recipes.

            Nothing could go wrong.

            “Hey Hilda—” Euric started.

            “Almost I said!” Hilda interjected. “Unless Thor himself is in the kitchen, I don’t really care! Unless it’s a catastrophe, don’t bother me until I come down!”

            “Well I didn’t find any thunder gods,” said Euric from just outside the bathroom.

            “Then what—” Hilda started then froze.

            In Euric’s hands was a baking dish full of a raw ooze.

            “Does finding out that the breaker for the oven tripped count as a catastrophe?”