Epistemic status: Speculation. An unholy union of evo psych, introspection, random stuff I happen to observe & hear about, and thinking. Done on a highly charged topic. Caveat emptor!
oh boy
archive: https://archive.is/uOP4y
Epistemic status: Speculation. An unholy union of evo psych, introspection, random stuff I happen to observe & hear about, and thinking. Done on a highly charged topic. Caveat emptor!
oh boy
archive: https://archive.is/uOP4y
As Rachel unlocked the door to Chez Mixte the next day, she felt something different. At first, she couldn’t figure out what. Everything that had appeared antiquated and unsophisticated now had a special glow. She had once looked at pastries like Blake’s orteils de gopher, which had been setting overnight, and thought them no better than animal crackers. Now, they seemed full of animal passion.
For the first time, she picked one up and bit into it. Flaky, and Blake’s cream tasted so good on her tongue. Sweet, but not too sweet. A thought popped into her head. Blake had started posting gym selfies five weeks ago. That was about when he had started looking for a flour sifting accessory. Had he been trying to… impress her?
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I do actually have a favorite flannel, but it’s more of a light jacket than a shirt — very useful for dressing in layers.
we have much to learn about your Pastryton ways
Thinking about Rachel made Blake as hard as a Rubik’s Cube. But Rubik’s Cubes are only hard if you don’t know the trick, and Blake knew the trick. He could solve a Rubik’s Cube in 5.9 seconds. It was not the only thing Blake could do in 5.9 seconds, Rachel noted approving.
Why has my life lead up to being perfectly prepared to write parody Less Wrong romance fiction instead of something… I don’t know … beneficial to humanity?
It made me laugh. Laughter is human, you’re doing good work.
Blake couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel. He wanted to make a life-sized replica of her out of Legos, then take it apart piece by piece and put it back together, making it better. Maybe making her fifteen feet tall and able to shoot lasers out of her eyes. But not hotter. Blake didn’t know how to make her any hotter.
Blake was so interested in Rachel cladistically. “If my priors are correct, there’s a 98.3% chance you want me,” Blake said suggestively. “That’s good enough for me.”
“Oh yes! I want you with all my gene pool!” she exclaimed. Blake’s priors were correct. Her bakery had finally found meaning.
Blake had never felt the way he felt about Rachel about anyone since that time he showed Kayla how to strafe in Purple Heart 2. He still remembered the feel of his big, manly hands gently touching her controller, pressing her buttons expertly. They strafed together all afternoon, gigglingly. He had a manly giggle. But that was before he learned how to really sift flour. It takes a tough man to make flour smooth as silk.
Rachel wanted to make pastries with Blake more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. She didn’t know if they would make a big handsome croissant or some cute little danishes, but at this point she didn’t care. Her gastronomical clock was ticking.
Just like how in Minecraft if you line two chests up next to each other you make a big chest, Rachel’s two breasts lined up perfectly to make a big chest. “She’s at the peak of evolutionary fitness!” Blake thought through his masculine flannel hat. It made him proud to be a mammal.
Blake couldn’t wait to rip Rachel’s bodice. He turned on his computer so that he could Google where the bodice would be located. He wanted to be prepared. It was good that the Internet had finally come to Pastryton.
Suddenly, inspiration hit Blake like a deer hits the grill of a mint condition Chevy on a foggy night. “Boda” was Spanish for wedding. “Bodice” was probably French for wedding-thing. You needed to know a lot of French to be an expert baker. But Blake didn’t have a whole lot of other opportunities to use his French in Pastryton. He hoped Rachel would like him using his French on her. All of his French. On her.