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St. Edwards Bake Sale; Cupcakes, Pie, and all that good stuff.
Topic Started: Aug 7 2012, 01:40 AM (2,784 Views)
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((Rutherford "R.J." Roger Jr. continued from School food ain't so bad when it's free))

It wasn't the first bake sale R.J. was a part of, and it was unlikely it would be the last. Laying across his lap were chocolate cupcakes covered in plastic and frosting, with little toothpicks sticking inside so frosting wouldn't get smeared. He was riding in his mother's car, while his sister's were riding in their cars with their kids and husbands. His brother, studying in another country, wasn't going to be at the bake sale today. It was only a little thing put together about a few weeks ago, but the whole bake sale thing felt routine, but in a nice sort of way. Volunteers and regulars to the church would help out by donating their time to make sure every drop and crumb was sold, and anything that wasn't sold was donated to the local soup kitchen.

R.J. wasn't really a baking kind of guy, his skills majoring with ramen and cereal, so he found another way to help out. He drew a flyer, a piece of art he was actually proud of, and printed some copies that he gave to the helpers, which would be posted in various public places. Commissaries, malls, libraries, record stores, wherever people were and wherever they got permission. Ruth hoped he had made enough to get the word around, but there were usually a lot of people at these things. Especially since it was at a fair.

They had finally made their way to the fair, with R.J.'s nephews and nieces running around with their parents trying to watch them, and his own mother talking to some of the other older ladies from the church. The table for the church was rather large, or maybe it just seemed that way because Father Morales was the only one manning the station. R.J. was about to start a conversation with the Priest, when a ringing stopped him pre-babble.

"Hello, yes, this is Rufino Morales...of course, I'll be right there. Ah, Rutherford!"
"Yes, Father?"
"Would you kindly watch over the table? I have some matters that need urgent attending to."
"Oh, okay Father, I can do that."
"Gracias."
"You're welcome."

Father Morales must have had something really important going on just to up leave like that. Of course, R.J. was a young man, perfectly capable of handling a bake sale table with little trouble. He looked around and saw some other tables , like the red cross, one of those animal shelter groups, some artistic tables like tattoo parlors and a face paint booth, and of course the various carnival games like knocking down the bottles and goldfish ping-pong. He was just hoping a customer would come up and buy something, or somebody would help him sell all this food. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand and started to daydream and gaze into space.

"...If someone gets fired from the unemployment office, do they just go to the end of the line?"
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((Joe Carrasco continued from It's Traditional To Nap In Gazebos.))

Normally, Joe's parents did not endorse his love of cooking. It took up precious studying time, and Joe suspected they feared he would one day run away and become a chef, something that he had expressed a desire to do when he was young. But as his parents were intensely religious and supportive of the church, this was one of the few times they encouraged him to cook.

Joe climbed out of the car, clinging to a bag that held a loaf of banana bread and a box of walnut and chocolate chunk brownies. He hoped they'd taste good. He was fairly confident the banana bread would (he often took chunks of it to school for lunch) but he'd only made this sort of brownie twice before.

His parents stopped Joe long enough to make sure he knew what time to be back at the car by, adding that if he wasn't back by then he'd have to get home by himself. Joe agreed to it and left in search of the table with all the baking supplies.

Didn't take long to find. The only person watching it was a girl that Joe was sure he'd seen at school on occasion. Ruth? Yes, that was it. Joe shifted nervously for a while, frozen to the spot instead of approaching the table. He could manage the occasional word towards some of the priests, but he'd never talked to Ruth before. Why was he the only one watching the table?

Okay. Okay, you can do this.

Joe managed to drag his feet forward and make his way over to the table. Staring determinately at the sky, he held out the bag of banana bread and brownies.

"Wherraputty?" he mumbled.
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"It must be awkward for your boss finding you a job..."

"Wherraputty?"

"...what?"

Joe had sneaked up on R.J., making him jump, and he was having trouble putting together what Joe had just said. The boys have been going to the same church since he could remember, but they've never really talked. He was always mumbling, and it was kinda hard to hear what he was saying. Since they were the only ones here at the table, it would be rude if R.J. didn't talk back, but he had to figure it out what he was saying first.

"What's up Rudy...where's the pudding...Oh, where do I put it!"

"Oh, you can put it anywhere, we got a lot of room." R.J. said in his usual hushed tone."Those look really good, did ya make 'em yourself?"

Joe's food was really did look good, and R.J. would probably want to eat it if his mom didn't make him eat a big breakfast.

"Meh, they'll probably be some left over."
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In response to Ruth's question about if he made the food himself, Joe opened and closed his mouth soundlessly before just nodding quietly. He still wasn't up for making any proper words, and it wasn't as if 'yes, I did cook it' needed much of an explanation.

He looked for an empty space on the table with all the baked goods, putting them down once he found a spot. This felt like a big table for one kid to be doing all the work at. Joe didn't really have much that he wanted to do and he'd feel guilty letting Ruth do it by himself. Staying to help out would probably be best, as long as he could do it without talking or making things worse.

"Uhhh... I cuh... cahh... help." Joe made an awkward gesture with his hands that was meant to indicate helpfulness, but ended up looking like a very psychotic butterfly. "Er, I'mee... wrap up... food... cus... customers. Ifawouldnabeinay."

Joe was still waving his hands about in a psychotic butterfly fashion, so he stuck them behind his back and went back to staring at the sky awkwardly.
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Joe was not a man of words.

R.J. could barely tell what the hell the man was saying, and it seemed like he was having some sort of meltdown. R.J. could be shy as well, but this was ludicrous. He started waving his arms like guys in a movie who try describe a monster they just saw.

"Uhhh... I cuh... cahh... help."

Oh, good. R.J. was worried that he would have to handle all this food by himself, since there was still this much left.

"Oh, um, thank you. There doesn't seem to be many customers right now, but there will probably be more in a minute or so." Although the air felt stilted, Ruth was glad to have the company, instead of being by his lonesome."So, uh, did you teach yourself, or did your parents teach you to cook?"
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Joe nodded and shuffled behind the table of food. He purposefully stood a bit further away from it than Ruth, so that hopefully any customers would talk to her--wait, him, that was clearly a guy's voice--and that way Joe could just help serve food and not have to attempt too much conversation.

Or at least that would be true if Ruth didn't attempt to start one up. Joe supposed he should have been expecting it.

"Uhm. Sort of... buh... both," Joe said quietly. His mother had taught him at first, when he helped in the kitchen as a little kid. But after he'd asked if he could be a chef instead of a doctor, she hadn't taught him anything else. He'd mostly taught himself after that.

"Uh... uhm... whuh... which ones did... deeyoomake?" Joe asked, waving his hands at the various foods. Maybe they would talk for a while without needing him to say much. He was better at listening. The best way not to say something stupid was to not say anything at all, and if they started talking they might not notice he was being quiet.

Joe fidgeted with his hands, and kept looking anywhere but where Ruth was standing.
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"Uh... uhm... whuh... which ones did... deeyoomake?"

"Oh, well, I didn't actually make anything...but my mom made these cupcakes here. I just made the flyers and posted some of them."

Joe was really starting to look very uncomfortable, what with the fidgeting and the not looking at people. R.J. had been in this position before, albeit not recently, so he could tell this conversation wasn't going to go far. He laid his head upon the table, watching as the people of the fair strolled along. Not even looking at the food. All this food, no one's even giving them a quick glance, like they were invisible.

"...Wish someone would say something."
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That reply didn't go for very long. It was much easier when the other person was a chatterbox who could talk for a full hour after being spurred on by one vague question. Travis was like that. All Joe had to do was go 'horror movies' and Travis would be off like a horse that had just been lit on fire. Irrelevant, since Travis was one of the few people Joe could actually manage fluid conversation with, but...

Joe fiddled with his fingers some more as silence fell. There'd be customers soon, right? Who didn't like bake sales? Food. Food was awesome.

Joe heard a small thump and chanced a glance up. He saw that Ruth was resting his head on the table. Head on the table of food.

Gah, what is he doing? You don't put your head on a table of food, that's like sticking your face into a bowl of salad, it's unsanitary, he's going to get hair in the brownies or something, nooooo...

Joe tried to verbalize this concern in the most polite manner possible. What came out was "Gaaaah-ah-dah-dah-dah!" and a lot more hand flailing. This time in a more sweepy fashion, as he tried to gesture for Ruth to get off the table. "Head. Table. Off. Nottapillo," he forced out, agitation creeping into his voice. A more inarticulate version of what he did whenever his aunt stuck her finger in whatever he was cooking in order to have a taste.

Realizing he was being pushy (especially by his standards) he went bright red afterwards and stuck his hands behind his back. "S'rry."
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((Rosemary Michaels continued from Magic Man))

As she was on her daily walk Rosemary had stumbled on a sign with the word "Bake Sale" in bold letters. She knew it probably wasn't the healthiest route to go for a snack, but the inner foodie in her made the girl walk up to one of the stand, clutching a battered messenger bag that held a few paperbacks along with her notebook. When she got closer she noticed two boys having what appeared to be a strange and awkward-turtle inducing conversation.

Oh boy... just ask politely if they have some brownies, then walk away. Rosemary thought to herself, before walking closer and standing a bit off to the side of Joe. "Um, excuse me. Is this stand open?"
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"...I'l just close my eyes for 2 seconds, but I can't fall asleep..."

As R.J. was falling asleep, his mind was leaving him for a zen-like state. Too bad it was ruined before it could have been created.

"Gaaaah-ah-dah-dah-dah! "Head. Table. Off. Nottapillo."

"Ah,waitwhat, sorry..."

R.J. was embarrassed. He fell asleep on the job, and he wasn't even tired. He was just bored.

"Um, excuse me. Is this stand open?"

Ah, finally. A customer, one that R.J. was waiting for more a very long 6 minutes.

"Uh, yeah-yeah, of course, we got everything you see!"
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Ruth apologised for falling asleep on the food table. Joe tried to tell him it was okay and that he just didn't want to get hair in any of the pastries, but all that came out was a timid "fehh."

Oh, to be able to speak properly. Scratch that, to be able to speak at all would be fantastic.

At last a customer arrived. Joe shuffled back a bit instinctively so that they'd hopefully talk to Ruth rather than him. The girl looked familiar. Probably from school, although Joe couldn't specifically place where he'd seen her, nor what her name was. He really should look at people's faces more, rather than at their shoes.

Of course, he was still staring downwards anyway. Huh. Her shoes looked even more familiar.

When she asked if the store was open, Joe didn't answer. He just nervously fiddled with his fingers and nodded as Ruth answered for him.
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Rosemary blinked a little at how enthusiastic the boy behind the counter sounded. At least she thought he was a boy... and the other one seemed to keep staring down at the ground. Well, at least I'm not the only one who's a bit shy...

The girl walked fowards a little, looking down at the items on the table before her eyes rested on a very delectable plate of brownies. Her face seemed to light up a little when she saw them.

"How much for one of those?" She asked, pointing at the brownies.
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R.J. needed to calm down. It's not like he just won a million dollars or anything. The girl seemed to be from his school, now that his eyes were more then half-opened.

"How much for one of those?"
"Oh, there only a dollar a piece."

His voice was steady, unlike usual, just trying to to stop from giggling.Whatever, R.J. could be happy as he wanted. It probably wasn't going to get much better than this anyway.
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It sounded like she was interested in buying something. Joe didn't see which food she was talking about, given that his eyes were still glued to the floor, but that meant he had something to do. They had to have plates or baggie things around, right?

Joe glanced around behind the table and found both a stack of paper plates and some plastic food baggies. Suppose it would depend on whether she was going to eat it while wandering around or just keep it until she got home.

Joe looked up, intending to try and ask whether she wanted a plate or bag, and ended up just making a noise similar to that of a dog's chew toy. Gaaah, was she looking at the brownies he'd made? He shouldn't be flipping out about that... he wouldn't bring them if he was sure they were terrible, but he wasn't sure if they were good enough. Why didn't he test them before he left? (His aunt had stolen one and said they were good, but he'd seen her dip her chips in mayonnaise so he didn't really trust her opinions on cuisine.)

"Aaaauhhhm. ...Bag?" he mumbled, picking up the package of plastic baggies.
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Rosemary was getting out her money when a weird noise came from the other boys' mouth, causing her to start and drop her wallet.

Dammit... stupid butterfingers. Stupid...

The dollar bill that she was getting out had started to float off as she picked up her wallet. "Oh, no..." The girl started to move after it.
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