Post
Region: Refugia
"...you'll have 24 hours, so get- hold on, who is that? Sir?"
All eyes turned as Fennex addressed the stranger who was presently rummaging through the pantry, pulling down cake ingredients. Blue jeans, boots, flannel, and a grin half-turned to face them. "Oh, hi. Keith Salzman, how's you doing?"
"Wha- don't these studios have security? How did he get in here?" Seemingly unaware of Fennex's protests, Keith continued opening cartons of eggs, looking for the good ones. "Sir, you're no-"
"Please, just Keith. Sir was my father's name." A fit of suppressed laughter ensued as he loaded a shop cart with bags of flour and sugar.
"Where did you even GET that? S- Keith, you're not on the list, you can't just walk in here a-"
"Ah, don't worry, I heard the whole thing. Preheat the oven, make the cake, right? Easy, don't worry about me- yowch!" He'd been testing the knives. They were sharp. "Ooh, that stings."
The contestants could only watch the exchange unfold, Fennex struggling to get through. "No, sir, you have to regist- we only have so many slots, this is a very prestigious competition and everyone has signed the TV waivers, you just can't show up like this an-"
"We're gonna be on TV? Oh man, that sounds great, sign me up, you don't gotta worry about me causing a fuss there, Mr. Dryer." Finding a glass, Keith poured a finger of vanilla extract and pounded it. "Ooh yeah, that'll do."
"It's not Mr. Dry..." Fennex scratched his head in resignation. "Fine, Keith, but you haven't picked a station, you don't even have an apron. And you don't know your flavour yet, how can you be selecting your ingredients?"
"Oh, that's no problem," Keith reassured. "I already got one." Sorting his cart out, he hoisted a fish with "VANILLA" stamped on it. "I've been here all morning. You gotta be early when you're fishing, it takes time to make a catch."
"You've... been here all day." Fennex sighed. "I should have you thrown out."
As though suddenly remembering something, Keith continued, "Oh, yeah, and I should ask, how did you magnetize the fish, anyway? 'Cause that seemed kinda messed up to me."
"You know what, it really is... Fine, you're in. Everybody, you've got 24 hours to make the most stunning cake. And... GO!"
---
Three hours later, Fennex spoke worryingly to a producer while he watched Keith decorate. "I just don't know about this guy. Tell me truthfully, is this a bit? Did one of the TV people plant him?"
"Nobody has owned up to it, but we'll keep looking."
"I mean, I spoke to him an hour ago, he just wanted to talk about darts. Not baking. Not even a real sport!" He shook his head. "I don't know what we'll do if he's good."
Keith gave a full arm wave, scattering loose flour on the station next to his. "Uh, Mr. Dryer, I gotta cake here for you!"
The cake was wide, at least ten inches across and three layers high. Ceramic-white frosting adorned the outside, little swirls and spikes creating uneven texture, and a raised border of icing from a star tip surrounded the top edge, gradually increasing and decreasing in height. The top center of the cake was occupied by a rendition of a vanilla plant in green, white, and black icing.
"I don't get why you gave everyone so long to bake. These things'll dry out 'f you take that long with them."
Cutting in for a slice revealed the three layers, the cake flaking off where it's cut. The scent of vanilla from the cake and frosting was strong, but the layers were separated with a light chocolate frosting - "To even it up," Keith explained. With nothing but reluctance, Fennex had to admit that it was at least a real entry. "Well Keith, I must say, this is..."
