Abigail - Home is Where the Comfort Food Is

There had been an awful lot of clattering going on in the kitchens located on the main floor of the girls’ section of the school. Pots and pans, various food canisters, utencils ranging from teaspoons to large ladles—they all clashed together to create a loud ruckus that surprisingly seemed to bother no one. The girls were probably too used to that sweet Abigail Judson making loud magic in the kitchens to even notice. That…or they had their headsets turned up loud enough to drown her out, or they were lying awake and contemplating coming down to shut her up soon. Whatever effect Abigail had on her dormmates, she was left to her own devices at that time. Devices that included knives of varying sizes, large and heavy metal objects, ingredients that could either make you moan in pleasure or cry from odd burning sensations, and things that even Abigail didn’t know the technical terms for.

The magician herself had looked to be more of a mad scientist than anything, abnormal for Miss Judson. Her hair was more of a frizzy mess than ever before, breaking loose of her hairtie and falling around her face in a bothersome way. The clothes she wore, blue plaid pajama bottoms and a big tee-shirt she had borrowed from her father ages ago, were almost completely covered in various food items. So covered were they, in fact, that it was difficult to make sense of what was underneath the layers of dried, caked-on mess.

Of course, Abigail noticed nothing about her appearance. All she had cared about just then, was perfecting her recipe. It had been a strenuous recipe, one that she had been working on for hours, wasting loads and loads of ingredients on, stressing herself out over. She didn’t even know what it was she was making. The senior had actually dreamt about this little project. Vanilla ice cream made from scratch, chocolate and caramel morsels, strawberry bits…all concocted together, then frozen. At precisely the right time, it had to be removed from the freezer and allowed to melt just a little. A straw then was shoved into its side, one end sticking out and the other in the middle of the ball of ice cream, and Abigail had to blow gently into the straw to inflate it. If she blew too hard or fast, the entire thing would explode and be ruined (tasty, sure, to eat as it was, but not the outcome Abigail wanted). Once the ball of ice cream had been stretched to a decent size, a step that she had not yet been able to succeed in finishing, Abigail would tilt the thing onto its side that way the hole from the straw was on top. Gently, she would make the hole just a teensy bit bigger. If she could get all of this done quickly enough, before it melted or was destroyed…or eaten, she could fill it with all kinds of delicious goodies—melted peanut butter, chocolate, and caramel, light marshmallow fluff, and more.

Before she could get to the fun step of filling the “shell”, though, she had to wait for it to freeze, then melt slightly. She had watched it with a careful eye as it melted. Her neck had been aching, as had her back, and her feet had been starting to pain from being in big non-arch-supporting mice slippers. But she watched on, paying no mind to her body’s distress. Any moment now… Any moment… The words repeated through her mind endlessly, stroking her patience with every repeat. She just wanted to get to filling it so she could re-freeze it. Again.

“Aha!” she had cried in such a way that only made her appear more mad. After snatching up a straw, Abigail had slowly pushed it into the ice cream ball. She had then started to blow into it gently, her fingers crossed, and watch it grow in size. Just a little more… A…little…more… There! With a squeal, she had bounced up with her newly inflated ball of tasty ice cream and pulled the straw from it. Then, for the fun. Abigail had rolled the ball over, hole side up, and after making the entrance a bit larger, began to pour in the earlier prepared ingredients. “Chocolate, peanut butter, marshmallow, caramel… No, no! Not yet. More…more ice cream!” All the while that she worked, the young woman muttered to herself with wide, half-wild eyes. Ingredient after ingredient went into the ball, along with more ice cream to help hold everything together. “Caramel, now… Peanut butter, chocolate, caramel, more marshmallow…more ice cream…”

Within ten minutes, she was finished with that step. Now came the last stretch. Placing a bit of ice cream over the hole, she packed it in with a spoon so that the sphere was round and hole-less. Then she put it in the freezer again, to wait…

Now it was over two hours later, over two hours after midnight, less than two hours before she would want to get up to start making breakfast for her boys over in the other set of dorms. Abigail checked her concoctions in the freezer. With a well-learned and very excited eye, she decided that they were finished. She chewed on her lip excitedly as she pulled the thing from the wintery-cold habitat.

…What now?

She was at a bit of a loss for what to do next. She hadn’t expected to get this far with her project, much less finish it. But now she had finished it and it was far too early to go to her usual taste-test victoms. David and Basil were probably sleeping, seeing as it was the weekend, and she didn’t know Roxie quite well enough to go calling on her after two in the morning. So, who? The question flicked inside her brain, an echo coming back to let her know there were no answers. Alright. How about “where”? This question was much easier to answer. There were a few places she could think of that would have students awake and fuctioning at such an hour. Her first thought and choice was the student lounge.

Abigail literally ran from the dorms, then, not stopping to grab proper shoes or a coat, not even a jacket, nor did she at least slow to fix her wild hair. The mad scientist of a girl ran out of the building and into the freezing air of approaching winter… And didn’t notice. She currently had a one-track mind. Get the food into someone’s mouth. Immediately. In order to do that, she had to get to the student lounge. Someone had to be there, surely.

Bursting into the lounge with a startling BANG!, a few pairs of eyes in the room turned to stare at her. Was that Abigail Judson? Looking out of her mind? Yes, yes it was. Abigail looked around for someone suitable to taste her creation. Now that she had found a couple people, she had to find the best one to try her most recently delivered child. Ew, grosse analogy, Abigail.

“YOU THERE!” Abigail suddenly shouted out; she herself hadn’t expected to shout. She ran to the girl in pajamas, staring out a window. “Try this.” Shoving the plate and spoon under the girl’s nose, she bounced one of her heels as if she had to use the restroom. Quickly, quickly, quickly… She was anxious to know if it was any good. Sure, she could have tried it herself, but what fun was there in that? She wanted to know what this random stranger thought of her recipe, a fresh and hopefully open-minded person to give an opinion.

Abigail - Home is Where the Comfort Food Is

Kaiya Knox

New Orleans, United States

  • Artist

Artist's Description

A post for Paradise Pier.
(Collab with Quinn A. Hart)

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