Flash Fiction

The Recipe for Success

Thursday, 2:42pm: We find Betty Crocker diligently perfecting her new Orange Creme Flan recipe.
 
"A dash of vanilla, some grated orange peel, 3 tablespoons of brandy", she mumbles as she whirls ingredients into her favorite stainless steel mixing bowl.
 
"Mrs. Crocker! Mrs. Crocker!" a distraught lad with wild, flour-powdered hair runs in. "You won't believe what Mr. Finch just made!"
 
Without looking up from her flan, Betty says directly: "Trout Almondine. He has been working on that for days."
 
"No! No!" - the lad begins thrusting his finger in an energetic point down the hall - "You won't believe it! He's made success!"
 
"Pardon me? A successful what?" Betty always stresses the last word in her sentences, even more so when she is agitated. The stress on "what" was palpable.
 
The lad shook his head and quickly went to Betty, taking her wrist and tugging her toward the door. Before recognizing the lad's audacity and having time to express the requisite outrage, Betty found herself pulled out the door and down the hall.
 
"Here, look! Mr. Finch has discovered the recipe for success!", the lad exclaimed and pointed to Mr. Finch.
 
Mr. Finch looked up from a glowing orb, hovering six inches above a pie pan. "That's right, Mrs. Crocker. I have discovered the recipe for success."
 
The orb pulsed and shimmered, radiating heat, light, and, for the first recorded time, waves of success.
 
"I was trying yet again at the Trout Almondine when I accidentally knocked in ------". (Betty Crocker Industries, Worldwide prevents me, your humble author, from naming the secret ingredient.) "Instantly, my dish congealed into an oily substance, then began to ripple as if someone had dropped a stone into the mix. It formed itself into a sphere then levitated itself as you see here."
 
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