042. Custard Pie

[samson]

[Brock's at his cabin like he usually is, and he assumes Molotov is in her office like she usually is. So he opens his journal and pens a filter to her, quickly jotting down a note.]

Hey baby. Do you want to learn to cook?

Comments

[molotov]

I just mean that I do not have any things because I am satisfied, I have no unmet needs.

[samson]

I'm not ... saying I'm unsatisfied, there's just some stuff I want to try. Fun stuff.

[molotov]

Well, that is what I am trying to accomodate. I just happen to not have any "stuff" right now.

[samson]

Well ... maybe if we try my thing, you'll get ideas for some more things.

[molotov]

That is why I am trying to get you to tell me your thing!

[samson]

We have to get drunk first.

[But it's around this time that the oven timer goes off! So Brock drains his glass again and then punches the dough a bit before putting it on the pizza stone.]

We need to, uh ... [Vague gesture. The wine is starting to get to him.]

[molotov]

[She stares blankly. The wine is getting to her too, and she doesn't know what he means.]

[samson]

The ... you know. We have to do this thing. [More gesturing!!!]

With the cheese ...

[molotov]

It does not just [tiny hiccup] roll out?

[samson]

[Brock stares at her for a second, trying to suss out what she's talking about. Rolling out ... cheese? Cheese sheets?

But then the only thing he can think about is her hiccupping, and he bursts out laughing, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a kiss.]

You're really cute. No, we need to put on sauce and cheese and ... stuff. Your little meats.

[molotov]

[MOLOTOV JUST SEEMS CONFUSED.]

But doesn't the crust have to be flat?

[samson]

[Brock looks over a the dough.]

Oh ... right.

We need a thing.

[molotov]

A thing?

[samson]

A thing to flatten the ... thing.

[molotov]

Oh. A thing.

[WHAT?]

[samson]

A thing to roll it out! You know, a rolling ... thing. [Rolling pin maybe??]

[molotov]

[Molotov just stares. WHY DON'T YOU GET IT OUT, BROCK?]

[samson]

[He stares back. HE DOESN'T REALIZE THAT WOULD BE QUCKER...]

[molotov]

[Molotov stares for a few more moments before filling up her glass again.]

I have no idea what you mean.

[samson]

Oh.

[He takes out a rolling pin in that case, and starts flattening the dough.]

So do you want anything else on your guy?

[molotov]

Arugula.

[samson]

Hmm. [He's trying to remember if they have any ... just rollin' in silence for a little bit.]

I think I got some at the market. Maybe? Or maybe I brought some from the garden. Check the bags.

[molotov]

[Molotov goes to half-heartedly dig through the bags. She returns with a handful of several green things, because she doesn't know for sure which is right.]

[samson]

[Brock points them out!] Basil, arugula, cilantro, parsley, tarragon.

[molotov]

[She hands him the arugula.]