Face Number 1

This was the very first face. I was eating one of those chocolate ball things and I bit in and looked and hey! There was the face, complete with teeth in the mouth. He is a Cyclops but I like him all the same. After this face, I began finding more and more and more. So, really, this little guy was the start of it all.

Note: I used a pencil to make the little dot in the eye, but that was the only thing that I altered. There still would have been a face without it but I felt like the pencil dot emphasized the eye.

Sprinkle Hunt 5: The Final Piece

The end of this journey is near. You can feel it in the wind. It puts a spring in your step and gives you a light heart. When you reach the blue container again, you know exactly what to do. Pushing off from the ground, you jump up and flap the walnut wings. It's a long flight up, but you reach the peak. You see it, what you knew you would see. The FLOUR FLOWER.

You see that it is an inscription in the flour, done by the indigenous people of the kitchen. They seem to have a great artistry. There is a message on the side of the containter. "Partake of the flourous fruit of the flour flower, and use it only in your greatest need." Well, 'greatest need' seems to describe your situation. You scoop up some of the flour and stuff it in your pocket. Then you jump off the peak and fly done, lightly hitting the counter. Now what? Hmmm. You sit down and think, leaning your head against the eye of egg. And you see something in the crack... You push your eye up against the crack and look. WHAT IS THIS???? OH NO!! You see the culprit of the crime- the thief of your sprinkles. And it is... SOUR CREAM TWIST! And you see him, sour cream twist, sitting at the top of the fridge, drawing up some sort of plans on paper, with your sprinkles right there next to him! They look worried and scared. You look closer... The plans seem to detail what he intends to do with the sprinkles... such as sprinkling them on himself. That wouldn't be so bad, only 1. excessive sprinkling is a terrible, terrible thing. 2. breakfast foods don't need sprinkles! You pull yourself away. You know what you have to do. You roll the egg away; you won't need it anymore. And you push off from the ground yet again, flying up to the top of the fridge. The flight takes several hours, but it gives you time to examine the different magnets and that's enjoyable. Okay, you are there! "WHAT???" gasps sour cream twist. You look at him.

"I have come to take my rightful sprinkles back! I need them! You don't!" Sour Cream Twist glares at you. "I want sprinkles. I want to make myself colorful. I want them, and I don't want anyone else to have them. And if I don't get them, I will burn them and make sure no one else will!" OH! You are astounded that he suggested burning sprinkles. What kind of a world is this? "You are a twisted delicacy!!" you say to him. "Yes, I am! I'm a maniac but I will have sprinkles. The world has given me no recognition! Bagels, Donuts, Pastrys, Hot Cross Buns! I have no place in the breakfast industry! No one knows of me! Sprinkles will give me the boost I need! Children will see me and be filled with joy! Everyone loves sprinkles and everyone will love me! I hate a world that I have no place in!" OH!! Again, you are astounded. "You are so bitter! You are so sour! Not even sprinkles will sweeten up your life." Sour Cream Twist doesn't want to talk about himself anymore. He is tired of you. He nods, and you feel the walnut wings being ripped off your back. You turn around, and his henchmen are right there. You didn't plan for this. But then you realize, you have elbows. And so you elbow the henchmen off the edge of the fridge. They fall, and Sour Cream Twist is upset, even more. He snarls at you. You reach into your pocket and pull out the flour in your pocket. You throw it at him. "NOOOOO!!!!!" he yells. "I was supposed to be down with flour! It reminds me of my early days, of being kneaded! NOOOOO! How... how dare you..." Sour Cream Twist writhes on the ground, squirming. You run to your sprinkles and hug them. Its good to be reunited. As for Sour Cream Twist... he's no longer so twisty. He squirmed his way out of twistiness and is now just a long, straight piece of dough, coated with butter, sugar, and cinnamon. You feel sorry for him. "Look," you say to him. "Look here, you don't need sprinkles to be special. You are amazing as you are. You have a twist. You have sour cream. Those are amazing characteristics. Look, if you feel overshadowed by massproduced breakfast goods, if you feel all alone... Don't. I know someone who will be your friend... Just come with me." You gesture to Sour Cream Twist, and, sniffling a little bit, he follows you. He was just lonely and embittered after all. When you introduce him to his new friend, he perks up. He squirms with happiness and twists back into shape. His new friend? Cinnamon Bun. He's twisted too, in a different way. Or maybe its rolled. At any rate, he's homemade and yummy, just like Sour Cream Twist. It's a breakfast match made in heaven.

You look at Sour Cream Twist and Cinnamon Bun and you feel happy. You look at Sprinkles at your side, and she smiles up at you. "Let's go sprinkle those cookies," you say. And you do. And they taste delicious.

Sprinkle Hunt 4

You run onto the stove, almost tripping over the burners. The heat flares up around you and you race past. Breathless, you reach the end of the stove. There is something on the wire rack next to the stove. Is that... a pie? How peculiar. You climb up onto the wire rack. Yes, that would be a pie.

You pull yourself up, onto the crust. Its cushy underneath your sore feet. This pie seems comfortable. You let down your guard and relax. Its a pie! Its all good! You walk around on top of it. It is enjoyable. You bounce up and down a little, like you are on a trampoline. How fun. Up and down, up and down, you really like to bounce! Wow, that was a high jump! You land back on the pie, laughing, and... WHOOOOOOOSH! "ARAH!" you yell, falling on the ground and rolling to the side to prevent the flood of hot air that just came whooshing up out of the crevasse in the crust. Its like a geyser, but without the water. And its scary. The channel of air lasts about 20 seconds, and then it stops, abruptly. You turn your head to the left. Another crevasse. You move to the side, just in time, because another fountain of air just spurted up. You scooch to the crust and lean up against it, avoiding any and all of the fissures. You observe as they sporadically explode, counting the number of seconds they last: 22. You are calm enough to notice something else: the smell. But the odor throws you off guard. Raisins? In a pie? That's preposterous. But... your nose has never let you down. You sniff again. Raisins, yes, and lemon, and... walnuts! WALNUTS! WALNUT WINGS! Oh, glory day! Oh, this is great! But, as always, a problem. The walnuts are in the pie. Under the crust. And, as you think about it, you realize it would not be a good idea to just tear into the pie, because there is probably a lot more hot air in there, and it could burn you. So. Now what? An idea hatches into your mind. What if, what if you managed to pull the wings out of one of the crevasses. Sure, they are deep, but if you could pull the wings out of the side, rather than the bottom... It might work. Yes, why not? Why not! It is dangerous to stick your hand into a chasm filled with hot air but if the hot air is not coming out... You become more confident with your idea. You move near a fissure. You wait a few moments, and hot air begins to rise. You move your head away, waiting it to be over. "20,21,22," you count out loud, and then plunge your hand down. You can feel the wrinkly raisins and something hard, oh! You grab the walnut and pull it out. Oh. This is only a piece of walnut. It couldn't be the wings. You wait until the next expulsion, then repeat the process, pulling out another chopped walnut. Again, and again, its just pieces. But you don't lose faith, you are confident this is where the walnut wings are. And you are rewarded. You pull out a walnut, it's not chopped up. You look.

The walnut looks like butterfly wings. Yes, yes, those ARE the walnut wings. You clutch the first of the Sacred Objects. And you laugh. Hysterically. Because you did it. All by yourself. Finally, you accomplished something. Its marvelous. You look around, as if receiving applause from an audience. As you turn your head from side to side, nodding to acknowledge the support of your fans, you notice something on the stove. Something that wasn't there before. Three things, actually. All white and round. Your curiousity is intrigued. You stand up, walk around the crevasses and step off the pie, and off the wire rack. You trot over to the stove. Right there, in the front. Eggs. And... what's this? Something is on one of them.
It looks like a crack. It also looks like the crack is looking at you. It looks like an eye. The EYE OF EGG? No, it couldn't be that easy. A Sacred Object couldn't be just sitting there, out in the open. You know that. But you can't deny the eye. So... It must be it. You congratulate yourself on your good luck. Hurrah! Now all that's left is to find the FLOUR FLOWER. So you roll the eye of egg on before you and clip on your walnut wings and on you go!

Sprinkle Hunt 3

You wake up, startled. A fierce brusque wind blows to the south, against your face. There is a brightness from above, shedding light on the counter, but it is devoid of warmth. You stand up, renewed, and ready to continue your journey, despite the unfriendly weather, and overall circumstances. You trudge ahead, against the wind, hardly making any headway. The wind stops for a brief moment, and you almost fall over. You look ahead, and there is a barren tundra out before you. Is that really what you crossed, last night in the dark? It looks desolate and unwelcoming. But you must press on, despite the resistance of the wind. Progress is slow, and you have to bow your head down and squint your eyes. You look up for a moment. What is that?!? A huge whirlwind, sweeping through the air, coming straight for you! Is it dust? Sand? Sugar? Noooo. You feel more wind in your face, and the debris in the air coats your face. Its flour! The storm is nearly upon you! You duck down, crouching in the fetal position on the counter, covering your face against the flour... you feel it rushing against your back... okay, the worst is over. You remain down for a few minutes more until you know that it is safe. But then you resume your walking, thankful to be out of danger, and yet still marveling that you managed to come out of that. Quickly, you begin to tire, and the wind shows no sign of stopping.... but then... it stops. What a miracle! You straighten up and survey the landscape, cocky and smiling. And then your smile fades.

Flour is scattered all across the surface of the counter, a windswept pattern of hills and mountainous terrain. The wind must have piled up the flour, and now you have to cross through the ridges. You sigh. The winds are obviously not on your side. You wish the mystic spoon could have made them nicer. But this is no time for wishful thinking and you really must continue. You walk and walk and walk, through the paths in the flour mountains, past the monotonous landscape. This is terrible. This really is. But things might be looking up because now you can see a high blue peak in the distance, one that was too far away to see earlier. Finally, after many more hours of hiking, you reach the base of the peak. It is a cylinder, but a peak nonetheless. You become dizzy just looking up at the top. A notion pops into your head: if you were at the top, you would be able to see many different things... many Sacred things... maybe even many Sacred Objects... Oho, that is one fantastic notion! But wait, there is a problem. How do you plan on reaching the top of this peak? You can't scale a smooth vertical wall without equipment or experience or whatever else you need to be able to scale a smooth vertical wall. You just can't do it. Disappointment reigns supreme... again. You sit down at the base of the peak, leaning up against the wall, looking out at the flour terrain in the tundra area. Wait a minute... wait just one minute... FLOUR! The FLOUR flower! How could you not have remembered? And, oh no, you've already past all the flour! Will you have to backtrack and search all over for a flour flower? Say it ain't so! That would be so terrible! You bash your head against the cylindral peak. You make up your mind just as your forehead begins to bleed. "NO!" you say. You seem to be angry. You begin to yell. "NO! I will NOT go back! You CANNOT make me! NO!" You turn and run off in the direction of the stove, without giving one look back.

Ketchup: A Great Saga Part 2

Alright now, we've introduced you to your life in the fridge. That's your personal life. That's your life that starts and ends in the fridge. Don't even think about dragging it across the food products. It's all about professionalism. It's all about keeping your cool. You should know that by now, young bottle. So I won't waste any more of my time. Let's get started.

Ketchup: A Great Saga

Part 2

Techniques for Food Products

Meatloaf. The most elementary of food surfaces. It's flat. It's solid. It's a blank canvas for you. What do you want to do on it? No, you can't get artistic. We as ketchup bottles must stick to technical. What was that? You feel a little fancy? You feel like breaking the rules? Do you feel like paying the consequences? Do you feel like having the food product you tainted, thrust aside out of sheer revulsion to your mess? Right. I didn't think so. Now, listen up, here is the most basic of all ketchup squirts: the blob. The blob is a thick mass of ketchup. It doesn't require much effort from you. It doesn't look very pretty either. But if you are starting out, you want to play it safe, it's ok, it's ok. The blob is perfect for dipping, so if you have french fries, its the best style to use. Next we encounter the glaze. The glaze is an even coat. Its not very pratical. But it looks good and sometimes it is bakeable. To explain further, some people but ketchup on their meatloaf and then bake it all as one and then the glaze become permanent. However, I feel that that takes away from the defining characterists of the ketchup, one of which is moistness. This next one is for those of you who feel you are super special. It's the swizzle. I know, I know. Its impressive. But it takes superb control. One mistake, and it is ruined. You cannot expect to move onto this beauty unless you've mastered the blob and the glaze. So hold up. Let's go with step by step instructions for this here technique. 1. Turn upside down. You should have that down by now. We don't want you to stand upright, bursting ketchup into the air, and staining someone's walls with lycopene. 2. Breath out. This is imperative. We don't want you to lose your cool. Just relax. 3. Let out a line of ketchup while slowly rocking back and forth, and while moving yourself forward. This is multitasking, yes. Ok. Now finish off with 4. a quick flip to the upright position. Alright everyone, that's how you do it. I wouldn't expect you to have that down on the first try. You've probably spilled all over yourself haven't you? heh. Amateur. Practice hard, maybe next time you'll get it... better. There is one rule for the swizzle: Do not use it excessively. Catsups who swizzle on their fries are considered fancy and snottish. And no one wants to think of the aristocracy while chowing down on greasy fries. The swizzle is only acceptable for foods that taste best with minimal ketchup. Alright? Alright. Thank you. Thank you for your time. Remember, you too, can become an exceptional Ketchup. It just takes time, perserverence, and rigorous discipline.

The Prodigal Power Bars

This is a story of the power bars. Around two years ago, my brother, Ben, was in leadership, in high school. He was also in cross-country. He did some event or thing, something for one of the mentioned extracurricular activities and, anyways, he brought home these power bars from school. They tasted disgusting, but they were supposed to be full of energy. Ben kept these things in his room. I don't know whether he thought he would eat them or whether he just wanted to have them around or what, but he did keep them. When he shipped off for college, the power bars got put in his closet. And there they have sat, so docilely, for two years, until a few weeks ago. We had to get into Ben's closet and they got taken out. So just imagine: a box of twenty-something power bars. They lived the high life in the high school, were surrounded by hungry teenagers. They were full of energy, what is more appealing. Wow. They were the bomb. Then. Then they got taken to a house. They sat in a box, all day, every day. Their numbers did not diminish. There was no hope for them. They just sat there. Then they get shoved in the closet, in the dark, for a year and a half. Ben comes home on vacation, probably doesn't eat any. Probably doesn't give them a second thought. (And who can blame him?) They suffer tremendous disappointment. No one cares about them. Even if anyone knew about their sorry existence, no one would care about them. That hurts them. Finally, they get taken out of the closet. Okay? That's intense. Now back to the present. I'm in a video class, at school, and my group is making a video about a magical power bar. So, when we started filming (if you want to call it that) we needed a power bar prop. I passed by Ben's room after school and there it is: A giant box of power bars. So I take, like, 5 to school. And there it is! The power bars finally came home to their first home: high school. Oh, the glory days. Now, they don't taste good at all, but, some things just don't change. They expired a year ago. But someone in my class still ate a part of one. And then spit it out into the garbage. And whenever we have to open up a power bar, it smells like an antique. I don't think the power bars notice the revulsion with which they are looked upon. To them, its being back amongst teenagers that really makes them happy. I guess the Power Bars give us a hope that really, you are never too old, or expired to return to the good times.
Note: These power bars aren't really prodigal, because, at no point in their lives have they actually been prodigal, but their story is somewhat similar to the story of the Prodigal son, from the Bible, you know. The power bars leave their home, have a rough time, then come home, like the son. So that's why I call them prodigal, even if they aren't.

Sprinkle Hunt 2

We left off as you had just finished talking with cookie. You learned that you needed to go east. And so east you go. You walk along the counter, shuffling your feet along the smooth surface. You encounter a few monuments along your trek, such as Toaster, and Coffee Maker. They tower over your weak little stature and you feel small and insignificant amonst such machines. You walk in a steady direction, but so far, you have not met with any food product who can assist you, or any other clues to the missing sprinkles. Far ahead in the distance you can see the wall, a deadend to the counter. Was compass cookie's advice really that accurate? What if he was just lying about knowing which way to go? How could a conglomeration of flour, sugar, and eggs glow, anyways? How could you have been so stupid to believe him??? You almost punch yourself; its so humiliating to have trusted a cookie. You look around. You realize that you really don't want to go east at all, you want to go south. So you change directions and take a turn, ignoring the path that compass cookie set you on. The light above seems to have faded. You can hardly see where you are going. You want to stop because you have been walking a long time now. But then you remember your sprinkles, and you speed up, almost running. Suddenly, you feel a bump under your feet, and then they fly out from under you! You are falling through the air now, flailing about, unable to feel anything around you. When will this stop? What will become of you? Your life begins to flash before your eyes when- OOMPH! Something swoops up from under you, rescuing you. You don't feel anyone, though. It seems as if... as if gravity has stopped... or maybe... wait, you feel your hair flowing in one direction. That's very odd. It must be... wind. A strong wind, or air current, or something like that must be carrying you. WHUP! The wind stopped, dropping you back on the counter. You are dazed, and so you think you must be hallucinating when you hear a noise like a peg leg hitting the counter. A faint glow comes from the distance and suddenly... a wooden spoon hobbles up. She peers at you with psychic eyes. How peculiar... this must be the mystic spoon that compass cookie had mentioned. He must not have been quite the liar you thought, about that, anyway. "For what do you seek?" says the spoon. You are taken aback by her raspy voice. "I seek my sprinkles," you reply. She hobbles up closer to you and her piercing glare makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable, so you squirm. However, the spoon does not understand your subtle hint, and remains, still, very close to you. "You did not follow the cookie's advice... did you now? DID YOU?" The mystical wooden spoon rears up to her full height, intimidating you, and making you fidget even more. "no" you manage to say, though it costs you great effort. "Then you must make an even longer journey to find what you seek. Your lack of confidence in the compass cookie has cost you your time. You should have listened to him, YOU SHOULD HAVE STUCK TO THE EAST... but now... now, if you do not resue your precious sprinkles, the blame is fully upon you. The captor of your sprinkles will take advantage of your weak nature. He now has time to lock them up before you reach him and the only way to release your sprinkles from eternal captivity is to collect the Sacred Objects. These Objects are of the indigenous peoples of the kitchen. They have certain powers... I have spent my whole life studying these powers. Only the Sacred Objects have the ability to truly help you defeat the kidnapper of your sprinkles. Find them, take them, learn from them. Now, to see which of the Objects you must seek, peer deep into the crystal ball nature of my wooden spoon head.

"Peer deep within... past the clouds and haze of the future... now... what do you see...?" You peer deep. You look, and you see... a flying figure... a cracked eye... a flower... You tell the wooden spoon of these things. "Ah..." she says. "The WALNUT WINGS. The EYE OF EGG. The FLOUR FLOWER. You must find these things. You must take them. You must use them to defeat the evil and rescue your sprinkles. Once you have them, continue east. Do not waver. Do not be dissuaded. I summoned the winds to save you when you turned the wrong way. I cannot do that again. No one else can help you now. You are all alone." As the mystic speaks, she walks backwards, and suddenly, she is gone. You feel sad, and lonely, and ashamed that you doubted the cookie. The quest for your sprinkles has turned into such a huge deal. Now you must find these, what? 'Sacred' Objects? What is that about? You consider ignoring the mystic. No, no, that would not be wise. You need all the help you can get and there is a slight possibility that these Objects can help you. You decide to take a short rest before you continue, however. You lie down on the cold hard counter, and sigh, "Thank you, mystic wooden spoon." And then you drift off to sleep...