It’s also the last microfic of the December Giraffe Call!!
…some year between 25 and 35 of the Addergoole School, early in the year.
“I have… three cookies and half an onion.” Diarmaid stared at the tiny kitchenette. “What did you say you brought?”
“A potato and a box of minute rice, and Tony brought some butter and some soda.” Diar’s friends and podmates set their offerings on the counter. “And um,”
“Some vodka. And my eternal gratitude. The halls are pretty scary right now.”
“This entire place is scary,” Diar agreed. “All right, step back, me laddos, and let me see what I can do.” She pulled out a pie pan and started concocting.
“i don’t know how you can make anything out of that mess.”
“Well, and aren’t I a daughter of the crisis, the same as you’re children of it? If I couldn’t make a full meal from spit and beans, I wouldn’t have lasted very long.”
“You lived with your parents, I know you did,” Tony complained.
“And do I ruin your stories? Step back, let me work.” She wrinkled her nose at the pile of ingredients and began combining them, watching them double and double again, watching the edges of a real recipe fill themselves in. “And in twenty minutes, we’ll have a right tasty shepherd’s pie, and you keep your sheep nuts over there, thank you,” she scolded a newly-Changed classmate. “There.” She tossed the whole thing into the oven.
“How do you do it?” Tony asked, staring in awe.
“Ah, well, that’s an art and a secret,” she smirked, “the fine gift of the leftovers.”
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