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[bratworth]

Greetings, Exsilium. I am Miles Edgeworth and I have an announcement to make. In preparation for Thanksgiving, a silly American holiday where people gorge on turkey and celebrate historical inaccuracies by painting bald eagles with gravy, I have attempted to cook a simple but delicious mashed potatoes dish.

I have failed. It has been less than two hours since I stepped into the kitchen and I have already managed to soil my cravat, stain my vest and slightly singe my sleeves. It will take a lot of effort to rid the delicate embroideries on my vest with the potato bits that have gotten between the threads. It would take more effort to get rid of the stench of curdled milk, failure and shame that now permeates every corner of this kitchen.

I must now admit that I am not only a failure in the kitchen but also a failure as a man. I am a foolish fool who can not foolishly comprehend recipes so simple even a fool of the utmost foolishness can foolishly cook. I submit myself to your mockery, Exsilium. I deserve to be punished for my incompetence.

That is all.

[ Note: Franziska von Karma was here. Miles Edgeworth smells.

Franziska has hi-jacked her brother's communicator. She wrote this entire post. Expect tags from Franziska pretending to be Edgeworth, Edgeworth, and Franziska... probably. ]

Comments

[ text ]

[obfuskate]

[ :rolleyes: ]

Yes, of course. I should have known that Exsilium's downfall would derive from a bad batch of mashed potatoes.

[perfectionisms]

It's not unlikely. We have flying foxes and green people.

[obfuskate]

Yes, because they are obviously both on the same level of insanity, flying foxes and apocalyptic mashed potatoes.

[ sarcasm! over! the internet!!! ]

[perfectionisms]

And rabbits possibly being our last stand against an evil carrot army.

[ sadly, a semi-rare moment when she's not being sarcastic ]

[obfuskate]

...

I will say this much:

You are mildly creative.