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Strong Bad’s relationship with Marzipan was… “unconventional” was the word Strong Sad had used. That could have meant anything, but it felt like the closest adjective. Strong Bad himself used more of a noncommittal grunt with a vague shrug/wave when asked.
Strong Bad didn't hate Marzipan, not really. He disliked her, he might even say a little repulsed by her. But, there wasn't any particular hostility between them, just a mutual disgust. He could live with that.
What made it unconventional was that, even though they both made it clear to everyone they didn't like each other, Strong Bad still ended up at Marzipan’s house once every few weeks.
It had all started when Marzipan had found out, no doubt through Strong Sad, that Strong Bad had been attempting baking in his spare time. The keyword was “attempting”. Baking wasn't exactly Strong Bad’s style, but after he had dug his mom’s old recipe box out from a cabinet it took him back to when she used to be around. Back when The Brothers Strong were eating well-rounded meals and not takeout or pizza most days because cooking was too much effort. The recipe box almost made Strong Bad remember the last time he’d seen a vegetable. Like most moms, The Mother Strong liked to bake things, and was pretty skilled at it. Clearly, none of her skill had been passed down to any of her sons, least of all Strong Bad. Still, Strong Bad wasn't a quitter.
When Marzipan found out, she seemed strangely interested in his bake-scapades. Basically, one thing lead to another and now every so often they’d put aside their differences to bake things together. Strong Bad never wanted to admit it, but he did look forward to those days.
The first day he had gone over to Marzipan’s, it was a huge blow to his pride. He never expected to be here and not vandalize something. No, he just showed up, knocked, and rocked awkwardly back and forth on his toes until she answered. She greeted him briskly and he followed her inside.
Her house was a bit too clean and didn't smell at all like old soda or have a layer of The Cheat hair on everything. Her decorating style was also uncomfortably minimalist and empty, at least for Strong Bad. The place didn't feel lived in to him. They didn’t say a lot to each other as they set up. Marzipan didn't seem annoyed with him or anything but not exactly thrilled about it either. That was fair, Strong Bad felt the same.
“What recipe did you bring again?” Marzipan asked, startling Strong Bad.
“Uh...pumpkin pie.”
“Oh, that’s right. Follow me,” Marzipan said, stepping out into her backyard. Strong Bad followed her out and to her garden where a small pumpkin patch sat. Strong Bad had swiped pumpkins from here to throw at Homestar before, and he felt awkward again for being on Marzipan’s property with her permission. Marzipan had fetched pruners and went to pick a pumpkin.
“O-oh, you don't have to do that,” Strong Bad interrupted. “I brought some of the canned filling with me if-”
Marzipan shook her head. “Too many preservatives. Anyway, nothing like the real thing.”
Strong Bad shrugged and followed Marzipan back inside when she snipped the pumpkin. Something told him he should carry it for her, but it was her garden and she could carry her own dang pumpkins. Yes, that was the reason and not because he was afraid he might chuck it across the yard from force of habit.
With the pumpkin on a table on top of newspaper, Marzipan went off to start mixing the crust. “Could you gut the pumpkin?” she asked over her shoulder.
Strong Bad stared at the large vegetable. He raised both hands over his head and came inches above smashing the pumpkin before Marzipan screeched at him to stop. They both froze, staring frazzled at each other. Marzipan straightened herself and got a large chopping knife from the counter. “Have a little decency, please?”
Strong Bad slowly put his arms down and took the knife even more slowly. “Carve a hole around the stem and pull out the insides onto the paper,” Marzipan said in a patronizing tone.
Strong Bad, trying to ignore her tone, stabbed the pumpkin and started roughly cutting until Marzipan scolded him again and told him to be gentler. He didn't know why he was putting up with this, but he didn't exactly want to go through the usual “get out of my house!” type deals again.
“We could’ve just used the canned stuff,” Strong Bad said. “It’s faster.”
Marzipan waved the recipe card around. “You’re mother didn’t use it.”
Strong Bad’s cutting briefly stopped, then started again. He pulled the stem up and pulled a gob of pumpkin guts out. “Whatever.”
They worked in silence for a while. Strong Bad wished he could have just smashed the pumpkin. Scooping the seeds out like this was tedious and he momentarily considered just throwing it. The silence was broken when Marzipan made a surprised noise. Strong Bad looked up from his work. “What?”
“Oh,” Marzipan turned to him. “You’re mom added banana instead of eggs to the recipe. I’ve never thought to try that before!”
Strong Bad shrugged again and went back to his pumpkin. “Yeah, she did that a lot.” “Well, I think that’s a great idea,” Marzipan replied, picking a couple bananas from the counter. The silence went on again before Marzipan asked: “What’s you’re mother like, Strong Bad?”
Splat!
Strong Bad had suddenly flung his handful of pumpkin guts straight up at the ceiling. It dripped back down onto the floor, echoing in yet another awkward silence.
“Oh, uh…” Strong Bad stammered. “I’ll-I’ll get that.” He sprung for a paper towel. Strangely, Marzipan didn’t seem mad, she just handed him the paper towels with an odd look on her face. When Strong Bad had gotten the mess up, he glanced at the pumpkin. “It’s empty now.”
Marzipan nodded and helped Strong Bad gather the guts into a bowl. Marzipan started mashing the guts herself while Strong Bad threw out the empty pumpkin.
“Strong Bad, I’m sorry,” Marzipan said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have pried.”
Strong Bad didn’t think he would ever feel this awkward again. Marzipan apologizing to him was almost to weird for him to handle. “Don’t worry about it,” He said. Marzipan just nodded and slid him the partially-mixed bowl of pie crust she had been working on. The rest of the prep went without a hitch and Strong Bad was able to shake off the awkwardness by dissociating into his work. He didn’t want to admit it, especially around Marzipan, but baking was strangely cathartic for him. He could never figure out why, especially when he sucked at it. It was something he could just do without thinking to hard. But, with Marzipan, he felt like he was under a spotlight. Alone and in his own house, he could make as much of a mess as he wanted and could do everything his way. Marzipan, though, insisted on a clean process and clearly didn’t trust him with any of the baking by himself. With every move he made he could feel her eyes on him, making sure he didn’t mess something up. It was beginning to bring back some long-forgotten uncomfortable memories he didn’t feel like addressing. He shoved it away and focused on kneading.
After a few more minutes of quiet work, the pie was baking in the oven and Strong Bad found himself without a distraction. Thankfully, Marzipan went to work on washing the dishes and Strong Bad quickly fell into drying. This time, he couldn’t lose himself in his work. The whole scene was uncomfortably familiar: standing next to Marzipan as she handed him dishes to dry. It was late afternoon now and the sun streaked in through the kitchen window, creating a warm orange haze. Her kitchen, like the rest of her house, was practically spotless. For some reason, it made Strong Bad feel dirty in comparison. He didn’t belong in this house, he didn’t belong this kitchen dutifully helping Marzipan clean up. All of this felt so out of place, and his sense of deja vu was only getting worse. If he were here any longer he knew he was going to ruin this pristine house with his presence. Marzipan was waiting for him to mess up again, and he knew he would.
“Strong Bad?” Marzipan broke through his thoughts and he jerked his head up to look at her. He shook himself and took the mixing bowl she was holding out to him. He looked away and started drying it, but Marzipan didn’t go back to her washing.
“Are you okay?”
Strong Bad didn’t answer, hoping she would just ignore him, but of course she didn’t. He had to change the subject and fast.
“What’s your mom like?” He asked before he could stop himself. Oh, now he’d done it.
Marzipan went back to her dishes. “Like any other mother, I guess. Always kept us in line, knew how to run a tight ship.”
Strong Bad, took another quick look around. He guessed the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. “You keep this place clean like she might pop at any minute or something.”
Marzipan shrugged. “It’s a habit. Mother’s very particular about how to keep a house, and she wasn’t about to let my house look like yours.”
Strong Bad knew that was a jab, but it was true. “I’m sure my mom wouldn’t want our house that way either, but after we were on our own I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen soap since.” “Strong Sad’s mentioned that before,” Marzipan laughed. “He’s the only one of you who bothers anymore, he says.”
Strong Bad scoffed. “Well, he was always the favorite. He acts like her not-quite ghost is breathing down his neck making sure he doesn’t fail her like Strong Mad and I have.” “Does she check up on you three or something?” Marzipan handed him a clean spatula.
Strong Bad shook his head. “Nah, not anymore. Pretty sure she just gave up on us altogether after a bit. Haven’t seen her in a while.” He chuckled a bit. “By now she’s probably gotten rich of the “How To Raise Your Troubled Child” books she’s probably written and is somewhere far away now.”
Marzipan offered an awkward laugh and didn’t pry any further. Strong Bad started to not mind the silence so much anymore. It let him imagine he was literally anywhere else, but his imagination took him back to his deja vu. It created a strange warm pit in his stomach that felt uncomfortable and relaxing at the same time. He decided to live in the moment for now.
Ding!
They set the table in silence and Marzipan brought out the freshly baked pie. Strong Bad decided not to fixate anymore on how extremely out-of-place this whole scene was. He has long since passed feeling awkward and was now just living with it. After all, it couldn't possibly get anymore uncomfortable and soul-bearing, right?
Marzipan cut a slice of the pie and handed a plate of it to Strong Bad before cutting a slice for herself.
“Well, I think it looks great Strong Bad,” she said, pouring two glasses of water. “Can’t wait to try your mother’s recipe!”
Strong Bad’s jaw was weirdly clamped shut, but he nodded and took his glass. Marzipan raised her glass. “To to your mother!”
Strong Bad awkwardly raised his glass to clink with hers.
“Uh, yeah.” Strong Bad felt like he’d never be hungry ever again, especially for pie.
Marzipan was watching him intently.
Strong Bad gave her a look. “What?”
“It's your mother’s recipe, you should try it first,” Marzipan replied.
Strong Bad stared at his slice and waited a long time to pick up his fork. Under the very unwelcome gaze of Marzipan, he took a bite.
And then the dam burst and it hit Strong Bad with a tidal wave of realization. This, all of this, was painfully familiar. He wasn't in Marzipan’s kitchen anymore, and the person staring at him wasn't Marzipan. The gaze that bore into him, peeling his every action apart bit by bit, criticized his every move, it made him feel like he was made of wood. His stomach lurched, but he knew what would happen if he vomited pie up onto the floor, and he didn't want that. He wouldn't dare make a mess, not in Her house.
She logged everything he did in Her calculating mind, ready to use as weapons against him in the near future, and Her arsenal was already chock full. She was a springtrap, heaven knows when She could go off.
But that wasn't Her.
This wasn't Her house. It was her house. But she still stared at him just like Her.
Strong Bad swallowed and stood up, slamming his hands on the table.
“YOU'RE NOT MY MOM!”
Marzipan had taken a few paces back. She wasn't afraid, just shocked and...and concerned? Maybe?
Strong Bad’s fist clenched and unclenched. He was standing on his chair now, slowly coming back to reality. He felt that overwhelming sense of being out of place again. He felt like a weed in a flower garden. He’d destroy everything he’d touch here. Everything was so delicate and he was a whirlwind of havoc. He wasn't supposed to be here. He didn't belong here. But, he wasn't destroying anything. Everything was still as it had been, and he was quickly feeling the frenzied electricity in his body leave him. His throat felt squeezed shut, even though things were raging to get out. His chest felt heavy and his body was trembling.
Marzipan was approaching him, slowly like he was a wild animal. She was going to scream at him, kick him out of her house, never speak to him again, he knew it. Three strikes and he was out.
But, the concern in her eyes didn’t go away. She got close enough to touch him, and he stood absolutely still, waiting. She took a bit of her dress and wiped his cheek. Well, that wasn't gonna do any good, considering his eyes were full of tears now. He didn't expect the gentleness. He almost wanted her to smack him, at least then it would be familiar.
He couldn't even see anymore, his vision was bleary with hot tears. He folded his arms and looked away, but he couldn't stop breathing hard and unevenly. He wasn't going to do this. He wasn't going to cry…
more than he already was.
But, then Marzipan pulled him close, bringing his face to her shoulder. Oh, now here came the sobbing. Strong Bad couldn’t stop what was already in motion. It felt good and mortifying at the same time and he clung to Marzipan for dear life, heaving sobs into her dress. He felt like he could snap her in half by how gentle she was being, but he knew better. She was way stronger than he was. He didn't have to worry about breaking her. He destroyed everything he touched, but Marzipan was unbreakable.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Strong Bad.”