Work Text:
Edgar Allan Poe sat at his desk in deep concentration. Staring down at his half written page, he let out a heavy sigh and set down his pen. He leaned back in his chair, the cushions flattening under his weight. This was going to be a long night.
Poe looked down to see Karl curled up on his feet. They were softly snoring. He slowly picked the sleeping raccoon, trying to not wake them up, and stood up before placing them on his chair. He watched Karl for a few seconds more to confirm they were still sleeping. They were.
Poe slipped out of his office and into the kitchen. He was hungry, but what did he want?
A pale cooking book sitting on the edge of the counter caught his attention and he walked over to it. Opening it up, there are many different Italian recipes. Strange, Poe didn't remember trying to cook Italian. That doesn't matter, Poe thought. He skimmed the book. Baked ziti with sausage, cacio e pepe lasagna, Tuscan fish stew...None of the foods seemed appealing to him. That wasn't until he saw the spaghetti carbonara recipe, the recipe piqued his interest with a single glance.
He looked at the ingredients list. Good, he had everything that was needed to make it. After setting all the ingredients out, he next set out the needed tools.
According to the instructions, he needed to boil the water first. He turned on the oven, possibly a bit too high. The fact that he could feel the heat emitting from the oven from a mile away was more than concerning. He quickly turned it down.
When Poe turned around and almost fainted in shock.
"G-goodness Karl! You scared me to death."
Karl was sitting on the counter next to the sink, watching whatever Poe was doing with as much curiosity as a raccoon can show. They let out an excited grunt.
Poe swallowed the shock and placed a mug under the faucet to fill it up.
Apparently, Karl did not approve of this and slapped the mug causing it to fall over.
"Karl! Why did you do that?"
The raccoon responded with a chirp of sorts. Poe was almost sure he could see them grinning.
With that, Poe picked the mug back up and filled it with cold water. He poured the liquid into a pot that was set on the stove. It sizzled when it came in contact with the pot. Was it supposed to do that?
Whatever.
Now all he had to do was wait for it to start boiling.
-
After a few minutes of scolding Karl to keep his paws out of the heated water, the water was finally boiling!
Without wasting a single second, Poe sprinkled some salt into the mixture before dropping the stiff noodles in as well. He stirred for a bit until the noodles were firm. Good enough.
Next, he turned to his bowl with two round eggs laying in the center just begging to be cracked open. Before Poe had a chance to pick up one, a blur of fur hurled past his face and took the bowl along. Edgar, dismayed, shook his head and looked at the furry attacker who now was sprawled out on the floor. Unsurprisingly, it was Karl. He let a sigh and picked the bowl from the raccoon's grasp and placed it back on the counter. Two cracked eggs cracked open and spilling out their contents sat beside the raccoon's head.
At this point, Poe was pretty sure he would never finish cooking.
Unbeknownst to him, this was just the start.
-
It had been an hour now of Poe struggling to cook simple noodles due to a mischievous striped critter. He had gone through all of his eggs and at some point had to buy more. Two. whole. cartons. Poe was sure he was going to go mad. Wouldn't fate just let him have some carbonara?
Apparently not.
-
The kitchen was a wreck of broken eggs, spilled water, and dirtied utensils. In the middle of the mess of course, was Edgar Allan Poe and his friend Karl.
The poor man looked like he had witnessed the same commercial on repeat for five hours.
Bright side was there was a steaming hot plate of carbonara on top of cracked eggshells and splattered egg yolk. Though Poe acted as if the hot plate did not even exist. He let out a loud sigh before grabbing the clinging raccoon from his head and placing them on the counter.
"Do. Not. Eat. My. Carbonara. Karl."
A firm glare at the critter was all that was needed to make them nod, though the nod did not seem authentic. Well, a nod is a nod, Edgar thought.
That plate of carbonara later then disappeared "mysteriously" a couple minutes later.