Me: I’m going to make a pie. The baby’s asleep, I should have time.
GM: Really? My eyebrow is arched, suggesting that I don’t believe in the factual nature of that statement. Roll it.
A die clatters.
Me: Ouch, that’s… No, wait, store bought pie crust. That’s a 9.
GM: Well, it’s not a total failure. You forget to thaw the crust in time, so that gives you fits. The filling is, in a word, bland. Maybe the wrong kind of apple? Not enough spices? It comes out alright, but it’s not very inspiring. Your son asks for a piece for a treat, then eats, oh, two bites and decides he’s done. Doesn’t ever ask for it again.
Me: What if I try the “but I worked so hard to make that just for you” bit?
GM: Don’t even bother rolling, that approach had never worked.
Me: Alright, chili cook-off time. I’ve got a recipe that’s won for me before, that’s worth an extra +1. Can I take ten on it?
GM: Not likely, the baby’s awake for most of the prep time. And he’s whiny.
Me: Arrgh. Ok.
A die rolls.
GM: That’s with the modifiers?
GM: Including the recipe?
Me: Including the recipe. I probably don’t add all the spices that I did last time, since little kids may eat it this time.
A sheet of paper is consulted.
GM: Well, we’re not to the cook-off yet, but it’ll probably end up being too spicy for small children anyway. It was a bad roll.
Me: Whatever. I pack the chili into a container and stick it in the fridge.
GM: You’ve got one big container, but you’ll have to stick it in the basement, or you can pack it in two smaller ones and try to fit it in up here.
Me: This is what we’re doing? Uh… geez. Two. It’s midnight. I’ve been up and down the stairs several times now. I’m done.
GM: The fridge is awfully hard to fit anything else into. That pie is taking up a lot of space.
Me: This is the last time I let you sucker me into a dessert making quest. Pie out, chili in. I’ll eat some and put the rest in a smaller container. Jerk.
GM: It’s very awkward, two containers of chili, and one big dish of pie. I think I need you to roll for that.
The die shows no mercy.
GM: You fumble something.
Me: Not the chili. Not the chili.
GM: It’s the chili.
Me: Not the full container. The one that’s half full.
GM: It’s the full container. And… yes, some spills out.
Me: Forget this. I’m going to bed.