“Shawn, we’re not supposed to be here,” Gus warned, looking around the kitchen nervously as Shawn began to pull assorted pots, pans and bowls out of cabinet drawers.
“Don’t be a wet lasagna noodle, Gus,” Shawn chided lightly, waving off his friend’s protests. “My dad won’t be home for hours. Besides, he won’t mind.”
Gus’ eyes narrowed skeptically. “He doesn’t even let you use his hammer without asking,” he pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s not going to be happy if he finds out we used his kitchen to make fries.”
“But these aren’t just any fries!” Shawn protested, digging into the brown paper bag he had brought. He pulled out several potatoes, lining them up neatly on the counter. “These are the best fries in the whole world! They’re calling me, Gus! How can I resist their sweet, cheesy siren song?”
Gus rolled his eyes, but his arms dropped by his sides again as Shawn pulled out four bricks of cheese and laid them next to the potatoes. “Dude,” he snorted. “Do you even know how to infuse potatoes?”
“Of course!” Shawn assured him breezily, pulling another item out of the bag and placing it on the counter. It was a single fry stuffed with four different cheeses. The smell wafted through the air, making Gus’ mouth water as Shawn squinted at it.
“We just start with this,” Shawn told him, indicating one of the plain, raw potatoes. “And we end with this!” he concluded with a flourish, pointing at the finished fry. “We just have to figure out the steps in-between! It’ll be easy!”
Gus groaned.
Somehow, he suspected this was not going to be that easy at all.
“Okay,” he sighed, too addicted to their sweet siren song himself to not play along. “Where do we start?”
“I don’t know,” Shawn murmured thoughtfully. “I think we need a straw.”
“A…straw?” Gus repeated, raising a dubious eyebrow at his friend. “Why would we need a straw?”
“Well, we have to get the cheese in there somehow!” Shawn explained, rolling his eyes as if it was obvious.
“Uh, Shawn…I don’t think--”
But it was too late to talk sense into Shawn. He had already reached into the bag and pulled out a straw, which he deftly jammed into one of the potatoes.
“There!” he declared, proudly surveying his work, then scratched his head as he looked over at the blocks of cheese. “Now, how do we get the cheese into the straw…?”
“I guess we melt it and pour it in,” Gus muttered sarcastically.
“Gus!” Shawn beamed, already turning the stove on and placing a pot on top of it. “You’re a genius!”
Gus’ eyes grew wide as Shawn dropped all four blocks of cheese into the pot and turned the heat up even more. “Shawn! I was joking! You can’t--”
“Of course we can’t,” Shawn waved him off, digging around in drawer. “We need to chop the potatoes first and make straw holes for the cheese! Where’s that knife…?”
“Shawn, you can’t just--”
“Never mind,” Shawn shrugged, cutting him off. “I can’t find a knife. I’ll just grab my dad’s saw.”
He crossed the kitchen and reached under the sink, where he knew his dad kept his toolbox. He grinned as he found the saw, bringing it back to Gus.
“There we go!”
“You’re going to saw the potatoes?”
“What? Like you have a better idea?” Shawn snorted, sawing into the first one.
“Shawn! You can’t— ” Gus started to shout, then stopped himself, groaning in defeat as he realized his friend couldn’t be stopped now. “Never mind. Go ahead. Do you know where your dad keeps the band aids and rubbing alcohol?”
“Very funny,” Shawn muttered, struggling to maneuver the saw blade through the potatoes. "We’re going to need spices for the potatoes.”
“Garlic, rosemary, thyme and marjoram,” Gus told him immediately, sniffing the air around the finished fry.
“Really?” Shawn looked up. “Are you sure?”
“Shawn, please,” Gus snorted, tapping his nose.
“Okay, okay,” Shawn rolled his eyes, finally slicing the last potato. “The Super Smeller strikes again. I doubt my dad has any of those around, though.”
“Oh, yeah?” Gus raised an eyebrow at the challenge. “Wanna bet?”
He began to sniff loudly as he walked through the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets, searching for the spices.
“Gus, I’m telling you! My dad doesn’t own spices! He’s an ex-cop! Ex-cops don’t--”
“Then what’s this?” Gus demanded, grinning broadly as he threw open a cabinet door, revealing shelves of spices.
Shawn’s eyes grew wide in horror. “Oh. My. God. It’s like he slaughtered an herb garden!”
“Don’t question the Super Smeller, Shawn,” Gus beamed proudly, tossing his friend the required spices.
Shawn caught them, rolling his eyes as he looked down at the jaggedly-cut pile of butchered potato bits sitting in front of him. “I guess…we just dump them on?” he shrugged, popping the top off the rosemary and starting to pour.
“Shawn! You’re making a mess!” Gus chided, coming back over to him and reaching for the canister. “Let me do it.”
“I can do it, Gus!” Shawn protested, not letting go.
“Shawn!” Gus grunted, latching onto it and tugging as hard he could in the other direction. “I’m not joking! Let go! You’re going to over-spice!”
“I am not!”
“I will punch you in the trachea!”
With one last gigantic tug, Gus managed to wrench the spice free from Shawn’s hand. He wasn’t expecting it to come loose, however, so he stumbled back, letting it fly out of his grasp. It soared through the air, striking the floor, sending rosemary scattering all over the immaculate kitchen.
“Look what you did!” Gus shouted, pointing at the mess.
“It’s not my fault you’re a selfish spicer!” Shawn shot back.
“I’ll show you selfish spicing!” Gus snarled, tackling Shawn to the floor, punching him in the arm.
Shawn tried to fight back, but Gus had the upper-hand until he suddenly stopped mid-punch, sniffing the air again.
“What’s burning?” he asked.
“The cheese!” Shawn exclaimed, pushing Gus off him as he jumped up and rushed back to the stove, where the pot was smoking now, caked with black, burnt-on cheese.
He quickly pulled it off the burner, dropping it into the sink and turning the water on full-blast. The room was instantly filled with black smoke.
“What the hell is going on in here?” a voice from behind them suddenly shouted.
Shawn and Gus both spun around. Henry had just walked in the back door, his face red with rage as he surveyed his destroyed kitchen.
“Uh…” Shawn cleared his throat. “Gus wanted to make fries, but I told him not to!”
Gus punched him again. “It was your idea, Shawn! I told you your dad wouldn’t like it!”
Henry didn’t even hear them. He took a step into the kitchen, too angry to even find the words to yell.
“What the hell is all over my pot?” he shouted finally, spotting the pot in the sink.
“Uh…cheese.” Shawn mumbled.
“Why were you burning cheese in my kitchen?”
“We were…infusing potatoes,” Shawn explained quickly, as if that excused everything. “You can’t infuse potatoes with cheese that hasn’t been melted, Dad! Don’t you know anything about cooking?”
“I know enough not to burn cheese onto a pot!” Henry shouted. “And why the hell is there marjoram all over my floor?”
“Actually,” Gus corrected him foolishly. “That’s rosemary.”
Henry glared at him, daring him to challenge his herb knowledge again.
Gus cleared his throat. “But that’s easily mistaken for marjoram,” he said quickly. “Same herb family…”
“Seriously, Dad!” Shawn stepped in, tossing Henry the single finished fry off the counter. “These aren’t just fries! These are the best fries ever! We were totally going to share with you!”
Henry rolled his eyes, but reluctantly took a bite.
Shawn grinned, nodding eagerly. “See? I told you.”
Henry scowled, pushing past Shawn and Gus as he finished it off and reached for the pile of mangled potatoes and dumped them into the trash can. “For God’s sake, Shawn. If you’re going to try to make those things, do it right. There’s a sack of potatoes in the pantry. Get it out and cut them up right. Gus, find more cheese.”
“Right,” Gus nodded, scurrying away as Henry reached into a drawer and pulled out a knife.
“And, Shawn,” Henry added over his shoulder as Shawn went to the pantry to find the potatoes.
“Huh?” Shawn asked, turning around again.
“After we make these fries, you’re cleaning my entire house.”