Jake bakes a cake

Like I been sayin', it's been cold.

So I went over to Nichols' house.  I feel like he owed to me.  And when I get there what do I find?  The key he gave me won't work. The lock must've been frozen or something.  No problem.  Part of combat is you learn to ADAPT.

I took my kabar and pried open the bedroom window.  It kinda messed up the storm window (This is Jon. It's shattered, Jake.  Shattered.)  but no real harm, no real foul, amIright?  Anyway, I made my way into the kitchen.  First order of business is ALWAYS survival.  So what does this guy keep around for chow?  A box of Cap'n Crunch, a box of Fruit Loops, and a jar of mustard.  Oh yeah, a can of Pam spray and a tin of Crisco (I just do not want to know what he uses that for.)  In the fridge was a bottle of milk that might still be good.  The freezer held a bag of Tater Tots the length of my manhood.

That's it.

This guy is NOT ready to survive.  But did you really expect anything else?

A little poking around later and I found a cake mix.  Devil's food.  Seemed like the only thing of real substance.  Only Nichols had no eggs and I just wasn't taking a chance on that milk.  The LAST thing you need in either urban or wilderness survival is food poisoning.  Not that I'm paranoid or nothin'.

So I mixed up the batter using just Crisco and Pam.  Stuck it in the oven to bake.  Only I didn't want to wait the whole half hour that the box instructed (NO ONE tells Jake Timber what to do!) so I cranked up the oven to right round 450 degrees.  Then I sat down to watch TV.

It was all mainstream media BS about the State of the Union address.  Presidential initiatives and other hot air.  Here's my proposed initiative: I'll challenge President Obama to a one-on-one game of basketball.  If I win, then he has to 1) cut his salary in half, donating the other half towards paying down the National Debt and 2) adopt at least ONE Republican initiative whether the Democrats want it or not.  Sounds FAIR, right?  If he wins, then I'll...oh come on.  He's NOT beating Jake Timber.  No one is.

Then there were a whole mess of ads about the Super Bowl.  Like I fucking care.  My Green Bay Packers aren't in it.  That's just another sign of the Obama conspiracy right there.

Wait.  Then I smelled it.  Smoke.  Where there's smoke, there's fire.  I learned that in the Battle of Milwaukee.

I checked the oven and yeah, there was a little fire going on. Looked like it might've done something to the gas line, too.  So I call Nichols on my scrambled sat phone and he treats me like I've committed a crime or something.  The wuss.  Got the fire department involved.  The cops too, but I was long gone at that point.

Their not taking Jake Timber alive.

No one is.


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