THEM 'Ishman'

Chaos Chefs

It was a sunny Saturday morning, and Ishan practically kicked down the door to Shubman's apartment, his energy off the charts. 

"Shubman! We're having a bake-off!" he declared, throwing his hands in the air like a game show host revealing a new car.

Shubman, mid-way through crushing a game on his console, didn't even flinch. 

He raised an eyebrow, giving Ishan the same look you'd give a toddler holding a permanent marker near your new white couch. "A bake-off? Us? Together? You do remember that last time we tried to bake, the smoke detector screamed at us like we owed it money?"

"Pfft, details!" Ishan waved him off like he was shooing away bad vibes. "This time is different. We've got a recipe! And flour! And—wait for it—a plan!"

Shubman's face turned into that of a man on trial for a crime he didn't commit. "Let me guess, Pinterest?" he said, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Pinterest never fails me!" Ishan said with a grin wide enough to see from space. "Chaos is just a part of the recipe!"

Shubman sighed deeply, like a man whose weekend plans of lounging on the couch in peace had just been stolen from him. 

But Ishan's enthusiasm was like a steamroller of joy—impossible to stop. 

Five minutes of begging, three minutes of bargaining, and one dramatic eye-roll later, Shubman caved. "Fine, fine! Let's burn your kitchen to the ground, shall we?"

The next scene saw them at the grocery store, arguing like two grannies in the produce aisle. 

"Do we seriously need five jars of sprinkles, Ishan?" Shubman asked, peering into the cart that looked like a rainbow had exploded in it.

Ishan believed that any dessert could be improved with sprinkles. 

 (Me too, Ishan bro)

"YES!" Ishan said, scandalized by the mere suggestion of less. 

"Sprinkles are like the glitter of the baking world—you can never have too many!" 

He then zoomed down the aisle with the shopping cart like he was auditioning for 'Fast & Furious: Grocery Drift.'

Back at Shubman's apartment, the chaos truly began. 

Ishan laid out the ingredients like he was hosting a mad scientist convention, rubbing his hands together. "Step one: mix the flour and sugar." he said, shoving a bowl into Shubman's hands.

"Are we baking cookies or conducting a science experiment?" Shubman muttered, gripping the bowl like it was a live grenade.

"A bit of both, actually." Ishan said with a wink, throwing flour into the bowl with the precision of a toddler finger-painting.

As they got elbow-deep in flour, Shubman decided to turn on the dramatic flair. 

"Welcome back to 'Baking with Disaster!' where we mix chaos, laughter, and ingredients we probably don't even need!" he announced in his best TV-host voice like he was presenting on national television.

"Exactly! For our first contestant, we have Shubman, who's currently losing a battle with a bag of flour!" Ishan cracked up, and in one smooth motion, flung a fistful of flour directly into Shubman's face.

Shubman sputtered, now looking like a ghost of his former self, and retaliated by splashing water from the bowl, but his aim was so terrible he managed to water the kitchen floor instead of Ishan. 

"You call that a splash?" Shubman laughed. "Let me show you how a REAL chef handles disaster!" And with that, he launched a wave of batter straight at Ishan, hitting him square in the chest.

Ishan looked down at himself, now a walking doughball, and nodded appreciatively. 

"Nice aim, Picasso!" he said, trying to dust himself off and only making it worse.

"Less talking, more baking!" Shubman declared, dramatically pretending to stir the bowl like he was conjuring a spell. 

But even that ended in chaos when they realized they were mixing with a wooden spoon that was closer to a weapon of mass destruction than a baking tool.

"Okay, okay..." Ishan said, gasping for breath between laughs. "We need to get this disaster into the oven before it starts staging a rebellion."

When they finally shoved the baking tray into the oven, they stood back as if they'd just defused a bomb. "Do you think they're rising?" Shubman asked, eyes glued to the oven window.

"If they're rising like my hopes of you being a decent baker, then no." Ishan shot back, smirking. "More like a flat tire."

"Hey, I'm better than decent!" Shubman said, puffing out his chest like a rooster, only to have a dollop of dough plop off his forehead.

Finally, the timer beeped, and they cautiously opened the oven door, bracing themselves for whatever horror awaited them. 

What came out was less of a cookie tray and more of a cookie Everest, oozing and bubbling like it was trying to escape the pan and flee the country.

"Uhhhhh...." Shubman said, blinking rapidly. "Did our cookies just reach puberty?"

"Let's call it a 'cookie explosion'!" Ishan announced, unable to hold back his cackle. "I'm sure Food Network would hire us in a heartbeat!"

"Or ban us for life!" Shubman said, shaking his head in disbelief.

With Herculean effort, they pried the mutant cookies off the tray, which had now fused into one giant monstrosity. 

"Well, I'd say these are... artisanal?" Ishan said, holding up a misshapen cookie like he'd just discovered a new species.

"Cheers to our 'culinary masterpiece!'" Shubman said, raising a piece of the cookie like a toast, then they both took a bite.

There was a moment of silence as they chewed, eyes widening like they'd just witnessed the apocalypse in flavor form. 

"Why does this taste like disappointment dipped in regret?" Shubman asked, looking like he might never trust a dessert again.

"I'd say more like 'charred ambition.'" Ishan replied, his face scrunching up as he swallowed the questionable lump.

They both burst into hysterics, collapsing onto the floor in a heap of flour-covered laughter.

 "Okay, new plan!" Shubman said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Next time, we're buying cookies from the store and sprinkling them ourselves. No one needs to know our dirty little secret."

"Deal!" Ishan said, still giggling, his heart warm despite the culinary disaster. "But admit it, Shubman. You had fun."

Shubman rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get used to it. Next time, I'll beat you at this bake-off without burning down the kitchen."

Ishan's grin only widened. "Deal. But you'll never beat me when it comes to sprinkles!"

And as they sat there in the midst of their baking battlefield, the kitchen a mess and their cookies a failure, they realized this was the best kind of victory—a laugh-filled, chaotic day with each other, making memories one burnt batch at a time.

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