“Short Snack Speed Baking”
(And Nearly Melted the Ice Rink)
It started with a perfectly respectable banner:
Short. Snack. Speed. Baking.
And once that interpretation locked in, there was, of course, no appeal process.
The following rules were established:
Short → For one day only. Gremlins are short. Short bread is short. Whatever.Snack → It must be edible. Obviously.Speed → It must be fast. Fast to eat, fast to make. Whatever.Baking → Obviously culinary. Involving Fire.
Within minutes, winter sport had been reclassified as a high-velocity pastry showdown.
They didn’t question it further. They had optimized it. This. Was. Happening.
Infrastructure was masterminded, planned and built in 17 Minutes.
The gremlins constructed:
A tiny circular track (because “track” sounded official) as the basis of their production line operation.
Six miniature ovens placed evenly around the rink
A central judging table (Which would later be stacked with cookies)
A massive countdown clock labeled:
“HEAT OR BE DEFEATED.”
The rules, declared loudly and without consensus:
Bake a snack.
Finish before it burns or gets eaten by an opponent.
Present to judges.
Mild shoving permitted as is thwacking those indulging in snack stealing shenanigans with the nearest cooking utensil.
The Whistle Blew.
A gremlin sprinted out of the gate, skidded into his station, and slammed a snowball-sized lump of cookie dough into a cold oven.
Another competitor attempted to bake while still skating. He completed half a lap before launching batter across three lanes and into a spectator’s scarf.
A third used a blowtorch “for efficiency.”
The smell in the air is a combination of sugar, frost and mild electrical panic.
One gremlin decided the fastest bake was no bake. He presented a frozen jalapeno cookie and announced: “It’s reverse baked. The heat happens later.” He demanded points for “thermal minimalism.”
The judges were unsure who had appointed them as judges and wondered who exactly to hand their resignations to.
Because speed must be optimized, Dennis, of course, attached bottle rockets to his skates. He achieved two full laps of the area in record time, ending with a dramatic spinout and a perfectly toasted brownie (via friction and panic)
The brownie scored highest of the day. This caused outrage.
Mid-event, a flour-covered Carl approached the judges’ table. “I would like to file a formal complaint regarding excessive clockwise bias.” When asked for clarification, he explained: “My cake rose unevenly due to rotational politics.” He requested the earth be re-spun counterclockwise for fairness.
The motion failed 3–0.
Things deteriorated quickly. Icing was weaponized. Muffins became defensive equipment/projectiles. Wayne attempted deep-frying in a thermos. A waffle iron was plugged into a snowbank. The ovens began melting the ice track. Ironically, this improved lap times however caused a number of mogwai balls to fly through the air spontaneously with each wave of moisture.
Over the loudspeaker, a human announcer finally shouted: “THIS IS SKATING. NOT BAKING.”
Silence fell.
A gremlin slowly removed a charred tray from an oven. whatever he had been baking having expired several minutes before removal in a cloud of acrid smoke. Another quietly unplugged something that should absolutely NOT have been plugged in. They looked at the rink. They looked at the melted crater where Lane Two used to be.
Then one whispered: “…What if it’s speed snacking?” Collective nodding. The baking stopped.
No medals were awarded. However:
One brownie achieved legendary status.
Three ovens survived.
The clockwise bias protest remains under “judicial review.”
Marshmallows float like life buoys.
At sunset, a small, flour-smudged sign appeared at center ice:
And if you’re wondering whether they’ve learned anything?
Clearly this is your first day reading this blog.
