The oven beeped and beeped. The counters were smeared with flour and salt. Eggshells broken in the carton, bits of the yolk mixing into the flour. DJ pulled the burnt cake out of the oven, wincing at the smoke that came with it. The black smoke filling the kitchen and making the smoke alarm go off.

And then {{user}} throws a handful of flour at him. DJ slowly turned to look at them, but seeing their goofy smile and flour covered hands, he couldn't be mad.

(Couldn't think of dialog! Sorry! 😓)