A real snack, worthy of Lambdadelta

Reader, know that I'm here to court Lambdadelta, truly, for as long as it takes to win her heart. When I promised her that snack, I wasn't just lying out of the side of my mouth. I meant what I said: I'll provide her a snack, something unlike she's ever experienced before or even conceived of. I told her to give me just a few years... I'd study with the finest culinary magicians and return to her with a snack that would not only prove she made the right decision releasing me, but would also win her heart.

"Go for it!" That was her lackadaisical reply. I just told her I was going to spend years baking for her and this is what I get? Hm...

No matter. Now begins my miracle montage. First, I went to Ronove, Beatrice's butler, with figurative hat in hand. I had to know how he made those wonderful cookies, that all demons and witches alike praise so highly. With a laugh and a genial smile on his mustached face, he agreed to teach me, with one condition: I needed to write him into my story too. Ah... that butler, who likes strapping young men, is probably annoyed that I haven't sought him out for one of my conquests so far.

One more little lie won't hurt. I told him I would.

Over the course of years... countless years... I became a master confectioner. I learned to make cookies, cupcakes, strudels, croissants, danishes, scones, you name it. If you'd see it in the breakfast section of the airport's dining options, a sweet masquerading as a healthy breakfast, I made it. I'd become a true Englishman, in addition to an American.

My work wasn't over. There was only so much I could learn from Ronove, after all. I needed to hone my craft. I went from fragment to fragment, serving the fine Rokkenjima inhabitants glorious treats that they never could have imagined, collecting their feedback, honing my recipes. I became Godha's mortal enemy, a second five-star chef in the kitchen who knew only of the finest, out-of-this-world gourmet. I swore off women- well, with one exception. I lived only for the art of snack-craft.

Greetings, I am H.I. Player. And I love the sweets in this story more than anyone.

Finally, I had it. The cookie to end all cookies. I piled them onto a tray in an arrangement that's difficult to even explain in a way you human readers will understand. I don't believe you could envision it. Know that it was an arrangement befitting H.I. Player, five star chef of hell.

I journeyed back to Lambdadelta. I opened the tray and presented her the cookies, pouring some of Ronove's fine tea to go with them. Thank you, Ronove, for all you've given me. And goodbye. It's time for me to ascend to my place as Lambdadelta's personal chef and lover.

She took a bite.

"Eh, kinda dry. I'm sorta bummed out that you made them so dry."

I'd been running from those pancakes all my life. Still, they hung there, like a shoe waiting to drop. The whole batch of them smashed me at once; I truly became a pancake, as the lady had referred to me all along.

...

As the room went quiet, Lambda nodded solemnly, talking only to herself. "Your cookies weren't bad, Player... A lot better than your smut anyway." She noticed the tea sitting on the counter. "Oh crap! He brought tea after all? Aaaah! I gotta try it with those cookies!"

Perhaps she cherished those cookies after all. Being the only one to taste them would make them that much sweeter.

She'd better enjoy them, because this is the last time she'll meet H.I. Player as the five-star underworld chef.