Home Grown and Organic

Starsky and Hutch stake out a bakery, but as usual, Starsky can’t let a chance to try the suspicious product go by.

Written for the twenty minute fic challenge.

“You think Auntie Annie puts something in her muffins?” Starsky took a huge bite of the blueberry and chocolate chip muffin he’d just purchased from the bakery.

“You mean, besides processed sugar, fat, and white flour?” Hutch sniffed as if he were above eating such treats, but man, the smells coming from the place had his mouth watering. “Starsky, I’m not sure eating the evidence is such a good idea.” The adorable shop had red and pink striped curtains in the window, framing plates of muffins, cookies, and other baked goods.

“Hutch, this is a completely terrific,” Starsky chewed two more mouthfuls, swallowing with a blissful expression, “amazing muffin. Never had such a good one.” He sat on a bus stop bench to finish the muffin, watching Auntie Annie’s storefront across the street. “And the sign there says she uses raw cane sugar, no lard, and all organic ingredients.”

Hutch had missed that information in his zeal to pretend he wasn’t tempted. “But you are correct, the traffic in and out of this place is not what we’d normally see in a bakery.”

Two bikers, sporting armfuls of tattoos, leather jackets nowhere near wide enough to cover their beer bellies, and chains attached to their wallets walked in, followed by a whole group of Buddhist monks in orange cotton garments, and a trio of punk teens with safety pins in their ears and shocking pink and blue Mohawk hairdos.

This was not your average patisserie.

“The muffin contained blueberries and chocolate but no drugs—” Starsky suddenly stiffened, gagged, and went limp.

“Starsk!” Hutch jumped in horror, reaching for his partner’s neck to check for a pulse. What the hell had happened? Could he have choked? “Can you breathe?” he demanded, stroking Starsky’s carotid.

“Got you!” Starsky roared with laughter, stabbing a finger at his friend. “You’re so fixated on finding something wrong with the place, you can’t believe that Auntie Annie makes the best muffins around.”

“Except—” Hutch watched the bikers walk out carrying sacks. Five sacks. “How many muffins can two guys buy? Must be something going down.” Angry that Starsky had duped him so easily, Hutch dashed across the street. “You with the sacks, put down the drugs and your hands in the air.”

“What the fucking hell you talking about, bro?” The larger of the two bikers gaped at him. “These ain’t drugs!”

“Show him.”

Apparently, Starsky had decided to support his partner and marched over to snatch one of the sacks from the other guy. He peered inside, then placed it carefully on the long seat of the man’s chopper. “Hutch, they have pumpkin muffins.”

“And scones,” Hutch said, inspecting another bag. “Ginger scones, unless I miss my guess.”

“It’s my mom’s birthday,” Biker number one explained, gathering the muffins into his leather saddlebags. “She loves Auntie Annie’s. The whole BC Hell’s Angels club is coming over for tea.”

“My mistake,” Hutch apologized, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Have a great party.”

As they drove their motorcycles away, Starsky stared at his hand and giggled. “Hutch, I think I figgered out what Annie puts in her muffins. Probably grown in her own kitchen and organic, to boot.”

“And in the scones? The cookies?” Hutch asked. “A special ingredient?”

“You ever tried edible marijuana?” Starsky snickered, turning to kiss his partner. “It’s terrific.”

The end