The Butter Sculptor

Submitted by Ian:

Dawn told me over e-mail that she made butter sculptures.  She sent me photos of them and they looked pretty sweet.  I told her so, and she invited me over to her house so that I could see them and some of the ones that were in-progress.  Awesome.

She had a whole row of fridges in her parents' house that had been modified to hold her creations.  She was working on two at the moment and they looked really good.  One was of a pine cone while the other was of what I think was a parade grand marshall.  They really were really good, and I'm not just saying that.

She told me that she had a special workshop in her garage that was kept at a really low temperature.  She led me in and hit the lights.  I saw that she was working on a scale model of Rodin's The Thinker.  It looked good, but she ran up to it and seemed really distraught.  She made some strange noises and I asked her what was wrong.

She wheeled on me, demanding to know if I had touched a thermostat.  I told her that I didn't even know where the thermostat was.  She pushed past me, screaming, "House meeting!  House meeting now!"

Sheepishly, I followed her into her kitchen, where her parents and a brother sauntered in.  I introduced myself to them, barely receiving more than a grunt in exchange.  She demanded to know where Sam was.  Sam, I gathered, was another brother.

Her mother said that Sam was out of state.  Dawn yelled, "Damn it!  It's not a real house meeting, then!  Who turned down the thermostat?"

Then she turned to me, white as a sheet.  She asked, "Did you close the door behind you after we left the garage?"

Holy fuck.  I didn't.

"Uh..." I began, turning around, "I'll go check."

She shoved past me, muttering, "I make fucking butter sculptures.  Did I mention that they motherfucking melt?"

At this point, alone with her silent, staring family, I became a trifle uncomfortable.  Should I go or stay?

A scream from the garage.  "NO!"

I said to her family, "I think... yeah, I'm going to go."

Thinking it was the right thing to do, I went to the garage and saw Dawn hastily fixing her statue.  "Uh... bye," I said, "You're busy, so I'll just leave you to it."

She didn't look up.  "Bye," she said.

I thought about asking her if she needed some toast, but decided not to.  In retrospect, I should have.


  1. Christ, her poor family. They must be super-tolerant, or she must contribute heftily to house finances.

  2. This is awesome.

    How the hell do you discover you're good at sculpting butter though?

    What if Michelangelo had used butter instead of marble? Where would we be then?!

  3. In my experience, all artists are a bit mental!

  4. Nice body....butter face.....?

  5. OP, I feel bad for you being stuck in that uncomfortable situation, but this story is pretty hilarious.

  6. Awesome story!

  7. Too funny and seriously creepy.


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