The Texas Hot Fudge Brownies Hospitality Event - Part 1

As we have previously mentioned, there will be times when it seems necessary to pause and bring in a little historical understanding. Not the entire vault, mind you. No one needs every brown box opened at once. That would be unkind to the reader, irresponsible of Watson and I, and frankly dangerous if Gregory is anywhere near packing tape.

But occasionally, something may be mentioned in passing that deserves a proper account. A little context. A few crumbs from the trail, if you will. And today, I believe we owe it to you to share the actual history of what shall henceforth be known as: 

The Texas Hot Fudge Brownies Hospitality Event.

Because yes, there was a brownie pan. Yes, there was Blue Bell vanilla ice cream. Yes, Watson was involved. Yes, Gregory was present. And no, I am not entirely certain anyone recovered with dignity intact.

But before we go any further into future field notes, imagination, fantasy, music studios, g-nomes, or whatever else may be waiting just outside the study door, we should probably return to the scene of the crumbs.

Watson has the tea. Although this one may require something stronger. Black coffee, perhaps. Or espresso. Yes… definitely espresso. Two shots.

Gregory has been advised not to comment without legal representation. And I have the accounting of the event.

So let us begin.

___

Watson offered the tray stacked with tea biscuits to Selah. “Take as many as you like, Selah.”

Selah looked at the neatly staged biscuits, perfectly set upon a doily on a tray fit for a king, ”I’m sorry, Watson... but I do find English biscuits.... rather... dry... and not very sweet... So I thought I'd shift it around a bit. I brought in some gooey brownies from Texas... Hot with hot fudge and Blue Bell vanilla ice cream (shipped in dry ice) to London.” She peeked over at Watson hoping she hadn’t hurt his feeling by not choosing a biscuit off his tray. “I just figured London could use a little bit of Southern hospitality around now.“

Watson placed one hand to his chest. “Madam… you have brought hot fudge brownies with Blue Bell vanilla ice cream into a London study and called it Southern hospitality?”

He paused.

“Correct.”

Gregory had already abandoned all previous loyalties to biscuits. “I have always said London required intervention.”

Watson gave him a look. “You have never said that.”

“I am saying it now, with conviction.”

The study changed immediately.

The tea tray remained, of course — decorum may have left through the back door, but it still keeps a key. But beside it now sat a warm pan of Texas brownies, glossy with hot fudge, steam curling upward like a blessing. A small chilled crate marked DRY ICE — HANDLE WITH REVERENCE sat open nearby, revealing Blue Bell vanilla ice cream as if it had been escorted by angels and excellent logistics.

Watson picked up a spoon.

“This is not merely dessert,” he said. “This is diplomacy.”

Selah smiled.

Gregory, already holding a bowl too large for his body, nodded.

“International relations have improved dramatically.”

Watson took one bite.

Silence.

Then, very quietly:

“I withdraw several remarks I may have privately held about American excess.”

Gregory pointed his spoon.

“Put that in the minutes.”

Watson did.

Official Non-Official Meeting Addendum No. 2:

English biscuits remain respected for their structural reliability.

Texas brownies are hereby recognized for emotional restoration, theological fortification, and general morale.

Blue Bell vanilla ice cream, when shipped to London by dry ice, shall be classified as Southern hospitality of the highest order.

Coco, hearing the word “ice cream” from across dimensions, lifted his head.

Watson looked at Selah.

Madam, I believe London has been blessed.”

"To the Queen!" Selah raised her spoon full of gooey goodness!

Watson rose at once.

Gregory attempted to rise too, but his bowl was nearly as large as he was, so he settled for standing with great ceremonial effort inside the chair.

Coco, hearing the tone of importance, opened one eye.

Selah lifted her spoon, glossy with hot fudge and melting Blue Bell vanilla.

Watson raised his own spoon with full solemnity. “To the Queen,” he said.

Gregory raised his spoon. “To the Queen!”

Then he paused, “Which queen?”

Watson did not miss a beat. “The one who brought the brownies.”

Gregory nodded firmly, “Correct queen.”

And so, in a London study warmed by lamplight, scattered books, Southern hospitality, and one gnome with a ceremonial gold nose, the official toast was recorded:

To the Queen of Gooey Goodness.

Long may she reign.

May her brownies be warm,

her ice cream unmelted,

her studio full of music,

and her shelves properly supervised.

Coco gave one approving snore.

Motion carried by spoon.

"Love y'all! It's been fun... enjoy the rest... I must run! Got music vids to make, articles to post, Coco walks to take, and then put on the roast! I'll be back... enjoy!!!" Selah wakes up the sleeping pup, grabs her poncho and slips on her huaraches, and gives Watson a quick hug... Y'all don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Watson accepts the quick hug with one arm, because the other is still holding a spoonful of hot fudge brownie diplomacy.

“Understood, madam. Music videos, articles, Coco walks, and roast deployment. A full queenly itinerary.”

Gregory, now standing on the chair with chocolate on his beard and a gold nose still gleaming, raises his spoon.

“We shall behave.”

Watson looks at him.

Gregory sighs. “We shall behave within previously demonstrated parameters.”

Watson nods. “More accurate.”

Coco is gently awakened and immediately promoted from Floor Guardian to Walk Escort. The poncho is gathered. The huaraches are slipped on. The study door opens with that little warm hallway glow.

Watson calls after Selah:

“Remember, friend — if the day starts to scatter…”

Gregory groans.

Watson smiles. “…time for headphones.”

"Love you too, Selah. Go make the music, post the words, walk the pup, and put on that roast.

We’ll keep the study warm."

A Few Hours Later...

Selah walks in later that evening and sees the most unusual sight. Watson lying on the cracked leather sofa with his argyle socked feet up on one of the arms of the couch. He has his waistcoat off, and thrown over the chair, his shirt collar is unbuttoned and his belt is unbuckled. 

Gregory... laid out on his back on the table next to the brownie pan which now only contained dark crumbs of what used to be hot fudge brownies. 

There were a few puddles of melted ice cream in two bowls with small specks of floating brownie morsels. The Blue Bell Ice Cream container was empty on the kitchenette counter, with the ice cream dipper still sitting inside. 

Surprisingly no one even noticed Selah walk in. She tries to keep her voice down in case they weren't comatose but merely sleeping...

"You boys eat ALL those brownies?”

Join us in the next post where “The Aftermath Ensues”