#sam sass

[adolphuslongestaffe]

Baron Zemo's American Cookbook

Chapter 3: Apple Pie

Excerpted from Baron Zemo's American Cookbook

Apple Pie

Aside from handgun violence and an inflated sense of self-importance, is there anything more quintessentially American than apple pie? Possibly. But if such a thing exists, it has yet to unseat the pastry partner of the national sport as an icon, on the scale of the proverbial apple pie and baseball. The pie itself originated in England, but as the United States also did so, this fact only seems to add to its specifically American saveur. As for the ubiquity of the apple in the US, I will spare you the folklore regarding the spread and cultivation of this cider-making fruit, as it is uninteresting, largely a fabrication, and has been repeated by countless others, ad nauseam.

[theimportanceofstoriez]

Sam's eye roll doing the MOST

[adolphuslongestaffe]

Baron Zemo's American Cookbook

Chapter 7

“You can put me down any time, now,” Sam says, to the Winter Soldier’s impassive black mask and tactical goggles, which are reflecting the flashing red and blue lights of the many police and emergency vehicles parked around the building. “I know you can hear me, Judge Dredd, I told you I can walk on my own.”

Bucky draws a deep breath and lets it out slowly, as if contemplating this idea. “I mean…I’d really like to care what you said about that, but I’m not done embarrassing you. So. Gonna keep you right here for now.”

“You motherf—Barton! Shoot him!” Sam calls out, as Clint exits the building and comes over to meet them. “He’s activated again or something, you gotta save me! ”

Clint raises a blonde eyebrow. “You sure you want to be saved? Looks like you're in a pretty good spot to me.”

[adolphuslongestaffe]

Baron Zemo's American Cookbook

Chapter 5: Chili Dogs

Excerpted from Baron Zemo’s American Cookbook

Chili Dogs

What can be said of the chili dog? As I sit contemplating it, I feel the faith that I will discover some inherent goodness in this land ebbing away. Perhaps it is the scotch speaking, but this…this may be the food that has defeated me. The average American, I am told, consumes seventy hot-dogs per year, of which some number are more likely than not to be of the chili variety. Seventy. I pride myself on my culinary fortitude, my dear reader, but how can a man hope to bear himself up beneath the burden of such knowledge?

[adolphuslongestaffe]

Baron Zemo's American Cookbook

Chapter 6

Mouth dry, pulse pounding with adrenaline, arm wrenched halfway out of the socket by this six-foot three-inch slab of blonde iron he’s carrying. He’s not even sure his wings can support a guy this heavy. But he hangs on. Gets him to the helicarrier. Steve makes some stupid quip about a big breakfast, then a black blur comes out of nowhere rams him right back off the edge. Sam dives after him but his left wing gets caught on something. The momentum throws him down against the bulkhead, but the thing that has caught him hauls him back up with a disorienting lurch, and throws him like he’s been shot from a cannon. Instinct works faster than thought, and by the time he sees what the thing is, he’s steadied himself in the air and has his machine pistols out.

The barrage of gunfire barely fazes the soldier. He’s already out of the way by the time the bullets reach the spot he’d been standing. Sam tosses the pistols—they were just a distraction to buy him a split-second anyway—and fires his rockets. He thinks for one exhilarating instant that he’s home free, but the soldier has come prepared. Something whizzes through the air and skewers his wing. He doesn’t see the wire till it’s flipped him around. The soldier yanks the line and pulls him out of the air like a kite. He hits the tarmac with a spine-cracking thud, just in time to see his wing ripped off. He’s barely on his feet, when the soldier charges him like a hunting lion. In less than a second he’ll be on him. He will literally tear him apart.

[adolphuslongestaffe]

Baron Zemo's American Cookbook

Chapter 2: Tater Tots

Excerpted from Baron Zemo’s American Cookbook

Tater Tots

The phenomenon commonly referred to in the Unites States as the 'tater tot' is a deeply American side dish, though variations can unsurprisingly be found in countries such as New Zealand and Australia. The name is a combination of the word 'tater', which is an English vernacular abbreviation of 'potato', and 'tot,' which is an American idiomatic term for 'child' (and refers either to the dish being intended for consumption by children, or to the fact that these objects are served at a size rather smaller than a that of a standard roasting potato). The tater tot is difficult to describe. It is a bit like a potato croquette, but rather than yesterday’s mash, it is made from grated or shredded potatoes, rolled into a small cylinder and fried in oil.

[soulless-puppy]

“Since you were four, really, between naptime and snack?” Is up there with “and after we kill it we can go to Disneyland!”

[super-not-naturall]

"Well, then we kill him."

Sam's sass is so great sometimes 😂