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September 20 "Baking chicken"
Baking chicken. What does this remind you of? Just start writing.
"Baking chicken?" She flipped her hair out of her eyes with a flick of an impatient wrist. "Are you kidding me?"
Her husband stood in front of her with a sheepish expression. His apron was blackened and charred,the remains of a screen-print on the front saying "iss the Coo" with just a smidgen of an imprint of a red lipstick kiss left. He looked really apologetic as he tried to calm her down. "It was an accident-"
"Oh, really? Really?" Wrong thing to say, apparently, although everyone nearby was at a loss to say what the right words would be. She continued, her voice rising with every syllable. "You accidentally destroyed my kitchen. You accidentally burned a whole in the goddamned wall. You accidentally killed my pet parakeet with smoke inhalation! Is this what you're trying to tell me? It's okay because it was an accident? What in God's name were you even thinking?"
One of the nearby firemen winced as her tirade rose to unheard of heights, and her husband paled even further. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked down at the ground as if the cracks in the sidewalk might herald some life-saving answer. The chaos of the scene seemed to recede, the hurried pace of the firemen and rescue workers fading into the background, and it was as if the whole world was holding its collective breath, waiting for an answer. Finally, he looked up, an uncertain expression on his face as he offered an explanation. "Happy Anniversary?"
So my plan was to do these Sunday through Thursday. See how well that's working out?
Baking chicken. What does this remind you of? Just start writing.
"Baking chicken?" She flipped her hair out of her eyes with a flick of an impatient wrist. "Are you kidding me?"
Her husband stood in front of her with a sheepish expression. His apron was blackened and charred,the remains of a screen-print on the front saying "iss the Coo" with just a smidgen of an imprint of a red lipstick kiss left. He looked really apologetic as he tried to calm her down. "It was an accident-"
"Oh, really? Really?" Wrong thing to say, apparently, although everyone nearby was at a loss to say what the right words would be. She continued, her voice rising with every syllable. "You accidentally destroyed my kitchen. You accidentally burned a whole in the goddamned wall. You accidentally killed my pet parakeet with smoke inhalation! Is this what you're trying to tell me? It's okay because it was an accident? What in God's name were you even thinking?"
One of the nearby firemen winced as her tirade rose to unheard of heights, and her husband paled even further. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked down at the ground as if the cracks in the sidewalk might herald some life-saving answer. The chaos of the scene seemed to recede, the hurried pace of the firemen and rescue workers fading into the background, and it was as if the whole world was holding its collective breath, waiting for an answer. Finally, he looked up, an uncertain expression on his face as he offered an explanation. "Happy Anniversary?"
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So my plan was to do these Sunday through Thursday. See how well that's working out?
