Flip A Story

Today I thought I’d try something new, well at least new to me. I grabbed a cook book, not sure why, probably needed more for breakfast, and wait for it . . . flipped the pages, letting my finger do the talking.

Here’s what it “decided”:

“Special delivery!”

“Hi Martin, how was your day?”

“Just three near death experiences with a moving van, a taxi, and some guy who thought the bike lane was the expressway. Ran out of muscle cream, so my glutes are bawling, but all in a day’s work. Got a great tip from a receptionist with a piece of spinach stuck in her teeth . . . pretty smile, though.”

“Umhmm . . . well, just take your sweaty self to the shower. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Whoa, just a second there, what you got cookin’ good lookin’? Smells good!”

“Um, just a bit of this and that.”

“Uh, huh, just a bit of this and that, hey? Lemme see.”

“No, you’ll sweat in the stew. To the shower you go.”

“Wait, what’s this page turned to? Chicken Coq Au Vin? Sounds fancy for ‘barnyard scavenger hunt cook up’. Even pulled out the Dutch oven, I see. You know it’s Tuesday and usually that means mac and cheese. What’s the occasion? Wait! Really? Cover and bake for up to one hour and forty-five minutes? I’m starving! Kate, what’s going on?”

“Here, eat this, take a shower and we’ll talk more.”

“Ommm oooh.”

“You like? Good bread, isn’t it? More? You’re shaking your head. Be careful, smaller bites.”

 “Kinda’ hard when you shoved half a loaf in my mouth. I’m not leaving till you spill the goods. Oh no! Your mother’s not moving in here, is she? Wait, nope, she’s too busy researching the perfect formula for winning at blackjack. Not enough room in this apartment for her spreadsheets and supercomputers. Yuck! A cooked mushroom to the face!”

“Stop it, baby, or a potato is next. Now git in that shower.”

“Ok, sheesh. Going, alright?”

“Hey! Martin, what the heck are you doing? Get your sweaty ear off my belly!”

“Hey, buddy! I know you’re in there and can hear me! It’s Daddy! I know it’s dark and cozy in there but if you . . . aghh!”

“Warned you about the potato. I’m not pregnant, nothing’s going on. Please, shower.”

“Harsh, Kate. Alright, I’m going, but when it’s my turn to cook, I’m making tacos and I’ll put just a slight crack in each shell so that everything will spill on you.”   

“I’m trembling, now get.”

“Going, stop rolling your eyes.”

 “Finally.”

“I heard that! Hey! What’s this fishbowl doing on the bathroom counter? Oh, no way! How did you? Sea Monkeys!! You got Sea Monkeys! How? You even put a small castle in there and a plastic sword! Kate, you’re amazing!”

“I know. I got the sword from the dollar store. You know, the ones they put in drinks. The Sea Monkeys, well thank you Amazon. Martin, you’re sloshing water on the floor. You don’t need to run with the bowl.”

“Sorry, but you have no idea! Ever since Nancy—”

“Yes, I’ve heard the story of your evil sister flushing them down the toilet. It’s okay Martin, you’re safe and so are the monkeys.”

“Now we just have to name these little fellas.”

“How do you know they’re all guys? They’re literally just white blobs.”

“You can’t tell, seriously? Look at their little pointy things. Back to biology 101 for you, huh. Just kidding, put down the spoon. I’m going to name all six. Here we have Thor, then Kong, this one’s Konan, Zeus, Hercules, and Pete.”

“Pete?”

“Yes, Pete. Why not? It’s a good name.”

“Ooookayyy . . . now how are you going to tell them apart? Martin? Um, Martin, hey, no, put down the markers!”    

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