The plan was elegant in its simplicity; prepare supper while VampireLover – his daughter – was out getting her hair done.
The Hook – the son-in-law – was writing and Glee Girl – the granddaughter – was busy being a kid, so he decided to step up. Unfortunately, the Fates had conspired against Poppy – the grandfather – and his task was made more difficult by the proverbial monkey wrench.
I was knee-deep in the book version of You’ve Been Hooked! and The Book Of Terrible when I heard a racket from the kitchen.
POPPY: What’s going on here? Cook, you rotten son of a bitch! What’s the matter with you?
The cooking agenda was not unfolding properly.
- Potatoes: Mashed to perfection. Could have been used as snow in a movie!
- Veggies: Green and supple, not rubbery.
- Extras: Sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, etc., all laid out.
- Chicken legs: Frozen to the core!
And so he retrieved the dish from the stove, moved the legs around a bit and tried again.
Twenty minutes pass.
Another status check yields disappointing results. Then the phone rings and one of Poppy’s friends hears this…
POPPY: No, dinner’s not done! The damn chicken legs won’t cook! I’ve never had chicken do this to me! I’m gonna throw the sons of bitches out the door!
I can just imagine the look on his female friend’s face as he hurled a series of expletives – senior style – through the phone. I tried to settle his temper, but after another status check failed to shows sign of improvement, he switched tactics. The dish was removed, the cursed legs were taken out and tossed angrily onto a shallow baking pan!
THE HOOK: We forgot to bring the legs up from the basement freezer in the morning; maybe they’re still frozen…
POPPY: They’re damn rotten things, is what they are! I’ve never had this much trouble with chicken!
THE HOOK: Well, just hang in there!
I’m real helpful in the kitchen, right? Even more time passes and VampireLover finally returns home to restore order to a universe thrown into chaos by her absence – families can’t function without Mom – and what doe she say first?
VL: How’s it going, Dad?
POPPY: These damn chicken legs!
I just put my head down and kept writing…
VL: You’re cooking alone? Where is he? Get in here, you!
It was my turn to be grilled…
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, POPPY!