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Fried or Baked

"I thought we were having fish tonight," he said to his wife as he walked into the kitchen and put down his computer bag.

"No. Today is Tuesday, so we are having chicken. We have fish on Fridays," she said as she cut the vegetables with a sharp butcher knife in her right hand.

"Can we at least have fried chicken?" he said as he was removed his tie.

"No. We are having baked chicken. It's healthier that way," she said as she chopped the vegetables more intensely.

"Healthy... smealthy. I'm tired of baked chicken. Can we just once have it fried? Please? You know, like how my momma used to make?" he said.

Slowly and methodically, she turned to face her husband. She tapped her right foot, placed her hand on her left hip and waved the butcher knife at him.

"Well then, why don't you go ask your momma to fry some chicken for you?!" she said.

"That's not funny. You know she's dead," he said as he took two steps backwards.

She slowly turned back to face the cutting board full of vegetables.

"Humph... maybe she should have had the baked chicken," she said.

Story by:

Ines Franco Fatzinger

submitted at 6:19am

31 May 2012

Ines Franco Fatzinger's web:

postcardsfromines.wordpress.com