“Is something burning?”
Jem knocked her tea from her lap as she sprung up from the chesterfield. She cursed again, taking long strides, running but not running, to the kitchen. Her eyes watered from the smoke. Yanking open the oven, her face was smacked with more thick smoke, searing her cheeks a little, making her cough, wave her hand in front of her. She nearly grabbed at the pan without thinking, thought, then slipped on a couple oven mitts before pulling the pan out and placing it on the stove.
“Cajun style tonight?” Linda asked, stepping into the kitchen with her teacup still in hand.
“Again,” Jem muttered. “I just can’t get this right.”
“It takes practice, hun. It’s not like there’s a Pinterest board for this stuff.”
“Just such a waste…”
“Come on, now. It won’t be that bad. Bit of sauce will help.”
Jem sighed, mitted hands on her hips. “I don’t even know what sauce goes with this.”
“Depends on the cut,” Linda said, opening some windows. The smoke alarm went off, finally. Jem growled as she marched over to it and waved her oven mitts in wide arcs. The alarm ceased.
“Let’s just take a look,” said Linda. She lifted the lid of the pan, causing more smoke to escape. Her nose wrinkled.
“It’s bad,” said Jem.
“It… could be better.”
“Well we have to eat it, right? It’s not like we can just throw it in the trash and hope no one finds it.”
“Well, we could bury it. Or throw it in the river. We still have plenty more left in the fridge, anyway.”
“This is why we need a pet dog.”
“We’re not having the dog conversation again. Besides, I’m not even sure a dog would eat—”
“Don’t push your luck!”
Linda laughed. “I’m kidding. It’ll be fine. Plenty of sauce, some good wine, and it’ll be beautiful.”
They set the dinner table. Candles, wine, potatoes, asparagus, corn, the works.
“Bon appetit,” said Linda. Jem rolled her eyes.
And together they ate the two meaty thighs, with plenty of sauce and wine to help.
Day 241’s three random writing prompt categories were, “Meat,” “‘Is something burning?'” and, “Cannibalism.”