Sunday, January 6, 2019

A whole brunch of trouble

I’d like to tell you a story about my weekend. It starts out with a very kind invitation from an elderly widow a few houses up. Let’s call her Mrs. Whitman. I hear she doesn’t get out too much and is rather lonely, so I guess she decided she wanted to get to know her neighbors a bit better. She invited us and a few of her other neighbors over for a casual get together this morning.

Mrs. Whitman is apparently something of an experienced chef because she prepared some truly amazing food, much of it from scratch. The rolls and cheesy grits were quite tasty, but the quiche really blew me away. I had to compliment her on it, of course.

The problem is one of the other guys who was there. We’ll call him “Tony”. Tony is really competitive and can find a way to turn anything into a fight. I don’t know how he does it, but it always bothers me and I sometimes let it get under my skin a bit too much. In any case, today Tony was in rare form, even for him.

As soon as I complimented Mrs. Whitman’s quiche, Tony had to jump in with an even more superlative compliment comparing it to something he’d eaten on a fancy European trip across France and Italy and how this surpassed even the master chefs there. Flattered, Mrs. Whitman insisted he have the last slice.

I really don’t know what came over me. I think I said something like, “Oh, but I must have just a taste more, it’s truly divine” as I quickly reached for the pie server to cut off just a bit for myself. Tony’s hand was already halfway to there and we locked eyes as we each laid our hands on it.

That must be why we didn’t notice that the cut glass pitcher of sweet tea was right there next to it. Of course, our sudden movement as we each went to pull the server our way somehow ended up going sideways, and we knocked the half full pitcher right over into Mrs. Whitman’s lap. It bounced off and fell to the hard wood floor. As it landed just wrong, the handle snapped off and shattered.

To make matters worse, that delicate pitcher had been a wedding gift and was one of the few things she had left that brought to mind her dear departed husband. Needless to say, the brunch was completely ruined in that single instant. Nothing either of us could say could repair the damage done. We all said our goodbyes rather awkwardly shortly thereafter and I don’t expect to be invited back.
It just goes to show - one mad grapple spoils the brunch.
Oh, and if you're feeling bad for Mrs. Whitman? She really only invited us over because she’s the leader of a local grannie gang. She wanted us all out of our houses so her people could break into our places.

Luckily we have a good security system, “Safe Hello”, which caught them and set off an alarm. By the time we were on our way out, the cops had already arrived at the street and were rounding up the culprits.

Here’s the real twist, though. Tony is one of their enforcers and was in on it too! So we know due to Safe Hello Tony’s Whitman’s friend.

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