Fun with words and words for fun

Category Archives: Lighthearted

kitchen-4Mary and Bill sat on the sofa in the small living room at the Upper Room. Mary had poured them drinks. Bill rolled a joint making sure not to spill any. As soon as the joint was ready, he lit it, puffed twice then passed it along. Mary took it from him and puffed for awhile before passing it back.

They did not speak much. Mary wanted to tell him that she didn’t have much more cooking to teach him, that she thought he had learned quickly and thoroughly. She wanted to tell him to watch out for Bea. The more he advanced, the more he challenged her position. It didn’t matter that they were still fraternizing. She wanted to talk about that too, to tell him to stop. But while she might tell him the other things, she’d never tell him that.  She liked him, goddamn it. She liked him and she was feeling possessive of him, even jealous. She knew she’d never let that out either.

They had not undressed yet. Mary had already made the bed with sheets she brought, like she always did. Then she fixed her makeup in the bathroom. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress, and the bottom two too, so as they sat getting high Bill could see a good piece of cleavage and most of her thighs. Mary liked him looking. His interest in her turned her on. Being turned on and having the itch scratched was something new to her.

This time she wore a white-white dress to contrast with her dark-dark skin. She wore black, open-toe high heels, her toenails, fingernails and lips done in a deep purple. Underneath, she’d worn black, black bra, black panties. She wore no stockings.

“You look good,” Bill said when the joint was done. He rolled another joint and offered it to Mary. She declined, saying they could have it later. Bill put it on the table and reached for her. She moved close, next to him. He kissed her once then helped her lay down on the sofa. He lay with her and for a long time they kissed. He purposefully didn’t touch her and didn’t let her touch him. Finally, he asked what she was feeling.

“You first, Billy boy.”

“Contentment,” Bill said.

“Excitement,” Mary said. “I want you to, to…I can’t even say it.”

“Why?”

“Cause I’m shy.”

“You shy or you scared?”

Mary flushed full red over her dark-chocolate face. “Both,” she said.

“Good,” Bill said. “Honesty.”

“I’m always honest with you,” Mary said.

“Yeah. When you say something.” Bill leaned in and nibbled on Mary’s earlobe. Then he whispered softly in her ear all the things he was going to do to her. He gave a full, detailed description, held nothing back, was not vulgar about it in any way. He made it as sensual and erotic as his English major’s mind could create.

Mary flushed full red over her black again and Bill simply looked at her, watched her blush, enjoyed teasing and cajoling her into imagining what was to come and how pleasant it might be. Then he began doing precisely what he said he would. He was slow and gentle in all his movements, deliberate with the placement of his touches and his kisses. He discovered immediately that Mary was already in a place he wanted her to be, a place she’d never been before, or at least that’s what she would tell him. He discovered that he did not have to work hard to accomplish his end, and he was pleased with himself. Soft kisses strategically placed and brief touches, just teases really as they lay on the couch, were enough to cause Mary to moan with pleasure.

He liked her too. It wasn’t like with Bea or Norma or Eleanor or Alfreda. It meant something with Mary, and that was…

Coming Now In About Another Month:

The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA


kitchen-4Alfreda and Bill stayed a while by that rock, Alfreda helping herself to a generous feel of Bill. She looked him in the eyes as she helped herself, noting that she liked what she saw. Not removing her hand, she kissed him, slipped him her tongue. Bill, as if mesmerized, kissed back and allowed her to help herself. He knew he should stop it, cut it off right here, but he didn’t.

“I’m gonna drive you back,” Alfreda said while they kissed. I gotta see if what Bea says is gospel. Or maybe she just getting senile.”

Alfreda stood up. She took Bill’s hand and pulled him up. Still holding that hand, she slid it up under her dress for Bill to discover she wore no underwear. “See,” Alfreda said, “we just one big happy family here. And don’t you give my husband no thought. I’m telling you it’s okay.”

They stood a moment longer. Alfreda reached inside Bill’s kitchen pants so they were both touching bare skin. All the while they kissed. Finally, Bill cut it off saying they should get back inside. But Alfreda did not let him go right away.

“I’m getting what I want,” she said. “I ain’t no old biddy like Bea. I’m young and strong and I got my own needs that you gonna fill. It works on lots of levels, believe you me.”

Bill remembered it was anything but okay. Robert slapped him upside the head two times for Alfreda and called her a shameless hussy. Bill reminded him that Henry Lee was screwing anything that had a pussy and so what difference did it make. Robert informed Bill that they all sat together in church on Sundays, Robert leading the choir that Alfreda and Mary sang in while Henry Lee minded the kids in the front pew.

“Stay away from that shameless hussy,” Robert told Bill before he got in the van with Alfreda.

“I’ll do my best,” Bill said.

“Huh, glory,” Robert sang out.

In the van, Alfreda immediately reached for Bill. Bill slid as close to the passenger door as he could, making it hard for her to get to him.

“I got it all figured,” Alfreda said. “You don’t’ give me what I want, I tell that man of mine you made a pass at me.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would. I’ll tell him you made me do things.”

“Get out of here,” Bill said.

“Try me.”

This was déjà vu for Bill. Such a thing had happened once before to him in his life.

Alfreda stopped in one of the parks in Whitehall, the actual county Suburban East was located in. She pulled off the road into the most remote section of the park’s parking lot and went over the seat into the cargo area. Bill followed, partly because he felt he had to, mostly because he was young and he really wanted to.

Bill remembered. Her kisses weren’t cold yet when she strode up to Henry Lee and kissed him like nothing happened. Henry Lee was none the wiser. But when he started saying he heard they had some excitement over there, Bill got scared thinking Henry Lee knew, except Henry Lee was talking about the fire because Alvin had called him and told him about it.

“First fire, huh?” Henry Lee said to Bill. He slapped Bill five. “Alvin told me he ran out the door. I’d have done the same.”

“Well,” Bill said, “now I know how to put out a grease fire.”

“Baking soda works too,” Henry Lee said. Then, “Let’s get that meat into the van so she can get back.”

“Nice working with you,” Alfreda said to Bill just before she drove off. “See you again soon, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Bill said.

Due to several personal commitments,  Coming Now In About Another Month:

The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA


zombies“Go ahead, make my day.”

Familiar? Of course it is. Then there were Charles Bronson and Chuck Norris and Shaft and a slew of others. They were our heroes. Before them were a host of others from the Humphrey Bogart era. For the most part, they each did the same thing: they went up against a bully or bullies and helped people who could not protect themselves who were being picked on. Evil was defeated by good. We were reminded that if we worked at it, we did not have to be powerless.

In those movies the world wasn’t coming to an end. The victims were individuals, part of the rest of us who were just normal people, the cows in the pasture who went to work every day. We were regular regulars.

Perhaps the advent of the nuclear bomb set us on the zombie train. They told us if we hid under our desks (public schools in the 50s) we would be safe from a nuclear blast. They told us if we lined up along the wall between the windows we wouldn’t get cut by the glass. And silly us, we believed them. Perhaps then the true sense of the end of humankind was not yet real.

The end of humankind as a theme, mass destruction of everything, comes later. Films like this existed and played all along. Nuclear destruction was one of many themes in them. Godzilla, King Kong and natural disasters were others. Mutations heading toward zombies weren’t in the picture yet. Of course we had Frankenstein, anther precursor to zombies, but the other themes were the ticket up to a point, until we moved to the apocalypse movies and zombies.

Space exploration and continued nuclear developments changed the nature of the mass destruction scenarios, as did scientific advances. Human error and folly, normally based in greed, began to lead us to mutants that make us zombies.

So here we are. We get remakes of the shipwreck movies and more technologically advanced monster movies. But the latest, biggest fascination are the zombies. Some devastation alters who and what we are. Or a greedy corporation led by a selfish mad scientist makes a grand mistake. Most of us are killed but not really. We come back as zombies, those poor, pathetic beings wandering endlessly for food.

The very rich are safe in their underground cities, or their segregated, gated cities, like in Hunger Games, or they are in their own city in space. We regular regulars are relegated to food for zombies, only to become zombies ourselves.

Why did we go here? Why do our movies and mass entertainment go here? Having gone here, are they leading us here? Where are we going?

Follow politics, follow the money and understand the simple mathematical concept of the least common denominator. These will provide indications of the answers to the questions above.

The fight between liberals and conservatives as a philosophical fight is about least common denominator. But our politics in general is Kabuki Theater, a show for the zombies-to-be. More than 50 percent of our leaders are millionaires. All the leaders, including the Hollywood elite, will have entry to the gated cities. The lefties preach least common denominator while they stockpile their own wealth. It’s the Al Gore hypocrisy: conserve energy so I can use yours. The righties preach self-sufficiency knowing they’re pretty protected and the odds are stacked in their favor, the favor of the already rich.

We, the regular regulars, are zombie food soon to be zombies. It’s a metaphor of course. Yet here we are and deeper and deeper into it we go.


kitchen-4Eleanor’s last day was a Saturday, an OSU event day with lots of parents coming in to see their kids. OSU provided stupendous revenues for Columbus and Columbus businesses, especially hotels and restaurants, and both the east and west stores would run full all weekend long.

Bill and Henry Lee had started cutting extra supplies of steaks beginning on the Thursday. The Thursday night inventory was doubled. Friday and Saturday inventories were quadrupled, and then some. Neither Bill nor Henry Lee drank much as they worked now although they did get high in the deep freeze.

Mr. Jim came in to work on Friday. He did the line next to Bill. Bill did the broiler instead of Henry Lee so Henry Lee could stay downstairs cutting meat. The meat delivery had been doubled, up to three thousand pounds. None of it was put into the freezer. The walk-in was wall-to-wall meat and its refrigeration unit was working overtime.

If during ordinary times the help took extended breaks to fraternize, now there was no rest for the wicked. Bill spent the entire morning down in the meat room. Henry Lee came in early and worked late all weekend and no one rested much between meals. Mr. Jim worked with Mary before going to the line so Bill could stay downstairs cutting steaks.

At eleven-thirty Bill carried up the meat trays for the lunch. He made three trips. Then he made sure he had a full case of French fries. Mary and Grandma would both be doing breading.

Friday lunch was gangbusters. They had a reputation, and anyone who was anyone who did any recommending, recommended Suburban. Parents of students who’d been there came back again and again. Newbies made sure it was on their dining out agenda.

Tommy had to step up his pace calling orders. Bill ran a full broiler and he fired up and used both sides of the charcoal grill. That was the grill that had heated the sizzler on which he’d burned his hand his first day as a cook. He had no feeling in those fingertips now, none, zip, zilch. Bea had broken out three new cases of dishes. Nothing was worse than having food that needed to go and not having dishes to put it on.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Nonstop orders started at about twenty-to-twelve and ran till two o’clock when they finally ran out the board. Even then more orders came in, but Tommy drew himself a coffee and went out to check the dining rooms. Bill and Mr. Jim finished up the stragglers, Mr. Jim complimenting Bill on how well he did and how far he’d come along.

Bill took a quick cigarette break out in the hall. He sat on a metal milk case, drank a cup of coffee and looked at the outside through the screen door. Mary joined him, but only for a moment. They were all business. Two prime ribs were cooking. She told him check them at four. Alvin was coming over to help him and Jimmy do the dinner. She thought he might want to fire up the other Garland. Mr. Jim was coming in tomorrow to help out. Saturday of an OSU function or sports weekend was all hands on deck.

Bea came out while they were talking. She lit a cigarette from Bill’s and stood by them. She was sweaty, Bill could see. Her hair was pasted to her forehead in several places and little beads of sweat lined her brow and her mustache. Cigarette in her mouth, with both hands she hoisted her dress, squatted slightly and pulled her underwear away from her skin, adjusting it and resettling it. Then she reached inside and scratched herself, front and back.

“Ain’t you got no shame?” Mary asked.

“Not in front of you two,” Bea said.

“Mercy me,” Mary said.

************************************************************************

Coming at the end of May 2017:

The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide


kitchen-4“Damn, damn, damn.”

That was Bill’s initial reaction to feeling the knife cut him. He put the knife down and walked over to the sink where he ran cold water over the cut. Red blood poured out and washed down the sink. He’d nicked the side of his right index finger, not too bad, but no cut was good. When it was clean, he took a paper towel and pressed on the cut to stop the bleeding.

In another drawer on the other side of the meat room, they kept band aids and iodine and gauze bandages—all the things that might be needed to treat cuts and burns. Bill walked over to that drawer. Mary dropped from the counter and went over to look at the cut.

“See,” she said.  “I told you to change that goddamned uniform. You never listen, do you?”

“Of course I do,” Bill said. “I listen to all you teach me and everything you say. And I do everything you tell me regarding the work. I just don’t always do what you suggest regarding other things. Mostly I do, though.”

“You’re full of it,” Mary said. Seeing it wasn’t too bad a cut, she went back to her spot on the counter. “Bring the band aid over and I’ll put it on for you. I’ll kiss it too if you want.”

“Kiss this,” Bill said, making a well-known male gesture.

“It’s what I’m waiting on,” Mary said. “But only if you kiss this,” she said, responding to his gesture in kind.

“Now, now, children,” Henry Lee said. “And you ain’t said yet how her panties smelled.”

Mary laughed. She was putting on the band aid and as she did so she reminded Bill that he hadn’t answered her question as to how the panties smelled.

 Bill flushed red again. He looked at her. “They smelled like pussy,” he whispered since he was close to her. “And they turned me on.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Henry Lee said.

“And you ain’t gonna,” Bill said.

“He said they got him hot,” Mary said. She was finished with the band aid and reached down to feel Bill up. “I know how to make a boy hot,” she said. She laughed again and patted Bill on his shoulder. “I need to show you some things upstairs, and then you can come back down here. I see you got a lot of meat to cut.”

“We getting there,” Henry Lee said.

“We won’t be long,” Mary said.

“Doing a quickie, huh?”

“We ain’t’ doing nothing,” Mary said. She came down from the counter again and headed out of the meat room.

“Be right back,” Bill said.

“Take your time again,” Henry Lee said. “I’m gonna take my time with Marie and I’ll work late if I have to. We need about two hundred-fifty Tops, a hundred-fifty Supers and eighty Bostons. The rest I already just about got.”

“Okay,” Bill said. He winked at Henry Lee. “They smelled good,” Bill said on his way out the door.

Henry Lee grunted an acknowledgement.

Upstairs, Mary showed Bill how she set the chickens to boil. Then Bill scrubbed three trays of potatoes for the dinner service. He immediately put two trays into the convection oven.  After that, he checked the prime rib by poking it with his finger right in the middle.

“It done?” Mary asked.

“Not hardly. Needs at least a half hour, probably an hour.”

“We’ll use that chicken stock for cream of potato soup in the morning. And we’ll make chicken sauce for pot pies for the day after. Tomorrow night I’ll have grandma bake off some crusts.

“We’re gonna be real busy through the weekend,” Bill said.

“Lord have Mercy,” Mary said. “I just want to lay my head down and sleep.”

“I feel like tripping.”

“Trip on this,” Mary said. She lifted her dress and flashed Bill.

Bill ran his tongue over his lips.

“Come on,” Mary said. “I’m horny and you owe me. Let’s go down.”

“You go first. I’ll meet you in the girl’s room.”

“Don’t make me wait,” Mary said.


 

kitchen-4Downstairs in the meat room, Bill drew up a stool and sat down. He had put Mary’s drawers in his pants pocket. He pulled them out now and twirled them on his fingers.

“Bea souvenir?” Henry Lee asked, seeing what he was doing.

“Actually they’re Mary’s,” Bill said. He gave them a little sniff then went back to twirling them.

“Playing a double header, huh?”

“Looks like it.”

“Damn boy. I ain’t had neither one of them.”

Bill laughed. “Bea was a whole new experience.”

“I can imagine. She’s old enough to be your mother. Bet she ain’t getting none at home.”

“She can still kick it pretty good. Wasn’t really something I was looking for, but you know how it is.”

“Yeah. I know how it is.”  Henry Lee laughed. “Have a drink and let’s finish cutting meat. We still need lots of everything. Robert said they were really busy last night and they need a full supply. My wife be here about four. She driving the van today. Alvin’s not moving his lazy ass.”

Suddenly Bill felt bogged down by work. Until now, until this moment, he’d felt like a kid in an amusement park. Every day was like a new ride, every new thing he did, every new experience, was a thrill he’d never had before.  He got tired, but it was good tired. He didn’t get bored; he was ever-enthusiastic. For the first time in his life he was in demand too. Waitresses wanted him, the kitchen girls wanted him, he could just about have his pick of ’em all. Bea wasn’t exactly a beauty queen, but what she lacked in that department, he’d just learned, she made up for with experience. Experience, he’d discovered, was really something. He might never have picked her or tried for her, but he wasn’t the least bit sorry and he knew he could go for more if the situation was right.

Bill lit a cigarette. He got up, went into the drawer for the bourbon and took himself a nice long drink. He handed the bottle to Henry Lee who did the same thing. When Bill had put the bottle away, he pushed the stool back to its place and resumed cutting meat. He was still working on top sirloin butts. These butts yielded Boston Strips, Supers and Tops. Once the fat was trimmed from everywhere but the top of the butt, the first two cuts were made the long way. These were the Bostons, a strip steak similar to a New York Strip except that it came from a different cut of beef. It was less expensive than a New York and it had a slightly different texture about it, but it was really tender and had a good taste. After the two Bostons were cut, the butt was split, making two mostly triangular pieces of meat. These were cut into the Tops and Supers which were the best-selling of the steaks.

Bill weighed every steak he cut. So did Henry Lee. Uniformity was the key. Any steak too light ended up as beef tips or chopped meat (hamburger). Any steak too heavy was trimmed to precise weight. This way customers could not complain that the steak was thicker the last time, even though some tried.

About three-thirty, Mary came downstairs. They all took a moment in the deep freeze to get high and then they drank some more bourbon. Mary parked her butt up on the counter and crossed her legs at the ankles like she usually did. She swung her feet like a kid.

“Boy here was sniffing your panties, girl,” Henry Lee said. He cut meat as he spoke. “He take ’em off you or you give ’em to him?”

“They smell good?” Mary asked.

Bill flushed red and that’s when he cut himself.


kitchen-4They were pleasantly high and nicely buzzed by bourbon as they set about the meat cutting. Bill still had not changed his uniform but he had taken off his apron so the blood stains on his pants were again visible. They were not bright red anymore. They were the dull red color of scabs and Bill, under the influence, no longer gave them any thought. He honed his butcher’s knife, as did Henry Lee, and started into the cutting. He was thinking more about Eleanor’s leaving than anything else, considering that he was simultaneously disappointed and relieved. He was disappointed because she was a good time. He was relieved because there would be one less thing to conceal from his soon-to-be wife. Then, he still had Norma, and Norma was a pip. Drenovis had pegged her correctly and he would probably still be sore at her for going with Bill if he wasn’t already two new waitresses past her.

Henry Lee had set Bill to cutting Bostons and Tops. Bill was on to his fifth top sirloin butt when Bea came into the meat room and asked him if he could help her carry some things up from the storeroom. Bill asked if she could get one of the dishwashers, but she said she needed him. He told Henry Lee he’d be right back. Henry Lee told him to take his time.

In the storeroom, Bea closed the door behind them and bolted it from the inside. She sat herself up on a stack of cases of canned tomatoes and spread her legs wide.

“You weren’t gonna forget me, were you?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Bill said.

“I been waiting for this since yesterday, since you told me not to wear any drawers. Well, here, see?” She put one leg up on the stack of tomatoes next to the one on which she sat so Bill could see all of her. As she did this, she slowly began unbuttoning the kitchen dress from the top. Once her brassiere was completely visible, she reached behind her, unhooked it and let it fall so her breasts were fully exposed. She smiled at Bill. “Come to Mama,” she said.

Bill was not even twenty-one yet. It didn’t matter that Bea was in her mid forties. As soon as she put that leg up and started unbuttoning her dress, he was ready. Thoughts of Eleanor dissipated and disappeared. Even thoughts about Mary went to a back burner in his mind. Bea didn’t have to tell him a second time. Without any hesitation, he stepped forward towards her.

Afterwards, before he went back into the meat room, he helped Bea carry upstairs the things she needed to set up for the dinner and complete today’s preparations for her specials tomorrow. It took him two trips to get everything upstairs. After the second trip, he carried in a case of lettuce for Bea to wash for the dinner. Once she was set, he went back to where Mary was working.

“Want a beer?” he asked her.

“Sure.”

“Be right back,” he said. He went out the side door into the side dining room where he found Eleanor. He told her to bring three beers into the kitchen and quickly returned to Mary.

“Have fun with Bea?” she asked.

“You jealous?”

“Not one single bit. But like I said, you better not leave me high and dry.”

“No more lectures?’

“Would it do any good?”

“Not a bit.”

After Eleanor brought the beers , Bill leaned Mary against her sink and reached up her dress. His fingers found their way inside her underwear and probed at her, but Mary stopped him. “Not here,” she said. “And not now. Go get me a half dozen chickens for Bea’s chicken salad tomorrow.”

Bill went downstairs with his beer and the one he’d gotten for Henry Lee. When he returned upstairs with the chickens, Mary was washing potatoes for the baked potatoes for dinner. Bill set down the chickens next to the sink. Mary stopped what she was doing, dried her hands, then reached up her dress and stepped out of her underwear. She handed them to Bill. “Think on these for awhile,” she said.