BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Let me tell you the story of my trip to the kitchen for coffee, also known as The Day AFTER Thanksgiving Massa-Cree…

I needed coffee. One cup simply hadn’t been enough, and wingnuts were everywhere on Facebook. If I were going to survive, a healthy bolus of caffeine was an absolute must.

I knew I would be going into enemy territory. After all, it was the day after Gluttony Day… The Big L… No, not that L, the L-tryptophan L… But that wasn’t my greatest concern. No, not at all. Truth is, what frightened me the most was the pie. Sure, it was wounded, and hanging out in the icebox with its cohort in crime, whipped cream, but everybody knows that when a pie is wounded that is when it is at its most dangerous…

I tiptoed into the kitchen, being as quiet as I possibly could. The icebox door was still shut, so that was a good thing. I refilled my coffee, then started to leave. I was fairly pleased with myself that I had evaded the pie. That was my first mistake. In my moment of overconfidence I was attacked by the soaking roasting pan and pie dishes in the sink. I had no choice but to engage. It was an epic battle, but I won, “cleaning up” nicely. I didn’t want to run the risk of a second attack, so I went on the offensive, even going so far as to hoof the kitchen compost bucket out to the composter for emptying.

I returned to the kitchen, confident that I had won the war. This was my second mistake. Same as the first, but still the second. Just as I finished wiping down the counter, the cornbread dressing and giblet gravy leapt from the icebox and engaged in a coordinated flanking attack. I was fending them off, but then a bowl and spoon joined the fray. Still, I continued to put up a good fight, right up until the microwave attacked me from behind.

And then… It was all over but the digesting.

It really was one of those truly peculiar moments in life.

I mean the kind where you feel that sudden rush of elation because you know that the finely crafted, long-thought-out trap you have set has sprung, and in the process has snared the prey. Of course, what makes it so peculiar is that the bubble of elation pops quickly, and is replaced all at once by the vacuum of realization that you have no clue what you are going to do with said prey now that you have snared it.

Of course, that is also followed by the gut-wrenching fear you feel because of exactly what that prey is. In this case, it was a redhead.

I suppose I should back up a bit…

You see, around here, one of the favored snacks of Her Supreme Royal Redheaded Highness, the O-spring, and, well, Moi, is Triscuits. However, we especially like them after you lay them out on a plate, sprinkle them liberally with shredded cheese, then take them for a spin in the microwave for 15 – 45 seconds. Timing is crucial, but there’s a wide range. It largely depends on the type of cheese, as well as the thickness of the shred layer you lay down.

You don’t want them to go too long, otherwise the cheese goes nuclear and all but evaporates. Too little and the shreds are just a little sweaty, so they fall off. Nope… You have to time it exactly, so that you achieve the proper level of melty clingage and bubbly cheesiness. A second too much, and even if you don’t evaporate the cheese you end up with molten dairy lava that will take the skin right off your lips and the roof of your mouth.

Not good at all…

But, yeah, I’m sorta digressing. You see, the thing here is that whenever E K or the O-spring fixes themselves a plate of Melty Triscuit Treats, they eat them. I know… Sort of a natural progression. Makes all kinds of sense. Except when you add this to the mix: Whenever I make myself a plate of Melty Triscuit Treats, they eat them.

See what I mean? Kinda makes you wonder how it is that I know that I actually like them, eh? I mean, what with me not getting to eat them and all.

Well, that’s where the trap came in. As it happens, I like spicy food. Peppery spicy is my friend. I am a bit of a connoisseur of peppers, as much as a redneck like myself can be a connoisseur. Anyhow, that being the case, I happen to have a bottle of ground Chipotle pepper in the cabinet. If you are unfamiliar with Chipotle, it is a smoked Jalapeño. Good stuff.

See where I’m heading? Well, just in case you are being a little myopic today, allow me to explain: I discovered that I like ground Chipotle sprinkled on my Melty Triscuit Treats. I figured this out when I was home alone and fixed myself a plate of the little snack squares. I wanted to jazz them up a bit, and, well, there you go…

But, back to that whole trap thing…

So, I sprinkled my Melty Triscuit Treats with ground Chipotle, started them rotating in the microwave, then stepped out for the briefest of moments. As I exited the kitchen, a red blur flew past me on it’s way into said kitchen. I’m sure you can guess the identity of the blur. It’s like she had Melty Triscuit Treats radar or something.

Evil Kat being Evil

Anywho, the microwave squealed that it was finished, all the while joined by the excited clack of stiletto heels as The Redhead danced about in anticipation. A split second later I heard the door of the appliance open, and then… wait for it… the scream.

At first it was sort of a pained yelp, and that was followed by a rather loud, “What The…” Then, Her Worship began demanding my presence via her typical, stern,  “Lackey! Come here, NOW!”

I had to explain what I had done to the Melty Triscuit Treats, as they did not meet with her approval. I muttered something about ill gotten gains, and that’s pretty much the last thing I remember before waking up on the floor with crushed up, Chipotle sprinkled, Melty Triscuit Treats and size 7 E K shoe prints all over me.

I guess that’ll teach me to fix myself a snack, now won’t it?

More to come…

Murv