CHIP OFF THE OLD BLOCK
Published by Sahara Foley and Pamela Foley at
Smashwords
Copyright 2013 Pamela Foley
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.
++++++++++++
Mike glanced at his watch, three after
one in the afternoon. Tammy, his girlfriend of four years, was
still at work. Mike was a construction worker, and the long, cold,
Nebraska winters found him reading, cooking, or doing anything to
keep him from going stir crazy. So far, this winter had been a long
and harsh one in Omaha.
He cracked another beer, then went back
to studying recipes, He was hungry for baked chicken and was trying
to find a recipe that he wouldn’t botch-up too much. As long as he
had a recipe to follow, or step-by-step directions on a package, he
had a fifty-fifty chance the meal would be edible.
“ Let’s see, two cups of
chopped broccoli and two cups of milk. Uh, and, ah, butter.” He
mumbled to himself, seated at a kitchen table strewn with cooking
books and utensils.
Running his hand through his short
brown hair, he looked up from the recipe. He was finding it
difficult to concentrate today. This was the first nice day of
winter. It was February 18th, and the day was bright sunshine with
a warm fitful breeze. The six inches of old, accumulated snow was
vigorously melting, and icicles were slowly growing from gutters in
long, lumpy lines. The sound of dripping water echoed between the
houses.
Distracted by the bright sun and
promise of spring, Mike opened the window over the kitchen table.
Because they lived in a basement apartment, the windows were only
nineteen inches-high and twenty-six inches wide. The screen-less
windows were placed high on the walls, near the ceiling, and hinged
on the topside. Mike gave a contented smile as he breathed a whiff
of fresh, crisp air. Using a butter knife, he propped the window
open, then sat back at his recipes.
Sipping his beer, he shivered as the
late winter air flowed into the small kitchen. But he didn’t want
to shut the window. Instead, he compromised by shrugging into a
jacket. Like most buildings shut up for five months or more, the
small basement apartment cried out for fresh air. Breathing the
fresh air, he realized how bad the place smelled. It really
stunk!
Setting his mind to the task at hand,
he turned over a bagged, whole chicken lying on the table. The
chicken was thawed, ready to go, and he was calculating the time
needed to bake it, when he heard a scraping noise. Glancing up, he
saw sitting in the open window, a black cat. There wasn’t anything
unusual about the cat being there, as loose cats roamed all over
the neighborhood. But this cat was unusual. The cat regarded him
with large, yellow eyes, and up between its ears he could barely
make out a floppy, black hat. The hat sat atop a mess of scraggly,
white hair, and below the hair Mike noticed two bright, green eyes,
and a small mouth. The green eyes stared down at him, as did the
large, yellow eyes of the cat.
Blinking rapidly in disbelief, Mike
looked down at his recipe books, then over at his opened beer can.
Slightly shaking his head, he glanced back up. The cat was still
there, and worse, so was the floppy hat and small head. All four
eyes were still glued on him. Before Mike could do or say anything,
the cat leaped down on an open spot on the table with a soft
thump.
Backpedaling as fast as he could, Mike
scooted his chair across the narrow room with a spine-tingling
screech, stopping with a bone-jarring smack into the sink! Barely
breathing,
Published by Sahara Foley and Pamela Foley at
Smashwords
Copyright 2013 Pamela Foley
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.
++++++++++++
Mike glanced at his watch, three after
one in the afternoon. Tammy, his girlfriend of four years, was
still at work. Mike was a construction worker, and the long, cold,
Nebraska winters found him reading, cooking, or doing anything to
keep him from going stir crazy. So far, this winter had been a long
and harsh one in Omaha.
He cracked another beer, then went back
to studying recipes, He was hungry for baked chicken and was trying
to find a recipe that he wouldn’t botch-up too much. As long as he
had a recipe to follow, or step-by-step directions on a package, he
had a fifty-fifty chance the meal would be edible.
“ Let’s see, two cups of
chopped broccoli and two cups of milk. Uh, and, ah, butter.” He
mumbled to himself, seated at a kitchen table strewn with cooking
books and utensils.
Running his hand through his short
brown hair, he looked up from the recipe. He was finding it
difficult to concentrate today. This was the first nice day of
winter. It was February 18th, and the day was bright sunshine with
a warm fitful breeze. The six inches of old, accumulated snow was
vigorously melting, and icicles were slowly growing from gutters in
long, lumpy lines. The sound of dripping water echoed between the
houses.
Distracted by the bright sun and
promise of spring, Mike opened the window over the kitchen table.
Because they lived in a basement apartment, the windows were only
nineteen inches-high and twenty-six inches wide. The screen-less
windows were placed high on the walls, near the ceiling, and hinged
on the topside. Mike gave a contented smile as he breathed a whiff
of fresh, crisp air. Using a butter knife, he propped the window
open, then sat back at his recipes.
Sipping his beer, he shivered as the
late winter air flowed into the small kitchen. But he didn’t want
to shut the window. Instead, he compromised by shrugging into a
jacket. Like most buildings shut up for five months or more, the
small basement apartment cried out for fresh air. Breathing the
fresh air, he realized how bad the place smelled. It really
stunk!
Setting his mind to the task at hand,
he turned over a bagged, whole chicken lying on the table. The
chicken was thawed, ready to go, and he was calculating the time
needed to bake it, when he heard a scraping noise. Glancing up, he
saw sitting in the open window, a black cat. There wasn’t anything
unusual about the cat being there, as loose cats roamed all over
the neighborhood. But this cat was unusual. The cat regarded him
with large, yellow eyes, and up between its ears he could barely
make out a floppy, black hat. The hat sat atop a mess of scraggly,
white hair, and below the hair Mike noticed two bright, green eyes,
and a small mouth. The green eyes stared down at him, as did the
large, yellow eyes of the cat.
Blinking rapidly in disbelief, Mike
looked down at his recipe books, then over at his opened beer can.
Slightly shaking his head, he glanced back up. The cat was still
there, and worse, so was the floppy hat and small head. All four
eyes were still glued on him. Before Mike could do or say anything,
the cat leaped down on an open spot on the table with a soft
thump.
Backpedaling as fast as he could, Mike
scooted his chair across the narrow room with a spine-tingling
screech, stopping with a bone-jarring smack into the sink! Barely
breathing,
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