by Brenda Obert

Created on: August 07, 2008

The Turkey

It was supposed to be easy. However, cooking a complete turkey dinner was next to impossible in Chuck's tiny apartment. She stood in the middle of the small kitchen, tears rolling down her cheeks. The turkey was half-cooked, and she just realized she forgot to stuff it. Oops! When she put the pumpkin pies in the oven under the turkey, she didn't know the crust would be burnt on the bottom and the pie half-baked on the top. While she was scrambling to get the pies out of the oven and open the window to keep the smoke to a minimum, the potatoes boiled over, and when she grabbed for the pan, she burned her hand. She now had an ice cube clutched in her hand surveying the chaos with despair, contemplating the recipe for giblet gravy. Just what was a "giblet"?

When her boyfriend invited her to his family's Thanksgiving dinner, she accepted without question. She and Chuck had been dating about three months, and her excitement at being asked to meet his parents and to spend a holiday with them almost overwhelmed her. This meant Chuck was committed to taking their relationship to the next level. At the present, her level of frustration was being tested. After her excitement over the invitation had subsided somewhat, Chuck had surprised her with the news that the whole family would celebrating at Chuck's apartment, and she could give him a hand helping with the dinner. Although cooking was not her strong suit, she had caved in when he told her it would be easy. Yesterday he had called to say he had bought all the groceries, but he had to meet a client early in the morning, and she should just let herself in and get started.

"Don't wait for me." He'd said, "I may get held up, and we don't want to disappoint everyone with a cold turkey." Then he'd laughed at his little (very little) joke.

Where was he? She hadn't seen him when she came in. He hadn't come home. He hadn't called. His family would be arriving soon. Dinner was a disaster. What was she going to do?

Just then, she heard the key in the lock. The door opened and in walked Chuck, a smile on his face and one hand behind his back. He smiled and began walking toward her; he stopped, sniffed the air, and frowned. "What's that smell, Hon? Is something burning?"

She turned and stomped into the kitchen. Chuck followed. He paused and the door. "What happened here?"

This is the Thanksgiving dinner we were supposed to make together that was supposed to be so easy. The pies are burned; the turkey is unstuffed; and I don't

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