A couple weeks ago I had lunch with my favorite gambling aunt, over at The FelineFish Skillet. I brought home quite a spread of our leftovers for Hick to sup on. I figured I could get at least two nights off from cooking. After all, I had a stack of containers containing:
[I packed up two rectangular foam containers with 2 pieces of catfish, about a dozen shrimp, 1 chicken strip (for ME to have tomorrow), a pile of wedge fries (because they were cold when we got them), mashed potatoes, three hush puppies, and two tubs of tartar sauce. I had three round foam containers that I filled with slaw, baked beans, and the pickles/onions. They have some crunchy bacon-striped pork rinds that they put out when you are waiting, and I put them in a plastic sack. Auntie wanted me to take the tubs of butter as well, but I didn't want to be a hog.]
Long story short, Hick ate all of it the first night.
When I went to the kitchen to plug in my phone for charging at 3:00 a.m., my sock feet stuck to the burgundy-patterned linoleum. "That's weird," I said right out loud. Because I can talk to myself all I want at 3:00 a.m. in the privacy of my own kitchen. "My feet didn't stick to the floor when I got the dogs' evening snacks ready. I was in my socks then, too, because I took off my walking shoes to let my feet air out a minute before putting on my Crocs to go out on the porch." Sometimes, my self-conversations contain too much information.
I went to bed, making a mental note to ask Hick about the floor. I knew he would wake me at 5:50 a.m. as he was getting ready to leave for work. No reason. He just does. This time it gave me the window I needed for his interrogation.
"Did you spill something on the kitchen floor last night?"
"Did I spill anything on the kitchen floor last night?" (Repeating the question. Never a good sign for the defense.)
"Yeah. Did you spill something on the kitchen floor last night?"
"No. I don't think I did."
"Oh, so you don't THINK you did. But you might have."
"I guess I could have, and didn't know it."
"Over by the sink area? My socks stuck to the floor. Something sticky was all over it."
"Oh. Well. My plate flipped over when I was taking it to the trash. But it was in front of the stove."
"So you DID spill something on the floor last night."
"No. My plate was empty. All I had on it was some slaw juice. And I wiped that up."
"With WHAT?"
"A paper towel and water from the sink."
"Oh. That must be it. You smeared the slaw juice all around. I'll use some soap later."
"But I cleaned it up! With water."
"Yeah, yeah. Go to work."
When I got up and went to the kitchen, IN MY BARE FEET, in the hours before Croc time...my foot stepped on something squishy right in front of the stove.
Yeah. That's a floor onion. A limp floor onion that's been laying there all night. Looks like Hick had a little more on his flipped-over plate that he didn't spill anything from before he wiped the floor with a paper towel and water.
Hick has a penchant for telling me what he wants me to hear. It's not the first time. Nor is it the 12th. There's not a song long enough to devote to all the Days of Hickness.
Val--For goodness sake, he smeared and spread the mess all over the floor. With water. And a paper towel. Give him a break.
ReplyDelete(And I guess you even expect him to throw away the paper towel?)
He threw it away to hide the evidence. Not because it was the right thing to do. He actually thought his "not remembering" if he spilled anything would work, and a used paper towel would have given him away. Still, on trial, he would be putty in the prosecution's hands.
DeleteI have never done anything like that and I always tell Mrs. C everything and I always clean up if I do spill anything which I never ever do which if I did I would admit that I did but I never do so...
ReplyDeleteAre you saying that you're not guilty & you'll never do it again?
DeleteHe's saying he's too busy using the vegetable brush to scrub the dishes, and using the kitchen scissors outside the kitchen, and looking for Mrs. C's snacks to have time for spilling anything.
DeleteExactly!
DeleteEwww! That's why I don't walk barefoot in my kitchen.
ReplyDeleteLet the record show that I only walk barefoot in the kitchen in the morning, before my shower, because afterwards I put on my black crew socks and red run-down Crocs.
DeleteMy honey replaces the paper towels, and he too will eat every morsel, and even find what I hide. He's a winner, too.
ReplyDeleteWell, then. You understand that line Jennifer Love Hewitt says to her movie mother Sigourney Weaver in the often-inappropriate comedy, "Heartbreakers," when she tells her, concerning her boyfriend Jason Lee..."There IS only one man in the world."
DeleteI imagine many a husband tells his wife what her wants to hear. I'm guilty of this.
ReplyDeleteI don't think Hick was using that tactic the time he told me that my skirt reminded him of a circus tent.
DeleteHe used water WITH the paper towel. My lawd, that guy could work in one of them fancy sterilized laboratories
ReplyDeleteFor a man, Hick IS fairly advanced. Most days, he can even stay conscious without me telling him to "breathe in, breathe out."
DeleteI am torn. On the one hand it is impressive that Hick would employ ticks of psychology (answering a question with a question. Then he tries to cover up his crime in such a sloppy fashion. Reminds me of someone I know ......
ReplyDeleteI'm pretty sure there's some matching DNA.
Delete