When we last convened, Hick was cooling his meat in FRIG II, planning to serve it up on Sunday. My duties entailed making garlic bread, assembling individual salads, and nuking some giant potatoes. I knew it would take Hick only 5-10 minutes to heat his meat, but about 30 minutes to complete my own duties.
The filet mignon that Hick bought from a guy out of a trailer on the parking lot of Rural King over in Bill-Paying Town were individually wrapped. Vacuum-packed, like sweaters and quilts by that air-sucking contraption that used to be hawked on late-night TV. The flat back part of the wrap was black, and the bubble part over the meat was clear.
My first hint that something might be off with the filet mignons Hick bought (aside from the VERY FIRST hint, which was hearing where they came from), was when he opened up FRIG II and said, "Oh. I need a paper towel. It leaked."
What in the Not-Heaven! Sealed meat should not be leaking! But off Hick went to Gassy G Jr, to get his grill on.
The Pony acted as a go-between, throwing away the wrappers for Hick, and helping me by handing me stuff from other parts of the kitchen, and keeping us each informed on the progress of our assigned foodstuffs. He set my heart to racing when he came in and said, "Dad needs a knife."
"To cut one and see if they're done right."
"WHAT? You can't cut into meat! It lets the juices run out! Let me guess, he's cutting into MINE, right?"
"I don't know which one he's cutting."
Of course when Hick's meat came in, it was indeed MY filet that had been cut. Twice. The guys got their plates and sat down to eat. I cleared up the kitchen and took my plate down to my lair. Two bites in, I was done. Done with Hick's meat, anyway. It was quite unappealing.
First of all, my filet was shaped like South America. The top measured 2 inches across, and down by Tierra del Fuego, it was 1 inch across. I know filet mignon is a small cut of meat. Hick orders it all the time. At least the ones he gets in a steakhouse are about 3 inches in diameter. And round.
When I cut into my filet, hardly any juices ran out. That's because ALL MY MEAT JUICE RAN OUT IN THE CRACKS OF GASSY G JR! I tried to eat my bargain expensive steak, but I could not chew it! It was like MEAT GUM! Round and round it wallowed in my mouth. Without getting any smaller. I don't really think Hick's grilling was the major problem.
As I'd come down the stairs, I heard The Pony asking Hick what he was spitting out. "Just the fat." Seriously? I would have LOVED to have some fat meat! The Pony later said that Hick picked the fatty one for himself, to give us the better ones. I doubt that. I don't recall filet mignon having fat. That's why it gets wrapped with bacon.
Anyhoo... I called The Pony down and gave him my filet remains. "Give that to Dad." I figured Hick would like having more meat, since the servings were so small, and he had spit out part of his. That milk of human kindness curdled quickly. Hick came storming down the steps, meat in hand.
"What am I supposed to do with THIS?"
"Um. EAT it? I don't want it. I was trying to be nice. But if you want to be that way, give it to the dogs! I don't care what you do with it. I can't eat it."
The Pony apparently ranks higher than the dogs. Hick gave it to him, and The Pony put it in FRIG II for lunch the next day.
When the remaining $25 of Hick's Folly is served up, I won't be touching Hick's meat with a 10-foot pole! I can go vegetarian again for one meal, or make something else.
It's a good thing Hick's friend didn't pick up his meat off the seat of SilverRedO and take a chomp. I also hope the other half of that box of filet mignon didn't go home with Lotus Flower! Chewing Hick's meat might be too strenuous for her...