Food Fight-A Holiday Short Short Story

Food Fight

Christina F. York

Published by Tsunami Ridge
Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Christina F.
York

Smashwords Edition, License
Notes

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Food Fight

Christina F. York

"Honey, how do you like the
candied yams? I made them special for you." Lori wiped her forehead
with the back of her hand, pushing her bangs to one side. The
fatigue and stress were evident in the quaver in her voice. It was
important that everything be perfect.

It had been a long,
nerve-wracking day, the first holiday meal she had cooked on her
own. The table was set with their best dishes, everything was done,
even the pumpkin pie cooling on the counter between the kitchen and
the dining nook.

Greg paused, a forkful of
mashed potatoes and gravy dripping onto the turkey on his plate.
"They're OK. Pretty good, actually, but not like my mom made them.
She always put orange juice in the glaze, and ..."

"Not like my mom made?"
Lori's voice rose an octave. "Not like my mom made?" She was
screaming now. "Look at the mess in the kitchen. I've been working
for
hours
to make
our first Christmas really special, and all you can say is 'not
like my mom made'? Well, then maybe we better not eat them." She
took the cover off the casserole dish of yams, and dumped the
contents onto the tile floor. "Maybe you should just go get
yourself a hamburger."

"For heaven's sake,
sweetheart, there's no reason to come unglued! They weren't the
same as mom's, but they were alright. Look at the mess you made.
You're being unreasonable. Now come on sit down and eat something.
You'll feel better."

"Don't patronize me,
Gregory Rose! I hate that gee-you're-cute-when-you're-mad
bullshit." She turned away, huffing toward the kitchen, and nearly
tripping over Bones, the Scotty she'd had since high
school.

Greg hesitated, then picked
up a roll from the basket on the table. Ten years of Little League
paid off, as he pegged Lori in the back of the head. The soft bread
bounced off onto the floor. Bones grabbed it and retreated under
the table to enjoy his booty.

Lori whirled around, eyes
blazing. "Funny man, you are gonna be sorry." She reached the table
in two long strides, and emptied the basket of rolls over Greg's
head. Then she topped them with the dish of cranberry-orange
relish.

"Why'd you do that? There's
cranberries all over my shirt, and in my hair." He fished a handful
of sweet glop out of his shirt pocket and dropped it on top of the
yams, which Bones was devouring. Greg scooped up a handful of
mashed potatoes, leaving cranberry streaks in the fluffy white
mounds, and dropped them down the front of Lori's shirt. "Here, how
about a little gravy with that?"

Before he could pour, Lori
knocked the ladle from his hand, sending an arc of gravy spatters
across the wall. Greg picked up the potato bowl. "Oh, is that where
you want 'em?" He flung the potatoes along the same arc as the
gravy. Lori responded by pouring the remaining gravy on Greg's
shoes. Bones abandoned the potatoes and licked rapidly at the gravy
lake on the floor.

Greg grabbed the stuffing
bowl, and shoved the serving spoon in his mouth. "This is
really
good," he mumbled
with his mouth full. "But it's not at all like mother's, so out it
goes!" He jerked the bowl upwards, and watched the contents splat
against the ceiling before joining the rest of the food on the
floor. Corn, peas, olives and sweet pickles were added in rapid
succession. Neither Greg nor Lori spoke as they pelted each other
with vegetables. Neither dared touch the turkey, but Lori had one
more bit of ammunition.

Stepping around the
waist-high divider into the splattered kitchen, she picked up the
pumpkin pie that was cooling on the counter.

"No!" After the speechless
minutes, Greg's voice shocked her. She hesitated, arm half-cocked,
ready to give him the old pie-in-the-face routine. Gary's mouth
fought with a grin, losing as he finally blurted, "You forgot the
whipped cream!"

Lori stared as Greg
struggled to suppress his amusement. What was so damned funny, she
wondered? Their first Christmas was ruined. She had worked so hard,
tried so hard to make it memorable. Well, it
would
be memorable. Her arm relaxed,
as she looked at Greg, hair sticky with cranberries, gravy on his
feet, a sweet pickle caught in the neck of his shirt. What a mess!
Her lips started to twitch, then broke into a broad smile as she
unleashed the pie, and a whoop of laughter at the same time. Greg
ducked, the pie crashed into the wall behind him, then dropped onto
Bones who was too busy eating to notice until it was too
late.

Greg laughed then, too. The
little Scotty peered up from under his coat of soft brown custard,
evidently waiting for the next load of manna from heaven. Looking
at his eager face, Lori laughed harder. Greg picked his way through
the debris, to take his gasping wife in his arms. They leaned on
each other and whooped and chortled 'til tears ran down their
cheeks and they had to hold each other up.

"Look at this. Will
you
ever
be able
to forget our first Christmas?" Lori gasped.

"Never. Uh, I don't think
we're going to have this for dinner." Greg waved an arm around the
room. "How about we clean up some," he fished mashed potatoes from
the front of her shirt, "and go get something to eat? I'm kinda
hungry after all that exercise."

Lori nodded. Working
together, they cleared the table, wiped the walls, and finally
interrupted Bones' feast so they could clean the floor.

The hamburgers weren't like
mom used to make, but they were the best Greg had ever
tasted.

Afterword from the
author:

Our local writers' workshop
has a Christmas tradition: the last meeting before the holiday
break, we each read aloud a story of 1000 words or less. Each year
we pick a different theme, and the stories must somehow relate to
that theme.

In this particular year,
the theme was "Holiday Food." I took it a personal challenge to
involve the entire traditional Christmas dinner, and I hope that I
succeeded.

About the
author:

Christina F. York is a
native of the Pacific Northwest. She writes across several genres,
including SF, fantasy, romance, and mystery, sometimes in
collaboration with husband J. Steven York, whose Christmas stories
are also available free from Tsunami Press through
Smashwords.

Email Chris at
[email protected]
,
or follow her on Facebook (Christina York) or Twitter
(@christinafyork)

Look for more great books
at
WWW.TsunamiRidge.com

If you liked this book, try
some of Christina's other books:

DORY COVE

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/20064

Penny Martin swore long ago
she'd never date a fisherman, even if it meant a break up with high
school sweetheart Davey Grant. Davey, injured at sea, needs a
nurse, and Penny agrees - just to help an old friend.

Drawn back into Davey's
world, Penny struggles to break free. But which is stronger, her
fear of the ocean and what it does to the men who fish it, or her
attraction to Davey?

And short
stories:

A Day at the Unicorn
Races

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/20265

Bubbles lives her dream as
a successful unicorn jockey.

The upside? Fame, fortune,
and a job she loves.

Downside? Enforced
celibacy.

Unicorns, after all, can
only be ridden by virgins.

So what's a girl to do when
she falls in love?

Fortress of
Solitude

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/21710

When one door closes,
another opens, or so they say. So why am I sitting behind a locked
door in the laundry room, wondering how I got here? When is that
other door going to open? And what will I find behind
it?

Loves Me Knot

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/21642

Franklin Phillips loved one woman all his life. But young
love, like roses, needs care. Without it, love can be lost for
years, or decades. But just like the roses, love can flower once
again. All it takes in some pruning and a little TLC.

Look for more books and
stories from Christina, coming soon!