Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Okay, I’m here,” I reported.
“Tell me from the beginning.”
“You don’t want to hear it from the start. You always get exasperated.”
“I do not.”
“Liar.”
“Fine. I won’t get exasperated, just tell me.”
“You already sound annoyed.”
“Please. I’m begging you. Just tell me.”
“All of it or the condensed version?” I asked him.
“What is the condensed version?”
“That the oven exploded and I almost lost my face.” I replied drolly.
“Yeah, no, not gonna work. Tell me from the beginning.”
“Okay, so basically I had just made a buttermilk pie––”
“I want you to get there faster.”
“That’s not how I do things, and you know this, and you said you wanted to hear it all.”
Long-suffering sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. G’head.”
“Where are you? It sounds weird.”
“I’m in the car, of course, on my way home.”
“I’m not unhappy about that, because it kind of scared me.”
“I know. Now tell me.”
“As I said, I had just made a buttermilk pie, and I turned the oven off. So the oven was indeed off. I need to make that clear. But I was wearing my ice neck thing, you know, the ring I wear to keep myself cool, because it was hot in the kitchen and hot outside and I didn’t want to overheat like I did the day I was outside for too long watering.”
“Of course.”
“As you know, the oven handle on Bertha is messed up.”
“I have been saying for years that Bertha had to go.”
“How is that the point?”
“Why were you even using Bertha?”
“It was easier and closer.”
He groaned.
“Are you listening?”
“Clearly.”
“Do not be snide, Sam.”
“No. Never.”
“Or sarcastic. I’m still a bit flummoxed.”
“Nice word,” he complimented me. “Now go on.”
“Okay, so you know the oven handle gets really loose.”
“I do.”
“Like every second or third day, you have to screw the oven handle back on both ends, and it never really tightens all the way because the screws are stripped.”
“And you won’t let me touch it or––”
“If you interrupt, you’ll be home before you know what happened.”
“Sorry. Go on.”
“I have that perfect little three-inch screwdriver, though, that fits in the space so I can tighten the screws.”
“Yes. It’s blue.”
“It is,” I said, pleased that he remembered that.
“Keep going.”
“Anyway, when I was pulling the pie out of the oven, I noticed the handle was wobbly, so I shut the oven off, closed the door, and put the pie on top of my cooling rack. Then I went to swap out my neck cooler because it wasn’t cold anymore. It was actually liquid by then, so I got a new one. You know I have two so I can do that.”
“Killing. Me.”
“I think I should just wait until you get home so you can just speak to the firemen instead of me and––”
“I’m sorry. I can hear in your voice you’re upset. Please go on.”
I let out a long-suffering sigh before continuing so he could hear how patient I was being. “Okay, so after I went and got a new one, I started getting all the ingredients together for the quesadillas I was going to make for dinner tonight.”
“Okay.”
“But before I was going to start chopping, before I got out the skillet, I thought I should fix the handle on the oven. So I opened the door about five inches, the regular amount I normally do when I’m fixing the handle, and I screwed on the left screw.”
“This is a form of torture in some circles.”
“That’s it, I––”
“Wait. I’m sorry. Please finish.”
“You got exasperated when you said you wouldn’t.”
“I know, forgive me.”
I grunted.
“Please.”
Hard to say no to a please from Sam Kage. “Okay, so when I turned my body to screw on the right one, I don’t know how it happened, but the ice ring, that was mostly frozen, slipped down from around my neck and fell into the oven. And, like, the second, the nanosecond that it hit the bottom of the oven, the oven exploded into blue flames and I almost got my face seared off.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I jerked back and slammed the oven door shut, because again, it was only open about five inches, and the force of the fire whipped the oven door back open, and I had to jump out of the way. It was pretty good, by the way. I’m telling you, my jump was impressive.”
“Love––”
“I ran to get the fire extinguisher, but when I came back and tried to use it, it wasn’t working. I pulled the pin and everything, and you know we just replaced all of them, but that one, I swear to God, was a dud. And the firemen agreed with me when I showed it to them. They suggested we take it back and get a refund.”
“Okay.”
“All right, so I managed to shut the oven door, and then I opened it back up a little bit, and the fire looked like it was down, but I started smelling, like, burning rubber. Not like plastic, but like that awful rubber smell, you know what I mean.”