Archives for #266 Marilyn’s Face

#266 Marilyn’s Face

#266 Marilyn’s Face


#266 Marilyn’s Face


“I know one thing baby.”

“What’s that?”

“You aren’t gonna be around to see Santa Claus this year.”

“How do you know?” Marilyn asked just before I fixed it so she couldn’t say another word. I’m good at shutting up women who get on my nerves. This bitch had the nerve to ask me to cook Christmas dinner. I’d cook dinner all right. Her family would show up on Christmas Day, and I’d have dinner ready for them.

I went shopping for dinner stuff. Got potatoes, green beans, stuffing mix, and plenty of beer. Oh yeah, got plenty of meat tenderizer and seasoning too. I’d bake some meat pies for desert. Marilyn would have been proud of me if she could have seen the sumptuous meal I planned for her family.

Christmas Day came. Marilyn’s Mom, sister, sister’s husband and their three kids showed up for dinner.

“Where’s Marilyn?” her Mom wanted to know.

“Don’t worry, she’s busy cooking, but she’ll be showing her face before dinners over.”

“I sure hope so. I’ve got her present right here.” Her Mom held up an envelope. It would hold a twenty dollar bill. Same present every year since we got married.

I served mashed potatoes, veggies, and set a tray of roasted meat swimming in brown gravy on the table. They all piled their plates high with food and ate. I set some cold beer on the table.

“This meat is delicious,” her sister’s husband said.

“Sure is,” her Mom said. “Marilyn should be here eating this because she’s so skinny.”

“You know the old saying,” I said. “The closer to the bone, the sweeter the meat.”

“It sure is sweet,” Marilyn’s sister said. She chewed on a piece of meat for a minute. “Did you use the same meat in your meat pies?”

“Sure did. Save room because the meat in the pies got  scraped off the bones and is the sweetest you ever tasted.”

I cleared the dishes and brought out two meat pies. Dished out a piece to everyone. The satisfied looks around the table told me it tasted good.

“Can I have another piece?” Joey, Marilyn’s nephew asked. “It’s really good pie.”

“Sure is,” the sister’s husband said. “I’ll take another piece too.”

“I want to know where Marilyn is?” her Mom said. “You said she’d show her face before we finished dinner.”

“She’ll be here soon. Let me set up my camera so I can take a picture of the entire family when she arrives.” I arranged them all on one side of the table so I’d capture their expressions when they saw Marilyn. I set the camera’s timer to go off when they saw her. Rushing into the kitchen, I pulled the last pie out of the refrigerator. The one I had stretched Marilyn’s face across after filling it with her meat.