The Home Cookin' Affair
All parents make mistakes. It's a fact of life that's unavoidable. But one has to wonder about some of those mistakes. And some of those can be real humdingers, too.
It had started when Napoleon suggested a weekend away from the kids. Seemed like a good idea at the time. All the arrangements had been made. The cabin up at the lake near Niagara Falls had been secured, as well as all the loose ends tied up at Headquarters. Nothing of any great importance was going on there. The weather forecast was predicting sunshine with highs in the upper 70's, with a light breeze and the lows in the lower 50's. It was definitely the perfect weekend to go. Just one minor detail remained. Who would stay with the kids?
It was Mona's weekend off, so she had already made plans. No problem, Lynda thought. So, she called Mama Jackie. As it turned out, he didn't have anything planned and volunteered to be the keeper of the dungeon.
They left on Friday afternoon, right after lunch. Mama Jackie had everything under control that evening, ordering Chinese takeout and letting the kids stay up until almost midnight, watching the "Porky's" movies. (Not hard to figure out why the kids liked it when Gramdma, as they called him, stayed overnight.)
Saturday started out innocently enough. Grandma made homemade blueberry nut bread, let the kids sleep in until almost 10. He even let Maggie have coffee with her breakfast. Napoleon had called home to make sure the house was still standing around noon.
Around 4, things changed. Mama Jackie was going to start up the grill out on the patio. Of course, Maggie was right there when it started, asking "What's for dinner?"
"There's some spareribs in the fridge, ready and waiting," he answered. He was decked out in a big chef's hat and a big apron over his white polo and pressed khakis.
She looked up at the sky, which was starting to cloud over. Big, blue-black clouds were looming. "It looks like it's going to rain, Grandma. You might want to fix those ribs in the oven."
Mama Jackie turned on the gas. "I think we might be able to do this before it rains. Besides, I've got potatoes in the oven. There's not enough room."
Maggie shook her head and turned to go back inside. "I'm calling Mommy home. I don't think you know what you're doing."
"At least I didn't have a fourteen-pound turkey fly though the house on Thanksgiving after the oven exploded," he replied with a wink.
A few minutes later, while the grill was still warming up, a few raindrops started falling. Mama Jackie was sitting in a wrought iron chair by the table, enjoying a glass of ice water (imported from Texas, that is.) "Okay," he said to nobody in particular as he felt the drops start falling. "I guess it's Plan B." He got up to shut off the grill and noticed the gas had run out of the tank. "Oh well."
Amy came out, asking "You're not going to cook those ribs in the rain, are you?"
"Not today. I've run out of gas," he answered. An idea hit him. "Amy, run out to the garage and bring me my flame thrower."
Her mouth fell open. "Flame thrower?" she asked. "For what?"
"Ya'll want ribs tonight?" he asked.
"Yeah, but we don't want you to burn the house down, either."
"Now, have I ever burned the house down before?"
She shook her head. "No, but there was the time you got stuck in the chimney on Christmas Eve and the fire department had to come get you out before you got smoked to death like a Virginia ham."
"Go get the flame thrower."
A few minutes later, after another glass of Texas well water, Mama Jackie was feeling no pain at all. Maggie was upstairs in her room, on the telephone. "Ya'll need to fly," she was saying as Amy sat on the edge of the bed. "Gramdma Jackie's drunk, the gas ran out of the grill and he sent Amy for the flame thrower so he could cook spareribs."
On the other end, Lynda was trying to stay calm. "We'll be there in about another five minutes," she tried to reassure her. "Where's your brother?"
"At Aunt Brenda's, playing video games."
"Okay. You and Amy get the cat and go over there. Stay put until we get there." She looked over at Napoleon, who was driving and asked after noticing the speedometer. "Are we really going at a hundred and thrity?"
"Very cute," he answered. "I knew this was a bad idea. I tried to tell you."
"Who else would we get at the last minute after you decided to plan this excursion?" she asked.
Over the phone, Maggie butted in. "Ya'll quit bickering and act like semi-responsible adults."
Both Napoleon and Lynda burst out laughing. "Semi-responsible?" he asked. "What's that?"
"What are you asking me for?" Lynda quipped. "I haven't even gotten the hang of this adult business."
She put the phone back to her ear. "Just do as I say and nobody will get hurt when we get there. Capiche?"
Maggie didn't say anything else. She simply hung up and looked at her sister. "Grab Claude and go to Brenda's. I'm staying here."
"Okay." She got up and started for the door. "Where is Claude?"
"Try Mom and Dad's room. He was on top of the bed earlier." She scooted out the door behind her sister and went downstairs.
In the kitchen, Mama Jackie was getting the ribs out of the fridge. He had the boom box on that was on the counter and was listening to some Ronnie Milsap. He was singing along with the song, loudly and off-key. He laid the ribs out on the counter and got out his special barbecue sauce. He added a little bit of whiskey to the mix and started stirring.
Withing five minutes, the Lamborghini came roaring up the driveway and stopped in front of the house. Both Napoleon and Lynda leaped from the car and ran up the steps. "Thank God," Lynda sighed. "No smoke."
"Yet," Napoleon took a deep breath as he threw open the front door and quickly ran through the foyer, shouting "Jacques! Where in Hell are you?"
Maggie had just run into the kitchen, begging "Don't even think about it."
"What?" Mama Jackie had his goggles on and had just finished laying out the smothered ribs onto a wire rack on top of the counter and was getting ready to start up the flame thrower. "You might want to get out for a while." he warned.
Maggie turned around and fled the scene, almost knocking down Napoleon in the process. "Oh thank God. He's crazy. He's got the flame thrower!" she was screeching.
Lynda ran over and grabbed her. "It's alright," she replied, swooping her up and running through the house toward the front door. "I'm gonna kill him!"
Napoleon was within three feet of the door when a burst of flame shot through. He ducked and covered his head as the door flew past. As quick as it came, it went and it was over. All but the thick, heavy black smoke pouring through the dining room. The walls that had been covered with ivory wallpaper were now sooted up. The mahoghany furniture, the matching china hutch and buffet, were all covered.
He raised his head up and looked rather sickened by the sight. He got to his feet and walked into the disaster area that was once the kitchen, to see Mama Jackie standing there, covered with smoke from head to toe. "Are the ribs ready?" he asked.
"They're done," Mama Jackie answered. "You really need to check the tank on the grill, Napoleon. It ran out on me."
He waslked in and surveyed the damage as he heard the wailing of fire trucks. It was, in short, destroyed. "Remind me not to ask your over for our next dinner party."
"At least I never had a fourteen-pound turkey fly through the house on Thanksgiving," he retorted.
Napoleon managed a chuckle. "At least I didn't burn up the kitchen with a flame thrower while drunk."
Two firemen came running into the kitchen, decked out in full regalia and dragging a hose. "What happened this time, Mr. Solo?" the senior one of the two asked.
"Er," he started, "never let a drunk lawyer near a flame thrower."
The younger one of the two looked at that large mass strangely. "Mr. DeBeauharnais? It's not Christmas yet. Did you get tired of trying to climb down the chimney?"
"I was trying to fix dinner for the grandkids. It started raining, the gas ran out on the grill and I already had the other stuff in the oven," he explained. "I had the windows open."
"Next time, use the flame thrower outside," Napoleon groaned as he walked outside onto the porch. He sat down on the front steps with Lynda and Maggie and looked rather drained. "All I wanted was a quiet weekend away from everything," he started. "Next time, we're taking the kids and leaving them with Morgan."
"Yuck," Maggie made a face. "She's so boring."
"She doesn't have time," Lynda protested. "She's in med school. When is she supposed to have time?"
"You could've called Jason."
"Oh right. Another good idea. Just one problem: he's in Houston."
"Would ya'll quit?" Maggie butted in. "You're sounding like children."
Brenda came walking across the yard from the other side of the pond, asking "How was your trip?"
"Lovely," Lynda replied. She then told Brenda about Mama Jackie's stunt.
Brenda sat down. "We would've took the kids. All either of you had to do was ask."
"You've got your hands full as it is," Napoleon answered. "The boys alone need an exorcist."
"We've been looking," she retorted. "We just haven't been able to find one brave enough yet."
"How bad is the kitchen?" Lynda asked.
"Bad." Napoleon sighed. "The dining room, too."
Mama Jackie came out, a trail of smoke following. "Anyone got a cigarette?"
