Mac & Cheese - A Short Story

Mac & Cheese

By Anna Rose

Mac & Cheese Copyright © 2012 by Anna Rose

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Sumaire Press

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Author’s Note

This bit of fluff came to be one day when it was raining outside and I was feeling a bit moody. I must say, it really helped to lighten my mood considerably. Hope it helps yours, too!  Bon appetit!

~~~

As I ate my dinner, I could not help but go over the day’s events in my mind.

I had warned Frank about my mood during That Time of the month. Repeatedly. That was the main reason he was not eating with me tonight. I just could not take it anymore and had snapped.

You would think that after twenty five years of marriage, he would have figured out that I was not the most pleasant person to be with when Aunt Flo was here for her monthly visit. When the blood comes, that is when my claws come out and my fangs erupt. I am really not a nice person at that time.

Of course, a lot of women are like that. I’ve been part of women’s groups who have discussed the subject ad nauseum. I have heard of many marriages ending because men Just Did Not Get It.

Frank was no exception.

  

Captain Stupid just had to stand on my last nerve. It was what he was best at, really. The man could win awards as an honorary blond. Sometimes, I even found myself wondering why I fell in love with him in the first place. I came to the conclusion that it was because he was so good in bed and he was the only guy I had gone out with who my parents had really liked.

The kids were grown and had long been gone from our home, both of them successful women in their fields, so it was not as though I was staying with him for the sake of the children.  Truly, the only reason I had not gotten a divorce is that even though I am non-practicing, I was raised a Roman Catholic and just cannot get over the idea that divorce is a sin.

Bitching about my cooking is a sure way to get my dander up at the best of times…but when I am on the rag, you are taking your life into your own hands. Frank should have known that when macaroni and cheese is the one item on the menu, I am probably not thinking very clearly and that a wide berth should be kept.

How many of you have been with a guy who cannot seem to get that you want to be left alone at certain times? Who have not figured out that there are times that silence is indeed golden, and that shutting the hell up is the better part of valor? Lots, I am sure.

As I have gotten older, I have found that my periods have been getting more and more uncomfortable. The ache goes down to my bones and over the past few years, I can barely stand straight when I am menstruating, and with each month, it gets worse. Ibuprofen does not work for me at all, despite what my gynecologist has suggested, but then, I suppose I should be brighter than to listen to a man tell me about what will work for a woman’s body. Silly me.

So, anyway, I’m standing…well, crouching, really, at the stove, waiting for the noodles to finish boiling and then Frank comes into the kitchen, big as life and nosy as hell. As soon as he sees what is on the menu, he starts complaining about it.

It is like he just cannot help himself.

“Look, Frank, if you want something different, you can always take me out or order in,” I tell him in what I think is a reasonable tone. I do not even know why I made the suggestion, as his response is always predictable.

His response is that he does not think we should spend money frivolously and that I should be able to make a big meal with what is around the house.

Just like everyone else, the recession has hit us hard and money is tight. I think the last time we ate out was over six months ago. Instead, my cupboard sports half a case of macaroni and cheese, some tins of tuna, peanut butter, popcorn and whatnot. There is some freezer-burned hamburger in the back of the freezer, but it really does not appeal to me. I cannot remember when we bought it, and that makes it even less appetizing. Frank insists that since it is frozen, it does not have an expiration date.

He would probably very happily dine on the remains of a wooly mammoth that was found in a glacier if he had the opportunity, and I told him so.

“Well, if it’s been frozen the whole time, it’s not like it’s going to go bad,” is his reply.

I think he is insane.

You know, thinking about it, I do not remember the last time we went out to see a movie. Frank is under the mistaken impression that ordering DVDs to come in the mail is the same thing as seeing it in a movie theater.

Wrong!

I really have no desire to see him slouched in his recliner in his dirty from the day’s work tank shirt, slurping down a beer and shoveling microwave popcorn into his mouth. Movies are supposed to be an escape from the worries of the day for a time, and that includes one’s own home.

He quite obviously does not get this.

Also, at some unknown time, Frank came under the mistaken impression that I am some sort of short order cook, and that I should cook whatever the hell he thinks I should. I let out a sharp bark of laughter.

“Frank, you bleed like a stuck pig for several days in a row and tell me you’re going to be on your best game! You’re lucky I can stand this well.”

I was treated to a long discourse on the many times he had hurt himself over the years, but carried on, showing not a sign that he was in fact bleeding to death. Funny, but his idea of bleeding to death is my idea of a scratch. Are all men so pathetically dramatic? I was beginning to think so.

I growled at Frank to get out of the kitchen and leave me alone, but he persisted. He just would not leave well enough alone. He really seemed determined to get my hackles up and was not going to stop dogging me until he had finally got me to truly lose my temper.

“Frank, I mean it. Get. Out. Now. I’ll bring you your dinner when it’s done cooking!”

He responded that he wanted me to make something else, that he was not going to eat the macaroni and cheese. He sounded remarkably like my little sister’s son, Bobby, whining that he was not getting what he wanted.

Keep in mind that my little sister’s boy is four years old, and that Frank was a man of fifty five. He was standing on my last nerve and even that one was becoming very frayed.

It was only a matter of time before I tore him a new one.

It felt good, really good.  The shock on his face as I did it was like icing on the cake for me.  Delicious!

I slurped down the last chunk of raw, cooling meat and carefully licked the blood and cheese from my paws with relish.

Well, this was sure a hell of a lot better than just good old macaroni and cheese.




About the Author:
Anna Rose is the author of "Siofra", the first book in the Sumaire Web series of books.  It can be found at Amazon.com and will soon be released in the iTunes store as well!