Food Fight-A Holiday Short Short Story Read online

  Food Fight

  Christina F. York

  Published by Tsunami Ridge Publishing at Smashwords

  Copyright 2010 Christina F. York

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  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://w
ww.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!

 

 

  Christina F. York, Food Fight-A Holiday Short Short Story

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