WEIRD & WONKY WORLD WRITING CHALLENGE

Kitchen Catastrophes

         Donna felt the itch tingle in her left cheek and migrate to her nose. Her right hand had just gripped a whisk as she entered the zone, the zone of no return. She was now committed to the first beating and the baking effort was too far gone for a retreat. All that pesky irritant required was a quick swipe and with that solution in mind Donna raised her left arm rubbing it across her face.

         Too late she remembered the plaster cast encircling her fore arm. The abrasive texture stung her surprised skin and she recoiled. With a yelp torn from her quivering lips the whisk clattered to the floor. En route to cup her throbbing visage the right hand collided with the ceramic mixing bowl sweeping it into a shattering crash. Plumes of flour floated in the air.

         Alerted to the excitement in the kitchen, Hank the Tank, a Great Dane able to rest his immense head on the counter, galloped towards Donna. Before she could brace herself or warn the big galoot to stop, Hank skidded in the white puddle. The snuffling, scrabbling canine careened into his mistress' legs sending her crashing to the floor. Dog and would be baker collapsed with resounding twin oomphs.

         Tears glittered and blooming bruises protested, but did Donna succumb to a weeping fit? No. She howled with laughter. The dusty, white, bewhiskered face only inches from her stare whimpered. Two furry ears twitched. A long, pink tongue hovered beneath a glob oozing from a snout. Both fore paws were crossed casually as if Hank had chosen to relax in this very spot and his tail beat a steady tattoo. Poor Hank looks as bewildered as I feel. We're both blinking and gasping.

         Could he be thinking what I'm thinking? Has he noted all of the kitchen skirmishes we've survived? Was it time to wave a white flag, or at least a dish towel in surrender?

         Hank whined and nuzzled her cast-free arm. Since she was still catching her breath, Donna sat and scratched behind his velvety ears. As she expected ,Hank's rear leg spasmed. With each tremor, broken pieces of crockery tinkled from beneath his sizeable rump. He made no effort to move.

         "You really are a gigantic beast, aren't you? I bet you were hoping for a dropped treat to scarf."

         The animal sprawled in her lap sighed in reply, his eyes squeezed shut.

         "You probably don't understand me and you're clearly not seeing what I'm seeing, but I swear there's a dent in that wall across from us. Just up from the baseboard. Is that the result of one of your many attempts to dine and dash? You don't always look before you skedaddle. It's like you forget you entered through a doorway, or you can't recall the exit strategy."

         Donna cracked her neck and flexed a leg. Before she realized what she was doing, a teetering pile of her mixing bowl's remains grew next to her. She smeared the gritty flour in her left palm. A dark stain on the plaster cast caught her eye and she grinned.

         "Oh boy, you tried to lick all of that chocolate from my arm, didn't you? How could I have neglected to secure the lid on the blender? I don't know about you, but that was the first time I witnessed chocolate rain. It sure gushed out in a torrent, eh? I'll never be able to recall that without giggling. You twirled and snapped at the sweet rain drops even as you slipped every which way."

         Donna ruffled Hanks' warm fur and small clouds of white lifted and lingered.

         "I hate to state the obvious, but you're going to need another bath. Me too. I don't suppose you'd consider mopping the floor? No?"

         Donna swiveled her head, but no matter where she gazed the kitchen floor looked as if it had endured yet another explosion.

         "At least this new mess shouldn't be as sticky as the dozen eggs you hip checked from my grasp. Now that felt slimey. Those egg whites slithered and oozed. Not the best way to crack an egg, or two."

Donna's body convulsed with chuckling and Hank stared his disapproval at the disturbance with one open eye.

         She spluttered an apology. "Sorry ol' bean. I'm seeing you hoover up all those hot chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven and crying as you slurped a gallon of water afterwards. You didn't worry about any thirty-second rule, not that most of those treats ever made it to the floor. You saw an opportunity and you went for it."

         Donna tilted her head and surveyed the relaxed canine. She did not hear any snoring and his eye lids fluttered. Could he be pretending to sleep? Those huge ears of his trembled slightly and she still thought of them as sensitive antennas. No, he was listening. He couldn't bear to miss anything.

         "Sometimes, I wonder if you actually had a plan. Did you intend to steal those cookies? Was it meant to be a quick grab, no harm, no foul? Did you become impatient? If I had masterminded that heist I'd have waited for the cookies to cool on the counter first. Were they too irresistible? Should I have expected something and been more alert? I do not recall hearing you enter the kitchen. There are times, sneaky times, when you're on stealth mode. Okay, I will admit I didn't look before I turned from the oven. You were just there blocking my path to the counter. I walked right into you, you brick wall and down I went. It all happened in the blink of an eye. The cookies were flung into the air and I toppled to the floor. That's how I earned this piece of armour."

         Donna rapped her encased left arm. Just her finger tips protruded and she wiggled them.

         She sighed and nudged the Great Dane.

         "Well, Hank, I think we've reminisced long enough and there's still a mess to clean up. As long as we're together there will most certainly be another culinary calamity. I have a favour to ask of you. Could you please wait until you're outside to shake off the flour? When you return I'll rummage for the boxed biscuits to go with our tea. We're not destined to have homemade ones."          1061 words          National Kitchen Klutzes of America Day