If you think you’re busted, it’s only a matter of time before you will be
A Dicey Situation
Home Spun Tales
CHOP, CHOP, CHOP. Janice cut the sausage and cheese log into tinier and tinier pieces, pieces so tiny she might as well have dropped the sausage into a blender. And from the look in her eyes, she’d considered it.
Nor did she look at the sausage while she chopped. In fact, she never took her eyes off Bob, who sat at the kitchen table, sipping his evening Scotch and reading the sports page on his iPad. Occasionally he’d glance up and open his mouth to speak, but her glare reduced him to quivering jelly, and he returned to the sports page.
Occasionally Bob would glance up and open his mouth to speak, but Janice’s glare reduced him to quivering jelly, and he returned to the sports page.
When she’d chopped the sausage into pieces so tiny there was nothing large enough for the knife to divide, Janice tossed the mound into a sizzling skillet where the pieces popped, smoked and shriveled into scorched charcoal. Then she took another sausage from the counter and chop, chop, chopped again. This was her third sausage, and two more waited. Next to them lay two cucumbers and a yellow squash.
Bob cleared his throat, but her eyes narrowed, focused not exactly on him, but on his waist, the part of his waist hidden by the table. He swallowed and returned to the box scores. Yes, she had mentioned, when he walked through the door, that she didn’t know he wore Carolina Herrera perfume (which he didn’t, but his assistant Veronica did, as he knew because he bought her a bottle during the conference in Cancun last week). But if that really bothered her, Bob was (almost) certain Janice would say something.
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Wry noir author Phillip T. Stephens wrote Cigerets, Guns & Beer, Raising Hell, the Indie Book Award winning Seeing Jesus, and the children’s book parody Furious George. Follow him at Phillip T Stephens.
