Friday, December 18, 2015

Free Fiction: Holiday Delight





“Hot sauce one?”


“Hot sauce two?”


“Chicken wings?”


“Secret ingredient?”

Phillip sighed. “You know, other people make cookies for the holidays. Not hot wings.”

Oscar paused in his reading over the handwritten recipe he had tweaked through the years. The pencil marks were faded, some ingredients were written in, others scratched out, and the paper’s corners were soft, bent, or missing, but the recipe still remained viable. “Other people are silly and sentimental.”

“But that’s what Christmas is—“

Oscar held up a hand. “I do not hold with that sort of frivolity. Spicy chicken wings are what is called for at this time of the year. Not gooey cookies, not fudgy pies, not figgy pudding, or whatever it is that everyone makes.”

Phillip rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. He heard this every year. It was getting to be almost a set play. Oscar wound himself up, making his protests grander each year, until he sounded like he made proclamations. Phillip loved playing the part of disbeliever and devil’s advocate. “But everyone loves cookies.”

“Everyone will love these wings. Now,” Oscar said. “Secret ingredient?”

“Check,” said Phillip. “Shall I stay and be your sous chef, or do you want me to leave you to your own devices in the kitchen?”

Oscar placed a quick kiss on Phillip’s cheek. “Stay, of course,” he said, breaking his pompous attitude down into his naturally warm personality. “Keep me company.” It almost seemed as if his eyes twinkled before he reverted back to his puffed up posture. “And gaze upon the magnificence that will be created.”

“Oh, brother!” Phillip said.

“Now, where’s the ceramic mixing bowl? I don’t think they turn out as well when I use the metal one. Something to do with the acids, I’m sure.”

“Right here.” Phillip opened a cupboard and pulled out the bowl. Before handing it over he leaned out his cheek. “Pay up first.”

Oscar bestowed a soft kiss on the corner of Phillip’s mouth. “There.” He took the bowl. “Now, where is the whisk?”

Phillip grinned. “That’s gonna cost you more.”

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