Feel The Burn

The sound from the kitchen was chilling. A high pitched, angry caterwauling that sent Chandler slinking off to hide in my office. "Dinner is ruined! It's fucking ruined! Why didn't you tell me you smelled the beef burning? Goddammit, goddammit sonfabitch!", the he-witch in the kitchen screamed out to me. Well, the simple answer is that I didn't smell anything burning, and I happen to know better than to wander into the kitchen while Mark is cooking and get in his way. I have learned over the years, that to get too close to Mark while he is creating one of his masterpieces, is like messing with a rattle snake. Before you realize it, he is spitting and snapping at you, demanding you "Get the hell out of my kitchen!" So at this point I couldn't figure out if I should run, or go in there and try to calm things down. "Oh sure, you asshole, just sit out there and ignore me!", Mark yelled. I realized I should run.

I know that it sounds like Mark walks on water in the kitchen from the way I write about him, but he does stumble once in a while and screws things up. That's how he learns. His bad mood today was brought on earlier this afternoon by Paula Deen. For the second time Mark had followed a recipe from one of her cook books, only to have it fail miserably. He was making some kind of super fattening, sugar and lard filled cookie, and instead of turning out like the beautiful photo in the cook book, they came out of the oven as flat little patties. That brought on his first tirade of the day, where he cursed "that stupid, hillbilly, bitch", and swore she never baked anything that she put in her cook books. So by the time dinner burned, Mark was on a hair trigger, and since Paula Deen doesn't live with us he decided to take it out on me. The funny thing is that even though he burned the beef for the stew he was making, it still came out even better than the beef stew that he usually makes. It was delicious. You know, maybe he can walk on water in that kitchen.