THE WAY IT IS

It was thankgiving morning and the sound of a couple arguing about the amount of ingredients that was required for a recipe could be heard through out the brownstone single family house in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn. Amidst the ambiance of the couple's dispute, 70's soul music can be heard echoing through the halls of the dinning room area.

"Good damn woman that's too much seasoning salt you putting on the the meat, you really want your blood pressure to go up like these price of gas." Mr. Morgan says.

" Listen you do what works for you and I will do what works for me" Mrs. Morgan replies sarcastically.

"Okay when your heart stop working for you, that's when I you will realize Daphanie."

"Okay Willie, until that day comes I'm going to continue cooking with my salt. For now, Just put the pot of chicken on the stove. I don't even know why you talking, you still eating pork and you had specific orders from Dr. Benson to lay off that type of food."

Willie quickly glimses at the huge block of ham he recently snuck back into the super market to buy after hime and his wife went grocery shopping the previous day.

"Look I only eat pork every seven days, it's not every other day like it use to."

starring at willie with disbelief
"Willie quite, you and I know nothing change, you eat pork every sevens only to make up for the last six days that you missed."

studders
"yu-yu-yu-yu.... you just a hater like what these young kids be saying today."

"Alright, I just hate to see advice given by a professional being wasted"

"Ain't this the pot calling the keetle black"

"you know what I'm not even going to dipute with you no longer. Can you go wake that boy(referring to Jasiyah) upstairs and tell him to bring his black ass down here and give us a hand.

Mr. Morgan sets the fire under the pot that is filled with the stew chicken and make his way upstairs to wake up his step-son Jasiyah.