Church Supper

The Church Supper

The misty September dawn rose slowly over Martin Street; all the houses dark, save one, their closed curtains guarding the sleeping occupants from the early morning intrusion.

The one light, dimly glowing behind the curtains of Mary and Mark Easton’s kitchen window, wasn’t that unusual. Mary, always an early riser, had just finished making the morning coffee and was searching the lower cupboards for her largest cooking pot. She had volunteered to prepare her highly acclaimed, glazed Greek meat balls, for the church’s community holiday supper and she intended to get them finished in time to have a leisurely bath before she got ready to go.

I do wish Mark were awake to lend a hand, Mary thought, she held a hand to her stiff arthritic back; pulled the necessary pot from the lower cupboard with her other and slowly stood upright. It is quite handy to have the old fool around when something has to be lifted though. Mary smiled through the dull throbbing; I guess maybe men are good for a few things.

The night before; Mary was sure that men were absolutely good for nothing, Mark in particular; she didn’t keep the thought to herself either. Mark had come home late and had forgotten to pick up the thirty pounds of beef that Mary had intended to grind last night. She had of course, given Mark a good scolding for his thoughtless neglect of her needs.

Mark, though usually quite compliant to Mary’s needs and seldom one to quarrel, had stopped for a drink with some work chums and had forgotten the beef, and then he even had the nerve to suggest that Mary could just as well have driven herself to the butcher shop. Which suggestion didn't advance the quarrel much in Mary's opinion and was quite like a man to inject his dull thoughts where they weren't wanted!

The row was of the kind that could have continued for hours in another household perhaps, but Mary didn’t believe in extended arguments with incompetents and refused to discuss it any further. Mark was just as happy to let the matter drop and retire to his bed; he wasn’t used to drinking and knew full well that Mary would exact some sort of unpleasant revenge for his indiscretion sometime when he would least expect it.

All is well that ends well, Mary thought with a smile, as she opened the refrigerator and slid Mark’s severed head into the large pot. The meat from Mark’s ample thighs had been more than enough for the grinding and after she put his head on to boil, she intended to get those meatballs into the oven. There would still be plenty enough time for a nice relaxing bath before she had to load everything into the station wagon.

Though it would be nice to have a little help in the loading, Mary frowned as she sat the pot onto the stove. Men can be so thoughtless sometimes!

499 words