Love stories and left-overs....

I whipped the twice-baked potatoes out of the oven and slung them as hard as I could at the cold tile wall above the kitchen sink. I watched them stick, cheese glued, to the riveted grout, and then slide, like lazy slugs , down the wall, and plop into the stainless steel sink.

I hit the button.

The disposal devoured them like a pit bull on a pile of baby rattle snakes.

THE BREAK-UP.

He freaked. Had never seen me so volatile. So Alive, really. Had never seen me so…“So what?”

It was raining, summer sleet….the sliding glass doors were covered in a hard-water stained film, the rain pounding on the other side….steam rising off the concrete patio. From the kitchen, where I stood, Michelob in hand, he was just a shadow on the other side of a dirty shower curtain…..

I watched, cat-eyed, as he mounted the bike and rode off into torrents, the rain pelting his face….

“God, I hope he’s okay…he makes it home safe”

I glanced at the sink. Little dribbles of bacon, aged Wisconsin cheddar, and remnants of potatoes tattooed the stainless steel.

“I’ll worry about it tomorrow”

I plunked my skinny little fanny onto the corduroy couch and finished my beer. “There!” I waited for the tears to come, the wailing, the flailing, the “Oh my God, I just called off a wedding" blues to come……

I drank another beer. And looked at the clock. Got up and looked at the sink again.

It’s twenty years later, and I’m still hungry for those twice-baked potatoes……