Cliché

“That’s a fine kettle of fish you got there Frank.”

“Why thanks, Jim. I’m looking forward to having your cake. Eating it, too.”

Jim set the cake in the middle of the table, the brown icing not fully covering the moist chocolate underneath. The smell of fish filled the air in the wooden cabin, as the two men stood around the stove, staring at the large pot where the fish boiled.

“Did you hear about the Orioles, Frank? Started a whole new ballgame when they got rained out last week.”

“I was at that game, Jim. It was cold as sin, and we only had a wet blanket to warm us.”

“Yeah, it was cold enough to set your teeth on edge, that’s for sure.” Jim sipped his beer and looked at the dead fish bodies flopping in the boiling water.

“Say, how’s your wife these days? I remember she hurt herself with that battle you two had, trying to push your car uphill.”

“Same day as the game, actually. She was mad I left the top of the convertible down, and the ritual hen got soaked. But physically, she’s fine, fully recovered.”

“I don’t mean to talk you in circles here, Frank, but that’s a fine kettle of fish. They almost ready?”

“Just about, Jim. Another minute or two. It’d be a bit cliché if we were to get food poisoning going off half-cooked, don’t you think?”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s