It was almost midnight on Friday, I was alone in the TV room and a horror movie was about to start in a few minutes. Suddenly, there were strange noises coming from the kitchen. I couldn’t make out the sounds. Familiar midnight noises in the kitchen usually consist of the door of the fridge opening and closing, cabinet doors opening and closing, cutlery touching ceramic… you know, all the sounds that go with making a sandwich.
But on Friday night, the sounds were different. For a moment there, I did wonder if my mind was playing tricks on me. I was all psyched up to watch a horror movie, so, perhaps… you know, the power of suggestion? I turned down the volume of the TV and listened. The sounds just kept going. I stood up and, barefoot, started tiptoeing down the stairs. Better sure than stupid, right?
Shucks, it was Speedy making fruit salad. No wonder the sounds were unfamiliar. Peeling and slicing fruits, whipping cream…
About an hour earlier, he drove Sam to a friend’s house where she was spending the night, he passed by the supermarket apparently because the last time I checked, we were out of cream.
Me: “What’s the big idea…?”
Him: “We still have strawberries…”
Riiiggghht. We still had strawberries, bananas and apples so it made sense to buy a pack of kiwis, a pack of seedless grapes, a can of peaches, a can of lychees, cream and sweetened condensed milk to make fruit salad? I suppose there’s some logic there somewhere. Or, perhaps, just a bad case of craving. The fruit salad was delicious though so who was I to complain?