A certain situation has been building in the Parsonage for the last several months. At first, I did not think it too serious but alas, we have reached a terrible impasse.
Walking into the house, I was hit with the horrific smell of broccoli cooking on the stove. I do not know if you ever smelt such a smell as that but if you are not prepared for it, it can smack you in the face like you have never been smacked in the face before.
When I came to myself and gathered what little composure I could find, I queried the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage who was in the kitchen.
“What is that awful smell?”
“I don’t know, have you taken a shower yet?”
After being married for 42 years, I know when to respond to a question and when not to.
“No,” I said gathering a little bit of manliness about me, “Something in this house smells dreadful. I smelled it as soon as I walked in the door.”
“Oh, that must be the wonderful aroma of broccoli cooking on the stove. Isn’t it marvelous?”
“You’re not cooking broccoli for supper tonight, are you?”
“Yes,” she said as chipper as I have ever heard her chip, “I thought I would surprise you with a wonderful dish of broccoli for supper tonight, to go along with our pork chops.”
Can you live with a person for so long and not know what they like or do not like?
I thought I could take advantage of this situation and sneak in something forbidden in our kitchen and house for that matter, a rare delicacy.
“I will then run to the store and get some fresh Apple Fritters for our dessert.”
In a moment, all the chipper drained from her person and she looked at me and said, “Apple Fritters are not allowed in this house.”