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Bud Grossmann’s
Words of the Week
for the Week of
February 10, 2008
Previously unpublished fiction.
© 2008 by Bud Grossmann.
All Rights Reserved.
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Apple, 2003
© 2003 by Bud Grossmann
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SOME RESTRICTIONS MAY APPLY
On Monday, the fourth day of February, Nurse Maureen told David Fischer on the phone that he better not be planning to make a Pineapple Custard Pie for L—, someone he had met in Fjord and had invited to lunch at his home on Tuesday. Fischer said, “What are you talking about, Ms. No Way No Chance Nohow? You’re micro-managing my menu? I already bought the pineapple.”
Maureen said, “I don’t care. You can make her something else. The Pineapple Custard is awesome. It’s mine.”
“Maureen,” Fischer said, “You can’t have exclusive claim to Pineapple Custard. I promised to make Pineapple Custard for the Meals on Wheels ladies on Valentine’s Day.”
“That’s okay. You can do that. But you aren’t making my pie for a ‘Possible.’”
“You’re joking, aren’t you,” Fischer said. He wasn’t asking, but he wasn’t sure. “I find this quite charming,” he said, “and very humorous. This is as funny as the little speech you gave me in your kitchen.”
“I’m not joking. Pineapple Custard is mine. You can’t give it to someone else on a first date.”
Fischer was flattered. He was smiling so hard his cheeks ached. “Maureen,” he pleaded. “Maureen,” he reasoned, “the first pie I ever gave you was lemon meringue.”
“The Pineapple Custard is mine,” she said again. “You can give her lemon. You can give her apple.”
“I already gave her apple. I gave her your apple, the last slice of that Dutch apple pie I brought you when we went to church. I can’t believe you’re saying this.”
“Mmm, hmm.”
♦
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