By Joe Hobby
My wife Carol can’t cook. Let me clarify – technically, she can, but she doesn’t like to. The dishes in her culinary répertoire are basic things like green beans and a casserole or two. An empty foil pan at a church-covered dish attests to the fact that she makes a good pecan pie. However, day-to-day cooking usually falls on me. And while I’m always willing to try and prepare something new, recipe is a four-letter word to her.
Joe Hobby, Tribune Columnist
Even so, I had no idea she could make the kitchen such a dangerous place. I learned otherwise not too long ago. After supper, we had settled in for the evening as usual; she was watching some syrupy movie on her iPad while I scanned TV channels looking for the show where they finally caught Bigfoot.
Suddenly, there was a loud pop in the kitchen. Our two dogs, lying peacefully on the floor, jumped up and hi-tailed it to the bedroom like it was the Fourth of July. Carol looked at me and said, “What in the world was that? Did something fall?”
Before I could answer, there was another pop, louder than before. I bolted to the kitchen. It was time for the head of the house to confront this home invasion – or whatever it was.
I turned the corner and didn’t see anything. So, I moved cautiously around the kitchen island and was suddenly hit by a disgusting smell. For a minute, I thought I had found Bigfoot. It was like being in a nasty service station restroom. Holding my nose, I looked down at the stove and found the answer to the mystery. Sitting on top of a lit burner was a small bowl containing six eggs – and no water. Two of the eggs had already exploded from the heat.
I quickly reached out to cut off the gas when, “Ka-Pow!” another egg detonated, scaring me half to death. I jumped back from the island, covered with bits of shell, yolk, and humiliation.
In a matter of seconds, anger displaced my shock. I walked back into the den, wiping the egg out of my eyes and yelling,” I found out what it was!”
“What?”
“We’re you boiling any eggs, by chance?” I asked pointedly.
Carol looked at my face, which resembled a 2-year-old who tried to eat an omelet. Then she made a poor effort to stifle her laughter and said,” Oh, I forgot all about those.”
“So, this is funny. I responded angrily. What if a piece of eggshell hit me in the eye?”
“But it didn’t.” Then she giggled and said, “Maybe I should’ve yelled, ‘Fire in the hole!’”
She was on a roll now. “ You could write a blog about it. I’ve got the perfect title. The Yolk’s On Me”, or “Egg On My Face.” No, no, no – how about “Shell Shocked?”
I stood there fuming in silence, wondering if this mockery would be a legal defense for her murder.
Then I spoke. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out while you’re cleaning up the mess you just made.”
The laughter abruptly stopped. “But how will I get it off the ceiling?” she asked.
“Not my problem. If you can make up funny names for blogs, then I’m sure you’ll figure that out”. And I turned and headed to the bathroom to wash my face.
As ridiculous as this is, it pales in comparison to another idiotic episode in a kitchen. Thank heavens, it didn’t involve me. Several years ago, one of my work associates, Ronnie, told me this story about himself.
One Sunday morning, before she left for church, Ronnie’s wife told him to turn on the oven and put the ham inside. That way, it would be adequately heated and ready for the family lunch when she returned.
After worship, she turned into their subdivision and, to her shock, found a fire truck in the driveway. Jumping from her car, she ran straight to the kitchen, where she saw the oven door lying on the floor, smoldering, completely blown off the hinges. The wall across from it was impregnated with shards of metal and pork shrapnel.
“What did you do?” she screamed at her husband.
Ronnie replied calmly, “I did exactly what you told me to do. I put the ham in the oven. And you didn’t say anything about taking it out of the can first.”
The holiday cooking season is almost upon us. Be careful in the kitchen, ya’ll. Eggs and ham really can be bad for your health.
Joe Hobby is a comedian from Alabama who wrote for Jay Leno many years.
Find more of Joe’s stories on his blog: https://mylifeasahobby.blogspot.com/?m=1. Also, follow him on Facebook at Joe Hobby Comedian- Writer.
