How to Murder Your Mother-in-Law
“Regrettably, my cooking was not a huge success. Which isn’t to say the food was terrible, more’s the pity. Terrible food has a certain credibility—an aplomb, if you will. Mediocre fare is inclined to sit there on the plate, knowing it will receive neither accolades nor the distinction of being voted the most dreadful meal anyone had ever eaten.
Bless Mrs. Malloy! She did her best to elevate the proceedings by wheeling in the trolley as if she had the head of John the Baptist in the large servin...g dish. But even she wasn’t to be relied upon one hundred percent. You could have heard a fork drop—a whole number of them—when she slapped a loaf of sliced bread, still in its plastic wrapper, down on the table.
“Don’t go making them eyes at me, Mrs. H.! You forgot to put the rolls in the oven. Poor little buggers. Their little faces beaten to a pulp, and all for nothing!” On that high note Mrs. M. departed, in a rustle of black taffeta, for the kitchen, leaving me to put my best smile forward.MoreLess
Bless Mrs. Malloy! She did her best to elevate the proceedings by wheeling in the trolley as if she had the head of John the Baptist in the large servin...g dish. But even she wasn’t to be relied upon one hundred percent. You could have heard a fork drop—a whole number of them—when she slapped a loaf of sliced bread, still in its plastic wrapper, down on the table.
“Don’t go making them eyes at me, Mrs. H.! You forgot to put the rolls in the oven. Poor little buggers. Their little faces beaten to a pulp, and all for nothing!” On that high note Mrs. M. departed, in a rustle of black taffeta, for the kitchen, leaving me to put my best smile forward.MoreLess
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