Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 01 - Kitchen Addiction! (25 page)

“Yeah,
last winter,” I said.

“Didn’t
he give you anything?”

“She. 
And yeah.  A couple of creams.”

“Didn’t
you use them?”

“Yeah. 
Sort of.  I went back in for a re-check and she asked me about them.”

“What
did you say?”

“I
said they made my skin itch and burn a lot.”

“Eech. 
What did she say?”

“She
asked if the itching and burning was unbearable.”

“What
did you say?”

I
shrugged.  “I guessed no.  I mean, unbearable has to be pretty bad, right?”

Ethel
pursed her lips.  “I’m no doctor.  But I’m guessing something that’s supposed
make you feel better shouldn’t itch or burn.  You’re not still using them, are
you?”

I
shook my head.

We
listened to sizzling and watched Bauser domestically flip the beaner pierogies.

“Maybe
you should see a homeopath,” Norman piped up.

“She’s
friends with K.,” Bauser huffed.

Norman
sighed.  “A homeopath.  Not a
homo.”

“Oh.”

I
shook my head and stopped.  A sharp crick in my shoulder shot down my arm and
straight into my fingers.  Youch.  I wondered if this kind of pain would be
considered unbearable.  I mean, is unbearable like completely distracting, or
can you still grocery shop but just be a bit grouchier standing in line? 
Besides, what was the alternative to unbearable?  Drop dead?

 “Anyway,
why was How-weird calling Mina at home?” Bauser asked.

Ethel
winced.  “Umm… it’s not real good.  And he’s mean,” she said.

“Why
do you say that?” I asked out of habit rather than any real reason.  After all,
he’s my boss.  Isn’t mean a part of every boss’ job description?  Except for
Ethel’s boss, who’s really more like her fairy godfather.  Ethel’s boss Ralph
let her work from home the first week they adopted the Ratties and apologized
for not being able to swing the time as FML instead of re-paid comp time.

 “It
kind of sounded like Howard fired you.”

Bauser
got caught in mid-flip and flopped a pierogie on the floor.  Vinnie, Hansel and
Gretel immediately surrounded the renegade pierogie, sniffed, and burnt their
respective noses.  They licked their chops, and sat around the steaming beaner
in wait.

“Oh
crap,” Norman said.  But not about the pierogie.

The
pinch in my shoulder tightened in the opposite direction, pulling a nerve in my
butt that throbbed all the way down from my neck to my heel.  A quintessential
tension headache was brewing.  I tried to take a deep, cleansing breath and
hiccupped instead.

“Okay,
HIC, why do you think HIC-oward fired me?”

“Because
he ended the message by saying ‘YOU’RE FIRED’.”

I
sighed and started to go upstairs to listen to How-weird’s apoplectic missive. 
Maybe Ethel misheard?  After all, she could be preggers.  Don’t hormones affect
your hearing?  On the other hand, if it would scare my hiccups away then
Howard’s message might actually be useful.

“Mina,
you might not want to listen to that alone,” Ethel tried.

“HIC?”

“He
was pretty mean.  Even if all the things he said you didn’t do aren’t true.  It
didn’t sound like he was just venting.”  I nodded and hiccupped upstairs.

“Here!”
Bauser said and thrust the spatula and towel at Ethel.  He lifted a chin to Norman to follow.  Norman sighed and trudged.” Just when you think you have a bonafide
hooky day,” he mumbled.

“Wait
a minute.  Where are you going?” I asked.

“We’re
going to listen to How-weird’s missive.  We’ll give you a full report.”

“Uh,
don’t you think I should listen to my own messages?”

“No,”
they said in unison, and thumped upstairs.

Fifteen
minutes and another lifetime later, they were back downstairs in the kitchen,
while Ethel and I had practiced the ill-advised art of El Hombre pierogie
production.  There were about four dozen pierogies heaped on the platter in
front of us.

I,
at least, felt more relaxed.  Bauser and Norman looked a little grey.  So did
Ike, who’d followed down after them.

“Geez,
your boss is mean,” Ike said.  I shrugged.  Then he added thoughtfully, “Well,
at least he’s not your boss anymore,” and helped himself to a heaping of
pierogies on a plate.  “Hey, got any salsa?”

I
looked at Bauser and Norman.  Norman looked down.  Bauser shrugged.  “You’re
probably not alone, if it makes you feel any better,” Bauser said.

“Huh?”
I asked.

“He
made reference to your ‘slacker buddy’,” Bauser said. “Me.”

“So?”

“And
how you’re out on your ass.  Like me.”

“Oh.”

Vito
waltzed back in the door with a large tray and a grin.  But one look at us and
his entire face fell.  “Geez, who died?” he asked.

We
filled him in on the casualties.

“Ugh,”
Vito said.  “The slob. Who needs him, right?  Ya know, just the other night
your Ma and Mu and me was talking about how you were too good for that job
anyways.”

“The
other night?” I asked, then mentally pinched myself.  If I really didn’t want
to know anything, I had to stop being so damn inquisitive.

“Yeah,
I thought I should go over to Mu’s to see how the girls were doing after the
fire and all.  And we had a nice time looking at paint swatches,” he said.

I-don’t-wanna-know,
I-don’t-wanna-know, I-don’t-wanna-know, I mantra’d to myself and banged my
heels together three times.  Planet pain came back into focus and shot the taut
nerve in my heel back up to my shoulder, neck and noggin.  But I was still
here, and actually wishing I was in Kansas.  Ouch.

“I’ve
always felt Mina’s talents were wasted at EEJIT,” Norman said simply.  “I’ll
miss working with you, and How-weird’s an ass.  But you’ll be happier,” he
finished.

I
thought about it.  “Yeah, I’ll be happier without How-weird,” I said.  “But I
doubt I’ll be happier without a paycheck.”

“Details,
details,” Vito said.  “If money’s your only problem, you ain’t got no
problems.”

Spoken
like someone who’d never had to eat Insta-Noodles to pay the rent.  But I was
grateful for the nods of encouragement and mazel tovs at my termination.

“Well,
looks like I got this stuff just in time,” Vito said, settling his tray on the
counter.  “Nothing like celebrating the prospect of a new venture than with a
Hawaiian Orchid.”

He
lined up a bottle of medium-okay champagne, a can of crushed pineapple, a can
of mango nectar and a small jar filled with what I feared could double as
turpentine.  He gave the champagne to Norman to open.  Bauser took it away. 
Then Vito dug around and pulled out my mini-Cuisinart which I hadn’t used since
I tried to curb the catering disorder.

“HAWIANN
ORCHID – a little something what helps to take the taste of termination out of
your throat,” Vito said.  Here goes:

1
can crushed pineapple

8
oz. mango nectar

8
ice cubes

1
bottle okay-ish champagne (don’t waste the good stuff on this)

1
sugar cube per glass

1
dash Angostura bitters per glass

1/8
tsp rosemary

Rum

Put
1 sugar cube per glass.  Drop Angostura bitters.  Dash tsp. rosemary.  Mix in 1
shot rum.  Muddle.  Combine pineapple, mango nectar and ice cubes into food
processor/blender and mix until frothy.  Pour about 2 shots fruit blender
combination onto rum mixture. Mix gently.  Pour in champagne and mix gently. 
Toast and drink to the past tense of a dead end and ALOHA to the future. 
Note:  the drink probably will look a lot nicer in an actual wine or champagne
glass, as opposed to the coffee mugs we used.

“Looks
like it’s the beginning of the beginning,” Vito said.

“Or
the end of the end,” Norman said.

“Well,
here’s looking up your address,” Vito said, and we all clunked our coffee mugs
together.  Except for Ethel, who clunked her glass of milk.  I made a mental
note to point her toward the hall closet and her pregnancy test kits quick, for
the next time she had to pee.  Which I hoped would be soon.  And often.

“You
know, I bet these look a lot nicer in glasses,” Norman mused.

“What
happened to the classy glasses you had the other night?” Vito asked.

“K.‘s,”
I answered.

“That
explains it,” he said and sipped. “So now what are you gonna do?”

“Apply
for unemployment, I guess,” I said.

“No,
I mean what are you gonna do about the Burning Buy-A-Lots?” he asked.  I
shrugged.

“Nothing,”
I said.  “Except I’m going to have to get these insurance papers back to
EEJIT.”

Bauser
stared.  “Actually, ignoring EEJIT’s and Buy-A-Lots mutual problem probably is
not an option,” he said.  “Remember what we talked about before?  Whoever’s
burning Buy-A-Lots has probably been konking you on the noggin.”

“And
burning my house,” Vito added.  Bauser nodded.

“Assuming
this is a reasonable deduction,” Norman began, “Mina should be somewhat safe
now.  Since whoever connected her with EEJIT and Buy-A-Lots will realize she’s
out of the corporate picture, they should shift their sights.  Unless of course
it’s some kind of personal vendetta.” Great.  Personal vendettas.  Am I lucky,
or what?

“Well,
ya know what they say.  The only thing worse than getting a punch in the mouth
is waiting for it,” Vito said, finishing up his drink.  “So there’s no use in
worrying about something until it happens.”

We
all clunked mugs again and agreed.  After all this clunking, I was kind of glad
my nice glasses were a thing of the past.

I
leaned against the threshold to my kitchen and wished some genius computer nerd
had invented an ‘undo’ button for life.  Except that I’d probably end up
smacking ‘undo’ back up to the day Ma first saw Dad.  Goes to show ya.  I
readjusted my stance and tried to make my attitude shift along with it.  Ethel
looked me over.

“You
know, you really need to do something about how you deal with stress,” she
said.

I
glared back at her warmly.  “That’s why I go to Snappy Hours,” I said.

Ethel
opened her mouth, thought better of it, and closed it.  Ike chewed on more
beanie pierogies.  “Hey, these aren’t half bad.  And I do feel better.  Thanks,
Vito,” he said.

Vito
looked Ike up and down, looked over at Ethel and shrugged.  “No problemo.  A
person can’t be all lousy if they’re Hansel and Gretel’s dad,” he said.

“Well,
I still have to get these papers back to EEJIT,” I said, rifling around the
dining room for where Ma or Mu had stashed them.  I found the envelope tucked
inside the bookcase.  “And I still need to talk to the police about my purse. 
And my car.  And the insurance people.  And the credit card people. And get a
new driver’s license.  And bank card.  And…” I trailed off: the day was
mostly gone and I still had a few hundred people or so to argue with.  And I
still didn’t have a car.  I mean, I had my car, but I didn’t have my keys.  And
that also meant whoever had my car keys, in my pocketbook, also had the keys to
my house.  Great.  Just what I needed.  More unexpected guests.

I
was tossing around the options of asking Bauser or Vito for a ride, when Trixie
rushed into the kitchen.  She tried to give us the heads up, as Appletree
strolled in right behind her.    

“Hey,
are we celebrating or mourning?” Appletree asked, eyeing the empty champagne
bottle and pitcher of Hawaiian Orchids.  He shook his head.  “Looks like an
Irish wake.” Then he continued, “But I got good news, anyway,” and held up my
purse. 

Vito,
Bauser, Norman, Ike and Ethel contributed individual cheers, with and without
Hawaiian Orchids.  Vinnie grred a, “Gratch-laash-ions,” and the Ratties sat
pretty.

I
took my purse and looked at it.  It looked really, really clean.  “We had to
dust it for fingerprints,” Appletree said.  Oh.  Well that explained that, then. 
But everything, including my wallet and its contents were there.

“You
think I’m okay to use everything as is?” I asked.

“Yep.
Because we got it right off of her,” he said.

“Her?”
Bauser, Norman and Vito asked collectively.

“Yep;
got her down at the station right now.  Mina, do you know a Helena Pryz…
Prychnitch… Pryzchntchynzski?”

“Gezundheit,”
Ike said.

We
all looked at each other.  Except for Vito, because his eyes rolled back in his
head and he fainted in the middle of my kitchen floor.

Luckily
for Vito, he had a crowd around him; otherwise he would’ve joined the Konked
Noggin Club.  Unluckily, Bauser and Norman and Ike broke his fall and kind of
got a little squished.