Wednesday, March 7, 2018
Hi there, Sheiks and Shebas. I’m happy to see you back at Jazz Age Wednesdays. Here we are in the month of March. For many of us, March came in like the proverbial lion. I hope it takes on a much more lamb-like countenance for the remaining three weeks.
Good riddance year of the Fire Rooster!
Welcome year of the Earth Dog!
Speaking of critters… I haven’t done a post for Chinese New Year, although I did last year. I’m going to re-share the story I wrote for last year. I hope you don’t mind. If you are curious about the original post, click here*. Anyhow, I used my “three things” exercise to write the story. Those things were Fire, Rooster, and Calendar. Without further ado, here’s Pip.
Pip’s a Chicken
“Bock, bock-bock. Bock! Baaawk!”
Of all the nerve! My mouth dropped open. I was speechless. Granny Phanny bocked at me like a chicken. She bocked. She put her fists under her armpits and flapped her boney elbows — and she bocked at me!
Then, to make matters worse, she laughed.
Why that banty old woman. Of all the self-important, cockalorem!
“Oh Pip, if you could see the look on your face,” she said, still chuckling. “It’s not like you to chicken out. Now tie on your apron and we’ll look at this recipe together.”
Granny hung an apron around my neck, and then put her hands on my shoulders to forcibly turn me around. She tied a bow in back that I knew without looking was perfectly symmetrical.
“But Granny, I nearly set the kitchen on fire last time,” I complained, sincerely afraid of what damage I might cause.
“Hush that nonsense right now, Sweetpea. We’ll not be having any fires. Just because your fried chicken turned out as tough as an old rooster doesn’t mean you can quit.”
“An old rooster?” I exclaimed, mortified.
I looked at the recipe card. “Chicken Fricassee…” I read aloud. “Dredge chicken pieces in the flour mixture; coat well. Oh Granny, this sounds pos-i-lutely like a repeat of the fried chicken disaster. Granny?”
Phanny Irene Peabody was gone. Her purse was missing from the corner table. I called out again and she hollered from the living room.
My eyes fell on the calendar that hung on the wall. Wong’s Chinese Restaurant made one annually for Chinese New Year. Granny was going to an early dinner with friends. No wonder she wasn’t worried about me ruining dinner again.
“Granny!” I yelled, really miffed.
“I’ll be back this evening, Pip. Just keep the stove set to low while you fry that chicken, and follow the instructions for the fricassee,” she called from the living room to the sound of the front door creaking open.
I blew a raspberry as the front door closed with a thud. My hand plopped down on the plump poultry with a smacking sound.
“Old rooster, huh? I’ll show her,” I muttered and went back to the recipe card.
Yesterday I posted a request for your votes and feedback. I want your input as I decide on what kind of blog serial to do next. It will be a “three things” style serial, with you sending three random things to drive the story. So I want you, the reader to be evolved every step of the way. If you missed that post you can vote and leave your thoughts here*. Please do.
Thanks for visiting. You’re the bee’s knees!
PS: Of course, I have to show you the links to the books about Pip and her friends.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene
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