Chicken Marsala

“Life’s a shit-storm and you just hope for some toilet paper.” Paul says.

“Paul! Watch your mouth. That doesn’t even make sense.” Jillian scolds. “I’m sorry.” She says to her guests, sitting quietly across the dinner table.

“My point is,” Paul continues, “you can just pray that you smile more then not, eat more than not, get a wife or a pet and every once in awhile, get your willy wet.”

“PAUL!” Jillian says, flicking her cloth napkin at him.

“I mean it. Life’s not that bad if a few things go right. If you’re alone and hungry, life stinks. But dating homecoming queens..” He smiles.

“Damn it, Paul!” Jillian shouts. She looks at the couple in front of her. “He’s very, uh, loquacious when he drinks too much.”

The younger man looks across the table at the older couple and settles his vision on Jillian, his face placid. “It’s quite all right, ma’am.” Marcus says politely. He looks to his wife on his wife and gives her a reassuring squeeze on his hand.

Paul reaches for his scotch and soda and Jillian swats his hand away. Shunned, he decides the silence has been long enough. “You two seem like a fine couple. I’m happy for you both. I’m just not sure why Jill had you over for dinner.”

“To be neighborly, of course.” Jillian says.

“We sat here for 20 minutes and barely said anything to each other.” Paul says.

Jillian dabs her mouth with a cloth napkin. “You seemed to get plenty off your chest.” She says.

The young woman is familiar with this story, having watched her parents divorce. The couple, however– Paul and Jill–seem to genuinely dislike each other and yet would never consider separating. Given their age, substantial girth, dress or their standards for chicken marsala. Be polite and get out, she thinks. “It was a terrific meal. I really appreciate you inviting us over for such great–marsala.” Katie utters, immediately regretting her tone on the word marsala.

Jillian studies Katie. “Was everything okay?”

“Great, thank you.” Katie smiles.

“Ok. It just sounded like you– nevermind.” Jillian filters herself.

“Oh Jesus, Jill. Just ask her if she didn’t like the marsala. I’d say by the look on her face, she not only hated the marsala, she probably thought the wine was cheap, that I’m an ass, you’re a nag and she wants to get the hell out of here so she can order takeout and have a Goober deliver it.”

“It’s Uber, honey.” Jillian says.

“I like Goober better. It makes me smile.” Paul grins broadly.

“It’s like I always say–life’s a shitstorm–” Paul begins.

Marcus and Katie stand together and in unison speak. “We’ve got to be going.”

“I’ll show you out.” Jillian says before dabbing her mouth with her napkin.

“Thank you for coming. At least I hope we can be civil neighbors if not grow into best friends.”

“Of course.” Katie replies with her friendliest look.

“Let’m go, Jill. They’re adults and can find the way out.”

“Paul!”

Paul smiles and sips his scotch.

 

Words: 514

Filed: FICTION

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  131. With all the mouth dabbing, surely they use an “elegant” VanityFair napkin!
    This storyline is too much like an AmySchumer/LouieCK comedy bit. Therefore it will be necessary to break into both their dressing rooms leaving a note pretending to be the other celebrity telling of over the moon 🌚 and back affections for the other. This will turn on a light bulb 💡 in the others head and this will be added to the skit!
    SarahSilverman and neckless Jeselnek will hear of this skullduggery and find herself immediately impregnated leading to a century of fanaticism.
    Only this time it is populated by hilarious individuals (as they see themselves) instead of the gentle sheep herders of lore.
    Jelelnek was included with the silverwoman add on as he will take on a new wrinkle in a follow up episode where he try’s to abduct the new born child 👶 as a stage prop to intensify the absurdity of his surreal line of stand up.
    Please note Sarah delivered a black skinned child to herald a new age of reverse discrimination as life always finds a way and Gilda Radner nailed it just before she passed to the ether (to see if “her people” did the heavy lifting to have her admitted to the ether the same way George Bush was admitted to Yale.
    Georgie, looking around for a way to stand in his daddy’s foot steps became head cheer leader on a terrific squad and that experience lead him to finds ways to spend six trillion dollars of other peoples work/money on a useless attempt to wipe out anybody who thinks life should be viewed through any others lens than hilarious 🤣 comedy.
    Heaven will be filled with merry pranksters, pun munchers, wildly excitable exclamation screamers, and one guy who got no respect.
    Oh! Gilda said, “IT’S ALWAYS SOMETHINg”.
    The small g goes to prove her point.

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