Cooks in the Kitchen
"Never reckoned t'see you in an apron, Jack," Ennis purred, sliding up close only to be stopped short by a whack on the head with a dripping spatula.
"Jesus motherfuckin' Christ on the cross!" Jack yelled, "Can't you see I'm tryin' a concentrate, here?"
Abashed, Ennis backed up slowly and sat at the table. He watched Jack fling batter into the pan and didn't say a word.
About twenty fritters high, Jack turned around, scuffing his boots. "You did want fritters, right? Last us the week."
It was all Ennis could do not to fall out of his chair laughing.
