Bowl Blues
By
Denise
Sam carefully swirled the last bit of icing on the cake and sighed, stepping back to admire her work. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. And they said she couldn't cook. Wouldn't Jack be surprised? What better way to celebrate their one-month anniversary of dating than with a nice dinner and some yummy cake for dessert? Or at least the first dessert. She had other plans for later, she thought, smiling mischievously at the look on Jack's face when he saw the little surprise she'd picked up at Vickey's Secrets this morning.
She dipped her finger into the bowl, scraping out the last little bit of icing and licking it from her finger. "Sam?" She heard Jack call as the front door slammed shut.
"In the kitchen," she said, hurriedly setting the bowl into the sink with the rest of the dishes and standing in front of the cake.
"Mmhm, something smells good," he said, walking into the room and over to her. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I don't think this is what Doc meant by resting."
"All I did was bake a cake. And anyway, she gave me the recipe," Sam said proudly. "It's really easy," she said, stepping away to show him her creation. "See all you do is bake a white cake and then when it cools you just mix up some Jell-o and pour it over it and…" She broke off in the middle of her explanation, frowning as his face went pale. "Jack? What's wrong?"
He pushed her aside, reaching out with trembling hands to pull the bowl from the sink. "You used it?"
"What?"
"You used the bowl," he accused.
"Well, I had to. There was the cake mix and the icing and…"
"It's blue," he said, staring in horror at the bowl in his hand. His lovely white bowl that was now a garish shade of blue, its sides smeared and stained. The dye had settled into tiny scratches in the plastic, highlighting them, making them more visible than ever before.
"It was blue Jell-o," she said. "I considered red but I thought that would look a little gory." She reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him around to face her. "Jack, it's just a bowl."
His face set and she took an instinctive step back, startled by the look in his eyes. "Don't ever say that," he ordered, pulling away from her. He pulled the other dishes out of the sink, quickly putting in the plug and running some hot soapy water. "It's ok, baby," he crooned, gently lowering the bowl into the water. "Daddy will take care of you. I won't let mean old Sam do this to you again." She stared as he gently scrubbed the plastic bowl, using the hem of his shirt to try and remove the dye from the scratches. "Do you think the oxyclean will hurt it?" he asked her, turning around, the bowl still clutched in his hand.
His arm hit her cake, knocking the newly frosted confection onto the floor with a loud and messy plop. She stared as his foot moved, kicking her cake and sending bits of it skittering across the floor. "Well?" he asked. "The oxyclean or should I try bleach? I don't want to hurt it."
Suddenly fed up, she tossed her spatula at him, taking no little amount of satisfaction when it plopped into the water, drenching him in soapsuds. "You know, Jack. You can't have your cake and eat it too," she said, turning on her heel. She grabbed her coat from the hall closet and stalked out the front door, taking great pleasure in slamming it hard enough to make the walls shake.
Jack watched her go, frowning a bit then shrugging. "Women," he muttered. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em," he muttered, holding bowl up to the light. "I know!" he cried. "Toothpaste." He hurried from the room, not noticing the cakey footprints he was leaving behind. "I'll have you sparkly white and minty fresh in no time."
Fin