CHAPTER 2

It was the third night that week that I had had dinner at my parents.

My mother, in a fit of desperation had declared at dinner the Sunday before that if Valerie and I couldn't find ourselves some nice men to marry us then she would find them herself.

And with that it had started.

Monday; meatloaf green beans and sponge cake, Mike Metzger 39 year old used car salesman who drove a Lincoln, had an oily comb over and mismatched socks. He discreetly snuck out the back door when my mother went to get the fire extinguisher when Mary Alice accidentally knocked over the candles and set the tablecloth alight. Neither Valerie nor I were sad to see him go.

Wednesday; Pot roast and coffee cake; Norman Franklin who my mother had meet at the butcher, and "anyone who bought prime cuts of meat couldn't be that bad" to quote my mother. And in her infinite wisdom had invited him home for dinner.

Turns out, that quality meat wasn't the only thing that Norman was fanatic about. He was also an avid stamp collector. He even managed to put my mother to sleep with tales of his adventures at the stamp collectors convention.

Friday; Roast Chicken mashed potatoes and chocolate cake, Henry Finker who had gone to kindergarten with Valerie, and hadn't matured much since then. He spent most of dinner discussing the latest Harry Potter with Angie and had my sister cut his chicken for him.

The only good thing to come out of it was that I had a fridge full of leftovers and Valerie had found herself a babysitter.

Ranger had called. Twice actually. I think it was just to hear about the dinners at my parents house. I don't know why, but he seemed to find the stories amusing.

I t's weird what some people find humour in.

After talking to Ranger I headed to bed, all that food makes a girl sleepy. And I needed my rest if I was going to track down the list of skips I had tomorrow.