This week’s prompt word: “cat” in any shape or form…
It was a catastrophe of catastrophic proportions.
I looked at her and she at me and we both burst into laughter.
On the floor was her prize and joy.
Though on the floor it didn’t look the attractive dish it did before it hit.
She’d spent all afternoon preparing the pumpkin pie from a recipe her mum had used some twenty years before. Every step of the way was greeted with the excitement of her voice saying, “There that’s right, I remember mum saying it had to look that way.”
But right now the pie was no more. Not only was it on the floor and spreading into the floorboards but it also was turning a colour neither of us expected. Where it should have been a pumpkin colour there was a hint of red about the mix as it oozed from the smashed pie dish.
My wife is a great pie lover and loves to quote a list of her favourite pies, which takes in most known varieties. Today was a special one for not only was it using her mum’s recipe but also her dad was coming from the nursing home for lunch on one of his rare days out. Clarrie was a great pie lover, after any meal when asked if he wanted dessert he’d say: “Better have something to take the taste away.”
Catastrophes aside we were in trouble. The red tinge to the smashed pie grew larger, we looked from one to the other and realised that my wife’s hand was bleeding, her precious blood spilling all over the now ruined pie and suddenly the dilemma grew larger, fix the floor, or fix the hand.
Floors don’t scream like a person with a bleeding hand will and so that catastrophe solved I rushed around to get a cloth to help stem the flow of blood.
Hours later her hand swathed in bandages we returned home to find her dad in the kitchen surveying what was left of the pie, now a mash of pumpkin and glass.
‘Been a bit of a catastrophe here I see,’ he said as we entered, a take away Chinese meal under my arm…. a frozen apple pie to be placed into the oven…