Stirring Up The Pots

“Everything under control?”

“Absolutely,” I responded, stirring the contents of the left pot, checking on the right.

Gravy bubbled up delicious aroma. Steamy chocolate swirled to the ceiling, taking me back to the time I watched mother make the same recipe.

“Darn!” my inner voice screamed. “Cornstarch lumps!”

I reached for the blender. Meantime I detected a slight burning cocoa smell and set the dessert sauce aside.

“Fifteen minutes left!” the announcer yelled.

A panel of judges awaited each contestant’s creations.

“Interesting combination with chicken,” one stated, sampling mine. “There’s brandy. Definitely chocolate. Cherries are divine. What’s your dessert sauce?”From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season or location she finds herself in.

Vegan Vigilantes

The joint was cased. All that remained was the decision: this coffeehouse or the Dunkin’ Donuts on the bypass?

Roland sauntered inside and scanned the menu--coffee and sandwiches--on the back wall.

“Can I help you?”

“Anything vegan?”

Bewildered: “Uh, vegan? Er...”

An older barista, working a blender: “Nothing vegan.”

Roland stepped back, leaned against the wall, phone to ear: “Mook, it’s the shop on Main. Even worse than Dunkin’. Pick me up in two minutes.”

He replaced the phone with a gun and approached the counter.

“Since your menu isn’t cruelty-free, I’ll take your money. Open the register.”From Guest Contributor Joe Surkiewicz

Joe writes from northern Vermont.