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The Cherry SmackDown - Chapter 4 - And a Cherry on Top

 

 

“This spot is saved for me,” Talie announces as she gets up from her place on the floor and heads out of the family room.

 

I take that as my cue to change the channel.  I turn the volume down pretty low so that Mom won’t hear the SuperSlam commentator.  She’s using the blender right now, but you never know what a Mom’s bionic hearing will pick up.

 

Yes!  The Saturday Slam is still going on.  Now it’s El Torro facing off against The Hurricane.  The King Cobra is my favorite, but El Torro is a close second.  

 

I unscrew the lid on the jar of cherries and spear a cherry with my fork.  I plop the red bundle of sweetness in my mouth and give a quick chew.  I fork another one while I swallow and settle in to a rhythm as the match gets started.  Spear, chew, swallow.  Spear chew, swallow.

El Torro and The Hurricane are circling each other in the center of the ring.  Spear, chew, swallow.  I’m standing up holding the jar of cherries.  Spear, chew, swallow.  El Torro fakes a lunge towards The Hurricane, who falls for it and steps back.  Spear, chew, swallow.  I quickly fake a lunge of my own.  Spear, chew, swallow.

 

 El Torro fakes another lunge, and I fake one too.  Spear, chew, swallow.  The Hurricane takes another step back.  Spear, chew, swallow.  Now El Torro has The Hurricane almost to the ropes.  Spear, chew, swallow.

 

The match freezes, and the commentator comes into view.  Spear, chew, swallow.  

 

“We’re going to take a quick break from this match to remind all of you wrestling fans about a really exciting match coming up.”  Spear, chew, swallow.  

 

I really want to get back to El Torro and The Hurricane because I don’t know how long I’m going to get away with watching the SuperSlam Network.  Spear, chew, swallow.

 

The TV commentator continues, “Later today here on the SSN, we’ll be airing a rematch between the Femmes Fatale and the BrixChix.”  Spear, chew, swallow.  

 

“Now that’s one match you really don’t want to miss, ladies and gentlemen!”  Spear, chew, swallow.  “But for now, let’s go back to El Torro and The Hurricane.”  Spear, chew, swallow.

 

“Peter!” Mom calls from the kitchen.

 

Uh-oh, I think.  She knows I’m watching the SuperSlam Network.

 

“Peter!” Mom calls again.  “Bring me those cherries so I can get the cheesecakes finished.”

 

I look down at the jar of cherries.  It’s probably the biggest jar of cherries I’ve ever seen, but at this point, it’s not very full of cherries.  I screw the top back on and try to think of a way out of this mess.

 

“Peter!  Did you hear me?”  Mom shouts from the kitchen.

 

“Okay, Mom.  I’m bringing them now,” I answer, and I find myself wondering if Mom knows any SuperSlam moves.

 

* * *

 

I edge my way into the kitchen carefully keeping the jar of cherries behind my back.  I know I’m about to get pinned to the mat for eating so many cherries, but I’m still hoping to find a way out of this cherry mess.

 

Mom has her back to me.  She’s opened the refrigerator and is backing up with a large tray of miniature cheesecakes.

 

She’s concentrating on the tray and doesn’t even look at me when she asks, “Could you help me out with these?”

 

“Umm . . .  Sure, Mom,” I answer hoping that if I’m nice she’ll go easy on me.

 

“I’ve got so much left to do,” she says as she nudges the fridge door closed with her foot.  

 

She turns to face me with the tray.  I shift the half empty cherry jar to my left hand, and I casually place my right hand on the counter.

 

“I need one cherry on each of these,” Mom says as she sets the tray down next to me.  She quickly turns back to the other counter and her piles of raw vegetables.  Then without looking back she adds, “If any of the cherries still have a stem, be sure to pull it off before you put the cherry on the cheesecake. And, wash your hands before you get started.”

 

With the jar of cherries still hidden from Mom’s view, I walk past the tray of plain-o cheesecakes and the extra party supplies stacked on the counter.  I’m just about to enter the bathroom to wash my hands when my brain realizes what my eyes have just seen.  Extra chips.  Extra buns.  Extra carrots.  And, extra cherry tomatoes.  

 

I do a quick about-face and walk back to the extra supplies.  I shift the jar of cherries to one hand and grab a carton of cherry tomatoes with the other.  I sprint the rest of the way to the bathroom and skid to a stop.  Once inside, I set my supplies on the floor and turn and lock the door.  Then, I open the jar of cherries and carefully pour the cherry tomatoes into it, and I give the almost-full jar several good shakes.

“Cherries . . . Cherry tomatoes,” I say quietly to myself as I shake the jar to mix the sweet cherry juice over all of the ‘cherries.’  “They’re both red and juicy.  They’re both kind of round.  And, they both have ‘cherry’ as part of their name.  Problem solved.”

Just to keep good luck coming my way, I wash my hands really well.  I even use soap.

 

Then with two very clean hands and an almost full jar of ‘cherries,’ I head back to the kitchen.  I hum the SuperSlam theme music as I set the jar of ‘cherries’ on the countertop beside the cheesecakes.  Mom is busy arranging the raw vegetables on three large plates and doesn’t even look over at me.

 

I unscrew the jar and take out a ‘cherry.’  I place it in the center of the first miniature cheesecakes and reach back to the jar to get another one.

 

Mom looks over her shoulder at me and says, “Thanks for helping, Peter”

 

Then she adds, “Remember no stems, and use a fork not your fingers.”

 

“Got it, Mom.  No stems.”  I begin to smile as I grab a fork and use it to spear a ‘cherry.’  I place one ‘cherry’ on each of the little cheesecakes, and they really do look great.  In fact, if you don’t look too closely, you can hardly tell which ones are cherries and which ones are cherry tomatoes.  

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