Meat invited me over yesterday for some legitimate political discourse. I strapped on a helmet and wandered over.
"Where's the rally?" I asked, letting myself in the door.
Tater's voice came from the back of the house. "In the kitchen, come on back." She was pouring herself a cup of coffee, Meat sat at the table with a plate of runny eggs, bacon and a once full pint mug in front of him.
"What are you in training for?" I asked eyeing the mug. "Same thing as you," Meat replied. He scraped up the last of the eggs and slurped them down, then followed with the last of the pint.
"You forgot your bacon," I noted, pointing at his plate. "Nah, already had a piece. That stuff is bad for you, you know."
Tater watched the scene but I wasn't sure if it was slight bemusement or massive disgust on her face. She'd been quiet since she called me back.
Meat got up with his dirty plate and walked it over to the sink. He reached into the freezer and pulled out two fresh, frosty mugs and set them on the counter. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a couple of beverages.
My gaze danced between Meat and Tater, trying to figure out just what I'd walked into. Meat completed the ritual of filling the mugs to the rim, foam head extending over, and with a flourish handed one to me, excess dripping on the floor.
Tater blankly sipped her coffee, opened a drawer, pulled out a dish towel, and fired it directly into Meat's face.
"Looks like you'll need this," she said just as she let go of it. She calmly took a larger drink of her coffee.
Meat hesitated for a count of two, picked up his beer, pulled the towel off his face and wiped the ring and drops on the counter, then bent over and wiped the trail from the counter to the spot directly below the mug I held in my hand.
"Thanks dear," Meat said as he straightened up, and turned toward Tater. He held the wet dishtowel over her head and dropped it. "That really came in handy."
Tater calmly took the towel off her head and dropped it on the counter. She looked at me. "So, SJ, how do you like your eggs?"
Meat took on a look I've seen before. I imagine it's exactly what Mount St. Helens looked like a second before she blew. Tater looked at him and smiled.
Meat's look passed. He smiled back at her. I, as usual, was clueless.
It was then I noticed something on the wall next to the kitchen table, near where Meat was when I walked in. Two eggs, yolk and all, broken just above head height. Some of the shell still stuck to the wall, some on the floor.
Meat chimed in, "Before you answer that question, SJ, let me tell you there are probably several right answers. But be warned, any answer that sounds like "cooked this time" is going to lead to some real legitimate political discourse."
"So it's a good thing you wore that helmet."