Daily Prompt: It’s too early yet

Sometimes you get up really early in the morning because you have to get on the road and make a seven hour drive. You don’t have time to wait for the daily prompt. You have to chug some coffee, shower, and get going. Describe for us in excruciating detail what you would write about. Maybe, how you slept, or what you had for dinner last night.

Photographers, show us CONTROL.

***

Cindy smiled as she pulled the glass dish out of the oven. “I think it’s done Dad.” She said and handed me a large wooden spoon to dish some up. There were already two plates strategically placed next to the top of the stove where she had placed the casserole.

“No,” I said, “I won’t do it. Your mother wouldn’t approve. She hates casseroles. The entire time we’ve been married – do you know how many casseroles I have eaten? Zero, that’s how many. If she were dead, she would roll over in her grave if she knew what you were feeding me.”

“Come on Dad, just a taste. It’s pretty non-traditional, yet it still has those casserole roots. You might be surprised. Here give me the spoon.”

“I like, non-traditional,” I said and handed over the spoon.

“I know ya do.” She dished up a lump of tuna and noodles onto my plate. Crumbled tortilla chips graced the top of it. She dished up a second identical serving for herself and carried them both to the table.

I followed along behind her. “It’s like a ‘Tuna Casserole Parade’ here,” I said. ‘When’s the game start?”

It smelled pretty good but, I was leery and took a sip of my beer. Cindy sat down and dug in.

I sat down too, and grabbed a forkful of the scary stuff. My hand was shaking as I raised it to my mouth. I looked at Cindy and she was continuing to eat. It hadn’t killed her yet, I thought to myself and I tentatively placed the bite in my mouth.

There was an instant explosion, KA-BLAM, just like in those old Batman shows. I tasted tuna; of course, I tasted chilies, cheese (lots of cheese), tortilla chips, and the sauce. There were layers of other ingredients evident but not immediately identifiable. I took another bite.

“Cindy, this is pretty good,” I said. “It’s like a mini-symphony in my mouth. Why didn’t you tell me that there were chilies in here?” She was just smiling at me. “OK, what’s in this?” I asked.

“There’s tuna, noodles, cheese, poblanos, serranos, chili powder, a few of those crushed red chilies, onion, and garlic. The sauce is just condensed soups. Stir it, bake it, and serve it. Simple enough. Do you like it?”

“Easy there, kiddo… saying I like it is quite a commitment, not something I can do lightly, can I stick with what I said before? ‘It’s pretty good.”

She crooked her elbow, brought her hand up towards her face and made a fist. “Yessssss,” she said, pumped her fist twice and went back to eating.

I kept eating too.

***

I’ll try to remember to link this up properly later, when I get to Santa Cruz (or maybe, I won’t). In the meantime, I’ll attach it to yesterday’s challenge. The usual suspects will probably be playing anyway.