I Do NOT Have a Borgia in my Family Tree

Last Saturday, Hick and Genius worked at the school carnival. It was an all-day affair. They had to arrive at 7:00 a.m., and didn't return home until 1:00 a.m. The Pony marched in the parade, and Genius rode in a car as Sweetheart Dance king, wearing a crown that was too small for his extra-large cranium. The weather was perfect for a parade, if you didn't have to stand on the street and watch it, or march in it. Ninety-three degrees, humid, sunny. The gym where most of the carnival action took place was not air conditioned. Thank goodness, there was only one case of heat stroke.

The next morning, I saw that Hick had brought home some BBQ from the carnival. Whether it was left over, or purchased at a discount near the end of the day, I do not know. But he had white foam containers filled with ten hot dogs, ten bratwursts, and four pork steaks. I gave some to my mom. We took some in our lunches. And in the evenings, we ate on that bounty for a few days. Then I returned to my duties as the short-temper cook.

On Thursday evening, my mom picked up The Pony at school and brought him home, because I had taken the day off to accompany Hick for some minor surgery at his eye doctor's office. Don't EVEN ask me to go into that right now. Mom picked up some pizza on her way to our house, so that was our supper.

Hick, stitches and all, left for the auction before supper was squared away. I put  his pizza, still in a box, in the fridge. In doing so, I noticed that a container of leftover hot dogs and brats was in the way, so I set them out on the stove to be tossed to the dogs. Hick usually does that in the mornings, when it's time to feed the fleabags.

This morning, I went to get some pizza to pack for lunch, and saw that the whole amount was still in the box. I asked Hick what he had eaten for supper when he got home from the auction. You guessed it.

"I had a couple of sausages, with slaw. I love slaw dogs."

"THOSE WERE FOR THE DOGS! They were six days old! And they had been sitting out for at least five hours!"

"I ain't sick. I feel fine. And they were still cool."

"You do not have good sense! How long did they sit out at the carnival before you even brought them home?"

"They were still good. I thought you set them out for me to eat."

He's like Homer Simpson digging that big sandwich out of the garbage can. So far, no hallucinations.