Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 01 - Kitchen Addiction! (37 page)

I
sighed.  I wanted to say no thanks, thought about the impending guilt and then
thought again.   My cheek pinched again.  Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible
idea.

After
some more bickering about when Aunt Muriel should schedule the next round of
massages, she herded my family out of my house.  Annie bid farewell, in search
of a motel since Vito’s real niece had displaced her guestroom privileges. 
Bauser agreed to take Jim and leave me without supervision, since he’d been
convinced that Vinnie was a bonafide guard cat, thanks to Annie.    Helena went back to Vito’s, to call her folks and check on her mini-Marie.

“Hey,
I gotta get going, Toots,” Vito said.   “We’ve got a big day tomorrow!” He
flashed a wide, gappy grin; his bridge was out. I glanced carefully down at the
coffee table, sofa and end tables.  No toothies.  I hoped he’d had them in his
pocket and Vinnie hadn’t hid them away as a treasured cat toy.

“Huh?”
I asked politely.

“Tomorrow’s
Thursday!  The 72 hours will be up! I’m gonna adopt Stanley!” he beamed, and
practically skipped out the door.

I
looked at Vinnie. Vinnie looked back at me.  We shrugged.  I hoped that Stanley was still unspoken for, and that everything would work out for both of them.  I
supposed things would, so long as Stanley didn’t eat any of Vito’s cooking.

Vinnie
trilled at me and threw himself on his back for a belly rub and purred.  I went
along and gave him his well-deserved scritches.  Another silent-but-deadly poot
wafted up at me while Vinnie lay back looking smug and happy.  I coughed and
got up ‘butt’ quick.

“Pew!
Man, oh man, oh Manischewitz.   No more pepperoni for you!” I said, waving my
arms at him.

Vinnie
trilled something back at me which didn’t sound exactly complimentary.

CHAPTER 12

(Thursday)

I
dozed off
on the
sofa.  Again.  Which meant waking up to
Beevis and Butthead
at about
4:30 a.m. fully clothed, with sandals.  Me, not them.  But apparently I pass
out neatly since my feet were dangling nicely over the sofa arm and asleep.

Meanwhile,
my right arm rested painfully on Vinnie’s belly.  The pinch in it spread down
through my right butt cheek and proceeded to whip up a Charlie Horse.  Ouch.  I
tried to roll my shoulder.  It rolled back at me.  Vinnie lay on his back,
snoring contentedly, his paw hooked across his nose.

“EEEK!
EEEK! EEK!” screamed Marie.

Oh
crap.  She’d been left to watch the ‘The Muppet Movie’ running in repeated
loops all night long.  After her all night movie marathon, she probably thought
‘The Muppet Movie’ was more like ‘Gremlins XXIV’

I
staggered upstairs and found out I was right, of course.

Marie
hissed at me.  “I know, I’m sorry,” I agreed.  I turned the Muppets off. 
“Here, have an early breakfast and a long snooze,” I said, petting her head
then closing her door.

I
looked at my bedroom.  My bed sat waiting, neatly made and inviting.  I
sighed.  No point getting in it; I was up now.

I
shuffled downstairs awkwardly and uncomfortably to make some coffee.  While the
coffee perked, I went into the powder room.  That’s when the front door opened
and I heard Vinnie trill at someone.

“Shhhh,
shhh, Vinnie,” I heard Vito say. “Let Mina sleep.”

I
shook my head, took a deep breath and came out.

“Oh,
hey, I didn’t think you’d be up this early,” Vito whispered. I yawned, shuffled
into the kitchen, and squinted at the clock on the stove.  It blinked 5:00
a.m.  I groaned.  “I gotta whole bunch of deliveries I gotta make this morning,
before I take Helena to the train.  And before I go and adopt Stanley.”

I
shrugged.  “It’s okay, Vito; you don’t have to whisper.  I’m awake.”

“Oh,
hey.  That’s right!” He brightened. “Hey, I’ll just be a minute, okay?” he said
and ambled down my basement steps.

“Help
yourself.”

Vinnie
trilled and trotted after Vito.  I was going to stop him, but remembered his
kitty box was down there.  But there were still a ton of Vito’s prescription
sample boxes down there, too.  Well, at least if Vinnie would let me know where
Vito was if he got pinned under an avalanche of drug samples. And vice versa.

I
started to pour some coffee, and heard what sounded like the kitty box being
scooped out.  I was so tired that at first I thought it was good of Vinnie to
finally learn how to clean up after himself.

Vito
came up with a laundry basket full of medical samples, and a wrapped up bag of
kitty stuff.  He looked at me and blushed.

“Well,
since I was down there and all any-who,” he said.

I
nodded thanks and poured two mugs of coffee.  Vito lumbered out through my
front door, laundry basket and kitty stuff bag in hand.  A lot of single people
say it’s a drag living alone.  I still wonder what it’s like.

Vinnie
came back into the kitchen, rubbed against my shins and licked my knee.  “Yup,
let’s get your breakfast,” I responded automatically.

Then
Vito came back through the front door, holding up a pristine white bakery bag. 
I looked longingly at it.   Vinnie banged his paws on top of the counter,
waving me on, demanding his cookies.

“Noooooooooow!
Nooaw! Now!” Vinnie urged.

“Yes,
you’re getting your breakfast now,” I said, and placed his bowl in front of
him, per his instruction.  Yeeshkabiddle.

Vito
stood in the hallway, holding the bag and shaking his head.  “Boy, Vinnie sure
is one big cat,” he said for the one zillionth time.

“Yup,”
I said back.

Vito
held up the bag.  “Crumb buns!” he announced.

I
was impressed.  Again.

“So
who’s your crumb bun connection?” I asked, getting some plates.

“I
cannot divulge a bakery source. Let us just say someone with New Jersey origins
continues to owe me a pretty big favor,” he said.  I shrugged.

 “So
my plan’s this,” Vito said seriously.  Which was tough since his mouth was
covered with powdered sugar.  “I’ve gotta finish up this month’s…
deliveries.”

“Right,”
I said, biting into more of my crumb bun and gulping more coffee.  But it
didn’t seem strong enough.  I seriously wished stores would label coffee with
ratings:  WAKE UP!; OMG – YOU’RE LATE!!; and READY TO PAINT THE LIVING ROOM
TWICE.  Times like these, the last one wouldn’t go amiss, I thought.

“That
should give folks about a month’s warning to look for their, uh… product
somewheres else,” Vito added with an exaggerated wink.  He looked like he had
something stuck in his eye.

“What
are you going to do with the rest of the stuff in the basement?” I asked.

“Huh?”
Vito said, jiggling crumb bun crumbs from his shirt and onto his plate.

“The
rest of your luggage in my basement?” I asked loudly.

“Oh! 
Like I said, I’m going to finish up this month’s deliveries. I should be
finished in a couple days.”

“You
mean all that stuff in the basement is just two days’ worth of deliveries?”

“Well
sure; you have no idea how many prescriptions doctors write for older persons,”
Vito said, biting into his crumb bun again.

I
rubbed my neck.  Dim visions of Vito, Aunt Muriel and Tina in fluorescent
orange prison jump suits throbbed through my head.  My butt twinged.  I rubbed
it.  Vito looked at me.

“Maybe
yous wanna sit down, or have some alone time or something,” he said and
blushed.  I nodded and sat down on the floor.

Vinnie
came up and sniffed at my crumb bun, then looked up at me. His muzzle was
dusted with a snowy coating of powdered sugar.   I moved to wipe it off but he
hissed at me and stalked away.  Apparently he had a thing for crumb buns, too.

“So
this morning I got it alls worked out to make some urgent deliveries first. 
Then I’ll take Helena to the train station.  I offered to drive her back to Jersey myself, but she wants to talk to my brother first, and kind of work things out
like.  But I’m pretty sure he’s figured out where she’s been and all.”

“How
come?”

“Because
when she called to check on the baby, she said she was staying at Uncle
Vlad’s,” he said.  I smacked my forehead with my hand just like Ma and Aunt
Muriel, forfeiting any claims of individuality from my genetic cesspool.  “Hey,
but this could be nice!” Vito said quickly. “Maybe they’ll come visit. We could
barbeque,” he mused.  I stared straight at him, which he returned with a blank,
sappy gaze.  I rolled my eyes.  Before Vito got descended on by his family at
large, most of which probably was at large, I was going to have to whip up a
batch of chutzpah and ask for my spare key back.  Or pretend there’d been a
drive-by lock changing by an OCD locksmith.

“Then,
after I drop Helena off at the station, I’m gonna adopt Stanley!” Vito went on
brightly.  “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra box of tissues, would
you, Cookie?” he asked.

I
clambered back to my feet and looked around the living room.  The remains of
one of Vito’s Econo-size tissue boxes was perched on the coffee table.  I
grabbed it and put it next to his crumb bun bag.

He
nodded and brushed his remaining crumbs off into the sink.  He took the tissue
box and walked toward the front door, then stopped.  “Don’t worry, Toots.  Even
when I have Stanley, I’ll still make time to Swiffer for you.  After the crowd
you’ve had these days, your floors sure could use it,” he tsked, shaking his
head and leaving.

I
looked into my coffee mug, and toward the liquor cabinet and pictured the
bottle of whiskey I wish I had and knew I didn’t.  Well, it’s the thought that
counts.

I
hopped in the shower, and was just getting out when the doorbell rang.  I
dripped and swore, brushed Vinnie away from trying to climb into the tub with
me, threw on my bathrobe and headed downstairs.  I opened the door to find
Bauser and Norman and Jim.  Jim sat up pretty and leaned.  Bauser propped him
up with his knee.

“Uh,
hi,” I said, opening the door.  “Isn’t this a little early?” It was just after
six o’clock.

Norman
sighed.  “I’ve been up since
three, anyway,” he said, walking in, followed by Bauser and Jim.

“The
horses?” I asked.

“Cat
wrangling,” Norman yawned.  “The horses sleep in until five.  So I figured I
might as well finish painting the side of the barn.  Then I got to some
weeding, watered the vegetable bed, vacuumed and made breakfast for the girls.”

I
shuddered.  No wonder Norman took naps on his towel at lunchtime.  Clearly married
persons with families have lots more chores than I ever imagined.  While I, on
the other hand, remain chore challenged and am becoming increasingly dependent
on Vito’s Swiffer addiction.

“We’ve
got a clue,” Bauser said. He stepped into the kitchen with Jim, and his eyes
immediately fell upon the crumb buns.    I made some more coffee, dug out some
more plates while Bauser, Norman and Jim nosed around inside the bag.

“So
what’s the clue?” I asked.

Before
they could answer, the doorbell rang again.  I rolled my eyes and went to
answer it.  It was Trixie.

“How’re
you doing? You want some coffee?” I asked her, at the same time wondering why
none of my friends used telephones.

Trixie
rolled her eyes.  “I’d rather have a shot and a beer.” She sighed.  “What a
night! You wouldn’t believe.”

I
nodded and agreed, while my right butt cheek winced with another shot of pinch
de jour.

I
looked around at the accumulating breakfast crowd.  Well, at least no one could
accuse me of living in isolation.  Trixie looked around the kitchen, then at
the powdery sugared muzzles of Jim, Bauser and Norman.

“Sorry,”
Norman gulped.  “If we’d known you were coming we wouldn’t have let Jim have
the last crumb bun.”

Trixie
waved him off.  “That’s okay.  I’m not much for sweet stuff, anyway,” she said.

“I
guess not, if you’re up for a bump and a beer for breakfast,” Bauser said.

Trixie
shook her head.  “What a night,” she repeated and sighed.  I felt sorry I
didn’t have any beer for her.

“I
can give you a Mug o’Merlot?  Or a Bloody, I think… well, sort of…” I
trailed, realizing I hadn’t re-stocked tomato juice, or vodka, even with my
mega marathon grocery extravaganza.

Trixie
squinted at me, considering.  “What do you mean, ‘Bloody, sort of’?”

“I
don’t have any tomato juice.  Or vodka.  But I do have some wine, and some
canned spaghetti sauce,” I answered.

Everyone
winced. Including Jim and Vinnie.  “Yuck,” Norman said.

“Just
a minute here,” Bauser piped up, and jogged out the door.  The rest of us
looked at each other and shrugged.

Trixie
had her head inside my fridge, trying to figure out what she wanted me to make
her for her third shift dinner-breakfast, when Bauser strolled back in carrying
a cooler.  He plopped it down on the counter and opened it to reveal two
six-packs of Krumpthf’s.  He broke open a can for Trixie and handed it to her.

“You
might want to use a strainer or a coffee filter first,” Norman advised.

Trixie
looked at the can and winced.   “Krumpthf’s,” she sighed. “It’s come to this.
Krumpthf’s.”

“I
like Krumpthf’s,” Bauser said.

“That’s
because you’re cheap,” Trixie replied, opening the can over the sink and
grabbing a mug and a coffee filter.

“Frugal,”
Bauser corrected.

“What
are you doing with a cooler of Krumpthf’s in your car? Are you guys going
fishing or something?” I asked.

Bauser
looked at me.  “I always travel with my own six-pack,” he said.  “Besides,” he
added, “would you believe there are actually some beer distributors that don’t
carry Krumpthf’s?”

I
winced.

“It’s
actually not so bad, if you mix it with some tomato juice,” Norman offered,
while eyeing the remaining cans in the cooler.  “But you don’t have any tomato
juice at all, right?” he asked me hopefully.

“Just
spaghetti sauce,” I replied.

“Too
bad,” Norman said.

Trixie
finished straining her Krumpthf’s, took a sip and sighed.  She reached for her
purse and brought out a new pack of Swank’s.  “You mind? I can go out back on
the deck,” she asked.

I
looked around at the fellas.  I didn’t know quite what to say, since I was
recently guilty of succumbing to the nicotine nasties myself when I thought I’d
lost Vinnie.  I motioned to Trixie and opened the back door to the deck. 
Trixie nodded and took her purse and we left the fellas inside.