A Valentines Day story

An’ so as I had this looker of a gal I was dating – welp, fer a little bit anyways.

She knew I’m a chef and so she come over to my house an’ say she gonna cook fer me. You know, to impress me real fine with her skills. An’ so she come over the first time and whips up a meal in my kitchen.

But her cooking’s real bad!

Tho, I’m a Chef, so I’m thinkin’ maybe I’m just bein’ too tough. So I make some ‘scuses fer her bad cookin’. And I go outside fer a bit to catch some fresh air and have a lite.

Now my old training chef had a given me his fav’rite Wusthof knife ‘cause I’d earned his respect for being his best apprentice.

An’ that same ole knife had been given to him the same way by his ole training chef.

An’ now I got ‘er an she cuts a fine line an’ never misses a mark. An’ she been mine fer years.

So anyways, I come back a while later into my kitchen an she say to me, “I dunno, what happen’d?

An’ I say, “What happen’d?”

An she say, welp, she just took my ole knife outer the dishwarsher an’ the dang wood handle were busted in two pieces!

Now, I know’d what happened to that fine knife o mine but I says to myself well, she’s a look’r. And so I make ‘scuses an say well, that was an ol’ knife anyways.

And so she come over again another time trying to impress me with her cookin’.

And she cooks a second meal for me, but it still ain’t that good. But I survive the meal, keep a smile on and while she cleanin’ up in the kitchen, I say I’m goin out fer some fresh air.

I come back a while later.

And she say, “I dunno, what happ’n?”

An’ I say, “What happn’d!”

An she say my ole butcher block wood cuttin’ board just split up iner 3 pieces after she tooker outter the dishwarsher!

“The dishwarsher?,” says I

“The dishwarsher!” says she, still scratchin’ her head why a butcher block cutting board would split to pieces after bein’ in an ole dishwarsher.

Well, I know’d what happen’d. But I make more ‘scuses for her. An’ I say, since its gonna be Valentines Day when yer come over next time, why don’t yer let me cook fer you? She say yes.

An so she come over next time.

But I was runnin’ late from work. So after she come over, I gotta run out and get some fine pork fer dinner.

So I say, “I’m goin to butcher to get some pork.”

And she say OK. And then she say, real nice to me – “Since yer cookin, why don’t I set the table?”

An since she way from the dishwarsher, I donut worry. So, I say OK.

Anyhow I come back in a while later with the pork.

She say, “I dunno, what happen’d?”

An’ I say, “What happen’d!”

She say all my fine Clarice Cliff eatin’ finery jus grew legs an’ up’n jump’d outter the cabinet an broke up. All ‘cept one lonely plate!

An’ now I’m loosin my mind, because in three dates she assassinated all my eatin’ finery, my cutting board an’ my ole trainin knife – things that I’ve had in my life for a fine while.

So, I think fast an say, “We only got one plate left! So yer gotta go an’ get takeout Chinese since we only got one place left.”

An I convince her she gotta run out to the Chinese.

In a hurry I locked the double lock the door behind her.

Because I knowed if I’d let her back in, she woulda bust up my best cast iron skillet next – an’ ain’t no gal worth that.

An anyhow, that’s how I got left with 1 dinnerplate and 3lb of pork.

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