Wimbledon, Kentucky by H. Claire Taylor

Author:H. Claire Taylor
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Humor
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

AS LAUREL HANDED OUT THE salads, she skipped over herself and Bill, playing the martyr and knowing Bill would rather not waste precious stomach space with what he called “rabbit food.”

Picky eaters be damned, she decided as she handed out the salads with everything on them. However, while Laurel had her talents, cooking had never been one of them, so it wasn’t just the picky eaters who half-heartedly attempted to veil their looks of disgust as they picked at their salads. Even Frank Leinenkugel found himself knocking a few odd-looking bacon chunks to the side, wondering if Laurel knew what bacon was, or that maybe she had meant to say “charred mucus” instead of “bacon.”

As a distraction from the cuisine, Frank struck up conversation, obliterating the silence with his booming voice.

“So, Malcolm,” he began, “you’re a Jew, so I guess that means you keep up with the ongoing tensions in the Middle East.”

Malcolm choked down a bite of the salad, trying to avoid thinking about what the slimy thing that slid down his throat could actually be, and nodded. “Yeah, I follow it as much as the next Jew.” He chugged some water to help everything go down smoother. He was still slightly terrified of talking to the mechanic, but anything, anything, to distract from the salad.

“So you keep up quite a bit, then,” said Frank.

“Exactly.”

“So how’s it going to end?”

Malcolm paused and eyed Frank, trying to figure out what exactly he meant by that. He was cautious in his response, growing tired of Frank’s genius resulting in his own embarrassment. “End?”

Frank roared with laughter. “My sentiments exactly, kid.”

Malcolm could feel the eyes of the other guests flickering back and forth between him and Frank, so he laughed along, trying to act like he was in on the joke.

“You’re definitely onto something,” Bret Hammersmith chimed in. “There doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. There may never be.”

“Not as long as both religions exist,” Jack Knowles added.

“It just goes too far back, historically speaking,” Melanie said.

Laurel interjected. “Then what are we supposed to do? Be okay with everyone killing each other?”

Gavin shook his head fiercely. “Oh, no! God would frown upon such an attitude. But, you know, the first thing they taught us in rehab was the serenity prayer, and it’s just like that. ‘Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.’ We can try to change it if we want, but we also have to accept that we may never be able to.”

“Well spoken! Well spoken, indeed,” Dr. Leinenkugel said, smiling kindly at Gavin.

Bill gulped down some water then clanged his glass down on the table, being as noisy about it as he could. He thought it was a nice, emphatic gesture for what he was about to say. His father used to do it almost every dinner while Bill was growing up, and he only hoped he could manage the same red-in-the-face look of suppressed rage that his old man used to muster up.

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